➵ SOULS & ECHOES

[shootyourshot]

The fall of snow is so gentle despite how dangerously cold it is outside. It isn't quite a blizzard, but it is like a blanket of white falling down, muffling the sound and beautifully quiet. There shouldn't be anything out here new or unusual, as there has not been for ages.

Yet, on this evening, there is a light in the distance that Sylvain will see. A dim lantern, hanging in the middle of the snow, like it'd always been there. It is more than staked into the earth, as if somehow it'd grown out like a plant and made its life there.

Half-buried in the snow is the lithe form of a man with pale hair. A ragged hood is covering his head, his arms and legs armored -- yet the rest of him is wearing clothing that was once, perhaps, elegant yet has been worn away. By use or age, it's difficult to say.

Clutched in one hand is a wickedly curved blade, and in the other a pistol. Not that Sylvain would have seen one before.