It wasn’t kept waiting, the snow continuing to gently accumulate in the short minutes that the Clovenheart took to arrive. It did not move nor did it blink, this manifestation of snow, but its gaze softened still at Ashamin’s approach, at his words. Before it could nod to affirm that yes, it had called him, he dismissed his own question. If something else had called, it seemed, it no longer mattered to the Clovenheart. His statement, his compliment, was what it finally responded to - agreeing wholeheartedly. “Yes, we are.”
That ethereal voice echoed around the winter scene, coming from all of the snowflakes that were falling and that had gathered. But despite their number, it was gentle. A whisper as all other outside noise was muffled by the Frostfall moment, there was no need to speak any louder.
For these short moments, everything outside of the Blood Falls - outside of this very small corner of this land - did not exist. They were isolated, these four creatures, from everything else but each other.
The temperature inside their bubble is cold but not frigid - without his adornments Ashamin and his companions should remain relatively comfortable. But, then, what did the creature know - it never existed in Tallsun except by magic, never got to feel the heat of the blazing sun and so it did not know how the vast difference between the rest of the world and this fragile moment was. At least, for now, none of their bodies were going into shock.
“We’re glad you came, Ashamin.”
Finally, the creature confirms that this was the source of the voice that called to him. Those burning black eyes focus on him, gaze never shifting and never failing.
“Do you miss the north? Do you miss the Basin?”
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
