Twisted Strands [[Soul +&+ Alvis Alendran]]

[ShatteredSoul]

The air was cold, threatening snow, biting viciously at anyone and everyone that dared endure the outdoors. It was getting dark, but there was just enough sunlight left to keep the horizon aglow, and that didn't help the temperature in the air in slightest.

The breeze blew past gently, but in just such a way that it was icy cold, chilling straight through to the bones. It caused goosebumps to rise up along every inch of covered skin on a young, pale skinned blonde woman. Pale, yet piercing, blue eyes stared uncertainly at the closed door before her, and she was shivering hard; partly from the cold, and partly out of anxiousness. White-blonde hair, streaked with black highlights, curtained her face, shielding her eyes a little bit, which she was thankful for, as it most likely helped to hide just enough of the shaking fear on her face. She was clad in a pair of jeans, worn skeakers, and a jacket thick enough to rival any eskimo, the hood drawn up to better hide her face and block out the cold. It wasn't late enough in the season to snow yet, but it was just about cold enough.

Shakily, from cold and nervousness, the girl lifted a dainty hand, knocking softly on the front door of the quaint little house she stood before, and then she took a step back and held her breath, waiting. He was in there, and that she was certain of, but it wasn't a question of whether or not he was home that had her so shaken. She'd been seeking him out for the better half the last month, following blindly and on little more than a picture in her mind to seek him out, level him up, and do everything in her power to keep him around just a little while longer.

 

[Alvis Alendran]

Bitter. That was the word to describe the weather. Bitter adn cruel. That short jaunt from his car to the house had ended up with him shivering through his coat. It was the thrice damned wind that did it. Still, home was nicely insulated, and there were still embers in the hearth. A few moments of work kindled them back into life, a little fire going, but building up to one that would finish driving the chill out of the room. And house. Many told him he was out of his mind for heating with a wood stove. To those he just smiled. Call him a traditionalist, but wood smoke made a house feel like home. There was an honest scent to it, one that always put him at ease. And the actual splitting of the wood always helped center him. It was honest work, and he called himself an honest man. Honesty was a big deal for him. It was one of the things that defined his personality.

He was settlign onto the couch, a beer on the side table, and his feet on the coffee table. He let out a long sigh. It was good to be home. The tension of his day was starting to bleed out of him. Not a great day, actually kind of a miserable one. But home fixed so many ills. Then came the knock on his door. He frowned, sighed, and then stood up. He crossed to the door, and looked out. He saw...a coat. And it had a person in it, but not much could be determined beyond that. There was a surge of distrust, one that wanted to reach for the wood axe adn drive the person away. But there was a far greater part of him that noted the person out there was smaller in staure than him, and looked cold. He sighed, and opened the door, the chill air of the night rushing in around him. He shivered a moment, realizing that she must be getting the exact opposite treatment, the warmth of his house rushing out to greet her like and old friend.
"Hello? Cna I help you?" He asked the person curiously.