Threads 413-Taming Winter 2
Winter comes as the frost maiden's train. The clouds are the billow of silk in her stride. The snow falls upon the land and leaves the glittering beauty of white.
The maiden's voice rises, the soft song which tugs at and shakes loose the last crinkling leaves, beauty ephemeral passing as it may only once in each turning.
On comes the winter. On comes the snow. See its glitter, look in awe upon the hills laid to rest 'neath the blanket of white.
See the mortals, telling their tales round the fires, the nurturing blessing of belief, winding to the skies. Feel the smoke that rises and crackles with the meat of sacrifice. This is the maiden's offering, that all her attendants might partake of.
Faeries shrieked and called out to one another over Hanyi's voice as she built herself up.
The mantle of spiritual power Ling Qi had drawn about herself was spooled into the figure Hanyi was making of herself in the whirling column of snow ahead. Her stage was the hilltop, slick now with ice. She was tall now, taller than Ling Qi, with a white gown as elegant as her mother’s and whipping white braids dissolving into the snow and wind at the tips of her hair. In her hands were fans of transparent ice etched with patterns in blue and black, fluttering before her face and accentuating her dance as she sang.
Hanyi was going to be a dangerous spirit when she grew older.
The shrieking laughter was lesser now. The faeries of the snowstorm were flickering and ephemeral, mostly first realm but some on the verge or peaking into the second. They bobbed and tittered, entranced and hungry. They were small vessels, but they were cold, and the cold was never far from the darkness and hunger. Such a meal as Hanyi sang of was no small offer.
A shard of ice cut through the air and shattered against one of Hanyi's fans. It was the first of many, pelting the hill. Each one carried mockery and derision.