The snow lies there, motionless and emotionless;; betrayal by defeat. As the cold, snow-drop berries fall from their mothers and father unto thee, the snow, they leave an impacting impression upon the land. It has been scarred by little dewdrops, slowly, softly, over the longest time. And the icicles do not more but to crease the land with daintless smiles...taintless smiles, neither sad, nor innocent...just smiles...

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A silvern fae stands in the snow, her coat tattered and beaten by the first winter's dawn. Home alone, all her comrades were together elsewhere, huddled for warmth. Taint... she mumbled, Taint...why'd you have to go...?

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A bird sings in the treetops, Trr-tu-twee, trr-tu-twee. The echo of her piercing voice makes her tremble. The trembling makes her hurt a little more. A little more. Each time, a little more. Shit... her voice is bitter and cold like the dusty, dusken snow of the land she greets. But no one seems to care of that swear, no...no one is around to care...

Taint lies motionless, covered in a thin layer of the gentlest frostbite. It dusts over her like the breath of an all-loving angel, and soothes her to rest.

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Where do I go now? Vein asked himself this. Here he was, with Nurra cold at his shoulder, hovering around him for warmth. And everything around him seemed to be collapsing down. He didn't know what to do anymore...with his sisters and brethren all around and all apart at once, he wondered what it would be like to be home. To be home with his brethren, the vampires.

He just wondered. That was all that there was to do...