#;winter wraith

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((Muse alignment chart from a meme on discord! There's quite a few on the blog and some are side muses or on other blogs ^^ these guys are all interactible though!))

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How strange, this small dragon, alike yet so unlike the Goddess he'd grown to befriend. The air around him is frigid, as if his presence alone calls the snow. He leans, crimson tipped claws reaching out to inspect. "Tell me, дракончикa, where do you come from?" -- @everlastiingiimmortals  answered: Cold. That's the first word that enters Yingyue's mind. In the span of a single breath, it seems that time slows, condenses to the instance of a single breath, the world growing dark around her. White flecks dance before her eyes; is it the stars she's familiar with, or snow? Clouds leave her lungs in little billows, leaving her shivering involuntarily. For a moment, she is sure something is wrong. The Luofu never goes dark -- what happened to the artificial sky? The Luofu never grows cold. This coldness is unfamiliar and frightening, vague hints of memories too blurry and too ephemeral drifting around the corners of her mind, whispers of a chilling grief that escape swiftly from her grasp. Then she turns and her breath catches in her throat. A being -- taller than her, much much taller than even the general -- looms out from the darkness, seemingly materializing from the sudden eddies around her. The rattling of crystals with every step they take reverberates in her heart, and seeing the tall antlers sprout from their head sends a spike of apprehension through her heart. The Plagues Author? But no; the Abundance is an entity of sunshine and wheat, warmth and sweet smelling blooms, not darkness and snow, cold and frost. The more she watches, the more the entity's form grows clear. They are magnificent. Their hunched torso becomes digitigrade legs covered in sleek, white fur that end in cloven hooves. A mane of white hair, ending in tips of crimson like a splash of blood against snow, frame a sharp (but not unkind, she thinks) face with long, pointed ears like hers and red, red eyes. It is not the red of mara. Yingyue remains rooted to the spot, heart beating in her chest like the fluttering wings of a tiny bird. And then they -- he -- reaches crimson claws out to her, and speaks. The sound of his voice both rumbles from his throat and within her own head, a gasp escaping from her mouth. There is no questioning the presence of the God before her. She doesn't understand the word he uses to address her, but it is gentle. She hesitates, looking between his expectant claws and his face before cautiously accepting his hand. "F-from her--" she cuts herself off with a shy clearing of her throat, looking at their surroundings once more. The familiar scenery of the Luofu is no longer in sight. No — it was clear from the moment the God's chill rolled in that she was no longer home. Strangely, the thought doesn't terrify her as much as she thought it would. "T-this humble servant is a Scion of Long, Exalted One," she offers softly, eyes lowered respectfully. "O-only one of many... hailing from the Xianzhou Luofu, a s-space-faring ship that roams the galaxies."

It is as she cautiously places a tiny hand within his own, that the Winter realizes it. She... truly is small. Fragile in the way the Goddess he'd befriended was not, so easily breakable in the claws of one such as himself.

She is Mortal. In the barest of sense, she may not age and she may live for an extended period of time, but she was still within the reaches of Death.

Time is frozen here. This cold, this ice, it is his domain. The frost fogs at the feet, gathers in waves and clouds. Snowflakes fall silently, gathering in clumps on the ground. It is dark, the edge of midnight, the dangers of the night at its darkest point.

Her shoulders shudder here, at the edge of his domain. It is cold-- just like the tips of his fingers that she now held onto-- she would not last, just like any other living creature. Why is she here? Perhaps the strings that connected them, perhaps she'd discovered something that did not belong to her-- but it is unmistakable who she resembles.

Scion of... Crimson eyes look past to the border of his domain, to where she once came from. It was only an after image, the tempting of the creatures he'd kept from overrunning his Domain, but the deity can sense the Stars herself-- the realm of Death and the Silver one. And the Void. It blends with the souls lost here. Perhaps that was how...

"You will come with me." Rare that Morozko allowed anyone but his Court and his Bride to walk in tandem with himself, but this was a special case. She will freeze until He takes her. It would be wrong to allow any version of his dear friend to be taken so early. She is not meant to be here.

His touch is light but guiding nonetheless, fully aware of the ice that would seep into her skin if he did any more. "Scion of Long, do your best to ignore the beckons of those in the dark." The temptations of memories just out of reach and promises of warmth and familiar faces. "They are not your loved ones." Hands beckoning and opened doors to home.

"If you wish to return to where you came from, do not let go."

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Volt, he’s looking directly at you. Have you noticed, yet?

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When the firsts winds of winter blew, the lake deity left her home, basket in hand. She wandered until frozen mountains loomed in the distance, until the signs of snowfall appeared in the sky. At the edge of a forest, the fallen leaves underfoot already laced with a thin layer of frost, stood a smooth slab of stone; as she would have it, a perfect shrine.

The flat surface was swept off and cleaned; the dragon knelt before the slab and pulled out two candles, then a small platter of orange slices. Three sticks of incense, lit with one of the candles, were placed into a small holder at the far end of the slab. Finally, the deity pulled out a small, intricately woven bracelet of red string, with crystals carefully tied so they dangled from the body of the ornament, and laid it before the orange slices.

After a moment of silence, she spoke: "Is it strange to you, I wonder, to receive an offering from another god?" The question was followed by a soft chuckle, and the goddess raised her arms slightly, palms turned towards the sky. "I welcome your season, my friend. I welcome your presence to these lands. I welcome the rest you bring to the earth.

"I welcome you."

If my Muse was a Deity, what Offerings Would you Leave at Their Shrine?

You are heard, o' lady of the water.

Claws of crimson pad over the forest floor, frost curling over leaves and trees alike like lace of glass. He is not in the form reflective of man, but of those that roam his lands, not one nor the other but a third thing.

The red tip of his tail seems to fade with the evening fog, perhaps creating it. It is time once again, for our paths to cross. Even in this form he towers, emerging from the endless sea of red and brown, his coat pure among them.

From just at the horizon, he dips his head in acknowledgement, nostrils inhaling the incense drifting on the wind. The chime of glass clattering on ice, of icicles colliding, resounds from the crystals hanging from his antlers.

You are heard.

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😵😍 gimme that Mor n Raz CONTENT

Send 😵 for a random headcanon between our muses.

Raz... may be the only individual alive (or whatever he counts as) who does not experience the ominous feeling of dread that all things experience when they are within the same space as Mor. Some are capable of overcoming such anxiety, but many are not and are forced to flee.

But the Vega... no. Raz doesn’t feel that same fear. It’s because he... was always meant to be by the Winter’s side. His Soul-Bound partner.

Send 😍 for a shippy headcanon between our muses.

Mor... actually wishes that he was capable of letting Raz properly see spring. Sure, the android is more than capable of leaving the realm of ice to go find other seasons, but Raziel frequently chooses to stay with his partner. As that is the case...

He actually does his best to recreate flowers from his own memories for Raz. They’re always made of ice, cold, and never age, but he lives for the delight on his soul mate’s face whenever he manages to recreate one that’s never been seen before.

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It seems... the mortals are at it again.

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A nod to the other God, the glowing gems on his antlers jingling softly.

-

The nod is answered with a courteous bow, Yingyue's tail swishing behind her.

"Greetings. To what do I owe the pleasure, Winter God?"

It was rare for her to see his kind, though with the snows fast approaching, she wasn't all too surprised.

“Здравствуйте.” 

Politeness aside, it is always a pleasure to encounter another of his kind. In this day and age, they were considered a rarity, after all. The deity’s lips curl up into a pleasant smile, red eyes casting down upon the Goddess.

“The months are getting colder here, and thus I can travel. It is good to see you’re still around.”

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We should probably nudge Volt away from that part of the multiverse right now. It’s rather clear he is not in the right space to be speaking with KiZ’met directly right now.