Snow was, and likely always would be, a great source of comfort for Einheria.

It calls to mind memories of her dearly beloved father-- the gentle coldness of his skin and scales, the snow that would cling to the silvery-white strands of his hair when he would re-enter their home after his adventures, the chill that would wrap around them both and lead him to light a fire in their library so he could tell her another story by the crackling flame as she nibbled at cookies or whatever delicately-wrapped dessert he'd brought her from the world outside. Perhaps she's never really gotten to see much of it in person, but it counts...! The memories still count, to some degree...! Besides, she's always loved his fairy tales of snow princesses and frozen warriors and other such spectacular things!

All in all, it's a comforting memory-- so she's delighted to wander around in such heavy snow, in the midst of a field of rich ice, cold winds nipping at her pointed ears and burrowing beneath the thick fabric of her winter clothing. It may be a bit brisk and uncomfortable, but it's a delightful kind of uncomfortable! She's never experienced this in person before! It's so new and joyful she practically wants to skip through it, and she would if not for the knowledge that she'd slip!

Chilled puffs of breath billow from her lips as she continues wandering-- it's a little bit more of a brutal journey than Einheria had anticipated, but such is the way. All of those adventurers she'd asked about a job from had insisted that a girl like her needed to be more hardened, after all, and what better way than to test herself like this? And so, she wanders, ever wandering, pulling her woolen shawl a little tighter around herself as the snow grows ever harsher--

...only to pause, briefly, as she sees shadows in the distance.

It's a cluster of silhouettes-- wagons, seemingly, a few bulky creatures, and the unmistakable shadows of humanoids, all partially veiled in the fine mist of powdery snow. For what looks to be a cluster of traveling merchants, she... isn't quite sure why they're stopped like this. Perhaps they're in need of help?

Einheria quickens her pace, raising an arm to seize their attention, before she stops.

She... should consider her approach a little more carefully, truly. She doesn't want to come across as a threat, after all-- a mysterious, lone traveler, walking along unburdened in the icy tundra? That must seem a bit suspicious to a cluster of merchants... She should probably be cautious. Hold back and wait, observe from a distance for now... just observe. Politely.

Silva had been traveling with these merchants for a while since they were headed north and well... wouldn't it be nice to be in the cold again? He did especially miss it after staying in the warmer areas for too long. He sometimes wondered where he had left his home... but checking for it every few decades or so always turned him up empty handed... the entrance must have changed too much since he had left and if no one was still there to live in it who was to say any of his old things were there? Anyone would look for a dragon's lair as a good place to loot. No use dwelling on it. Either one day he would find it or... at the very least make a new home when he found a reason to stay somewhere.

The best part about traveling with merchant's though is sometimes they had their families, and children always loved a good story. So while he was knelt in the snow using magic to mend the fourth cart wheel of the day since the snow hit he was telling the two children huddled together in their thick furs another one. 

"And then... out of no where a large sea creature broke the water and sprayed us all. The little boat we were floating on was pushed out of the way of it's wave." He smoothed a glowing hand over another spoke as he held it together, his breath mingling with the puffs from the children as they knelt in the cover of the wagon, "And another one showed up behind us pushing us the other way until we were in a circle of them surrounded!" 

The other merchants started to get agitated at the growing wind and snow. Something about being worried about the wind picking up and getting stuck. When Silva pushed his head out of the warm hood he had on to hear them more clearly it was then he noticed the snow falling more sideways than before. 

"Ah children I am afraid you will have to listen to the rest of my story later.... go ahead and get inside." He shoed them away and straightened up to look about and saw a figure in the distance. Hmm well... better for him to greet a newcomer in the storm. Since he would know his way back. So he trudged through the fresh snow whirling about  and waved at the stranger.

Even for one who'd never seen a blizzard in person before, even Einheria couldn't help noting that the snow out here felt particularly... heavy.

The pleasant nip of the wind quickly turns into harsh biting the longer she stands on the outskirts of that merchant camp, its brutal teeth starting to linger against any patch of exposed skin she has left and dying her frost-pale skin red, the harshness of the air pulling at any loose strands her thick braid will yield. As lovely as it had felt at first, even she, with all the ease she can traverse the cold with, can't help but feel as though the frigidity has grown to be a bit much in all of her hesitance. Oh, she's really being foolish, but she really doesn't want to cause a fuss and startle anyone...!

She paces back and forth a few times, trying to preserve a bit of warmth with the friction of movement, however brief and redundant, but she pauses as soon as she sees a figure rise amidst the camp, a shadow growing sharper, clearer, more defined as it walks... her way.

Oh.

Oh, no.

Or... oh, yes? She can't tell...

Einheria quickly stands still, straightening her posture like a rod and biting her lip before sinking into her usual curtsy, only lifting her head to drink in the sight of the approaching stranger, quietly gasping at just how strangely familiar he looks: silvery hair, a warm expression, kind eyes... There's a comforting look to him, to be sure, and it's enough to ease the building tension at the nape of her neck.

"S-Salutations, Sir," she says anyway, not wishing to be rude. "I apologize if I have startled you or your companions-- my name is Einheria Vaetki, and I-I... I promise my intentions are not ill."

Silva pulled down his hood when he got closer to show he wasn’t a threat, the wind nipped at his ears in a way that made him wince. It had been a while since he had felt cold like this, it made his flesh brighten pinker than before too.

The curtsy surprised him. His hands went up to motion that she didn’t have too. Giving him time to register the shining hair that matched the snow around them and the earnest look on her face. She looked so familiar that she had to be a friend of his right? Another someone he forgot to check on or reconnect with…

“No worry needed Einheria. I only wished to invite you to join us before the snow got too deep… traveling along in a blizzard like this is dangerous.” He studied her hoping he could remember where they had met. “And… I am Silva D’Argentine… apologies if we may have met before because you do seem familiar but… I unfortunately have a bit of an issue remembering my friends.”

He reached a gloved hand out to her.

“Perhaps your assistance could be traded for traveling with us. Do you know what direction you came from and what was that way? I have fixed about four broken wagon wheels in the last hour and I fear we might just end up stuck in the open with all of these human merchants.”

He blinked. There he went again… speaking in a silly way. To be honest he couldn’t quite remember what he used to look like before and he has lived much too long for a human… maybe just an elf with round ears perhaps? Though that didn’t quite explain other things that he experienced.

It doesn't take very long for Einheria to decide on what, precisely, makes this stranger feel so familiar to her.

The softness of his voice is a lullaby of its own, despite no songlike rhythm carrying the words, wise with an adventurer's travel and gentle with appreciation for what the world has to offer. His face, though younger, bears all the familiar features of her own father's, comforting and sweet, and it's enough to soothe her nerves.

"It is lovely to make your acquaintance, Sir D'Argentine," she says earnestly, offering a nervous smile, frayed at the edges with the delicate remnants of her unease over the situation they both seem to be entangled in. Still, Silva's comment about her supposed familiarity brings her some pause-- it is strange to know the feeling is mutual, despite the fact that there is likely no way they could ever have met before, at least not within her memory. Perhaps when she was a child, in those fuzzy years she struggles to remember, but those centuries are long-passed. "I-I... If you believe we have met before, then I may owe you equal apology. I have not ventured out much in my life, as far as I can remember."

As soon as Silva offers a hand to her, she hesitates, listening to the words he has to say before accepting-- she... supposes such a thing sounds like a fair trade! It is doable, very much so-- although she tilts her head a bit at his choice in phrasing before slipping her hand in his.

"O-Of course, Sir D'Argentine," she nods meekly. "I came from the Pale City-- I would be happy to do what I can to help, if you believe I may be of some merit to you and your companions. Where do you need me...?"

"Oh no need for the Sir part." He grinned, "Makes me sound too important, Silva is completely fine. And I have been many places but only for a seemingly short amount of time... so no worries at all if we have then." A intrigued tilt of his head that she didn't remember him either made him curious, but a gust of wind practically pulled some of his hair out of its tucked away spot and cause him to have to right it with his free hand. His other hand clasping around hers was warmer from his recent spell casting.


"Ah well..." He looked back at the caravan with different eyes to survey what needed done. The main two humans in charge were arguing with each other and pointing a few different directions. The children he had been speaking too weren't even peaking out of their wagon to watch. Snow had started gathering around some of the wagons as other adults moved around to clear it and yelled that they needed to keep moving. "Shelter for everyone... if we can find it. Otherwise we need a way to keep moving before they freeze. We hit a rough patch earlier in the day and broke a few wheels... Charmin expects we lost the road a while ago despite my compass." 

Silva pulled up his sleeve to show her the tattoo that pointed north and moved as he did to keep true.

"Do you have any skills that might help them keep warm or keep us steady?" He smiled at his new friend. "And.. I might as well introduce you to the Caravan. Especially if you can help. Don't worry, I'm known to be a little eccentric and have many friends... So perhaps they will just accept your help instead of be concerned where you came from." He gave her a small wink.

Oh, Goddess, not again.

A look of brief panic flashes across Einheria's face at Silva's gentle insistence that titles are not necessary, that his first name alone is just fine; goodness gracious, how out of touch has she fallen? How archaic must the words that leave her lips sound to all of the strangers she encounters? Oh, she had believed herself to be adhering steadily to propriety, but has she instead been rude this whole time by clinging to such old and fanciful titles and addresses? It is moments like these when her storybooks offer little aid, the purple prose that flowers across the aged pages sounding so strange off of her tongue to the inhabitants of the strange, contemporary world she has been tossed into.

Still, however frantic it makes her, Silva's eyes are kind as ever, his voice soft and sweet and full of that gentle assurance that all is fine, all is well, and so Einheria forces herself to take a deep breath, however the cold stings her lungs.

"...Y-Yes, of course, S...Silva," she squeaks, testing the words. She rocks uneasily on her feet for a moment, pulling at the fur of her cloak and biting at her lower lip like it will offer her any comfort. "I-I... I regret to say that I lack any magic that may be pertinent, though I am eager to perform any labor that may help. A-And I have materials that may provide warmth to some members of this caravan...!"

Einheria glances up, taking a few steps forward in the snow, trying to get a better look at the caravan ahead.

"...the cold... bothers me very little. I would be happy to offer my cloak or my furs to those who need it more, and... do what I can to help guide them back to the Pale City."

He grinned fully at the use of his name. The one he had worn for the longest... the others lost to time.



"Ah well... you have recently traversed to where we are headed so useful all the same!" He led her towards the caravan leaders. "We will see if it comes down to that... hopefully not!"



He stood in front of the arguing human's until they noticed him. The woman in charge, Charmin, huffed at him.



"What now D'argentine? Whose this?" She held up her hand to the others to silence them.



"Ah this is my friend Einheria, she is caught in the storm just as we are... but she recently came from the Pale City... so I have a heading for us at least. We very much did lose the road as you expected." He tapped his bare skin with his true north tattoo on the wrist. "We will have to head southeast for a while to make up for it I think... which means more time... can we keep warm enough?"



"Maybe... if we rotate who is outside of the wagons and have a fire mage in each one..." Charmin pinched her nose and cursed under her breath and then pointed at Einheria. "You can't do fire can you?"

A very uneasy chuckle spills from Einheria's lips as the caravan leader looks her way, eyes roving over her in silent surveillance, appraising the magic that flows through her veins and quickly seeming to conclude that not a spark of flame can burst from her fingertips. It is... obvious, really; she is frost given form, a snowflake spun into skin and bone and iridescent scales, pale lavenders and blues and shining white bundled into a cold little silhouette of a person. She is a frost dragon and an ice mage, and it shows in every fiber of her deceptively delicate being.

"A-Ah," she stammers, wilting beneath Charmin's sharp gaze. "My apologies, good lady, but I... I lack any such kinds of magic. I... am a frost mage, in fact."

Oh, hardly a flicker of surprise passes over the woman's face, a murmur of displeasure washing over the clusters of people behind her, and for a moment, Einheria shrinks back, regret thrumming through her in a steady wave. Ohhh, she knew this was a bad idea-- what on earth could she possibly do here? She's about as useful here as applying ice to frostbite would be! These people need warmth and guidance, and all she beckons forth is a whirlwind of cold!

She lets out a tiny sigh.

"...I apologize once more," she says quietly, her resolve teetering, threatening to break. "But I... I wish to help. This blizzard... I have some degree of ability to maneuver through it well. I would be amenable to helping to guide the caravan through the storm. I likely would not need to cycle out or take shelter the same way a human might...! I promise...!"

It sounds like begging, a desperate attempt to be considered, to be wanted, but Einheria hardly cares.

“Ah perfect Idea! Einheria and I lead the way. I can try to drive the front cart through the snow as well and give the rest a trail to follow!” He clapped his gloved hands together in excitement, “That way we should make good time and at least have a heading. And give all your men a good minute to rest and get warm.”



The murmur amongst the humans standing there led to a gruff acceptance by Charmin. They rustled about to gather things up and finish digging out the cart that had tilted into a deeper patch of snow and not hard ground.



“Alright then Einheria!” He climbed up into the front carriage's seat and took the reins from the man handing them over. “If you let me know of any holes or such I do have something I can do to stop the front carriage at least from falling in again…. I am just a little scatterbrained to ever see them before we fall in.”



Silva took a few tries to get the furry animal in front of them to get going again, heaving the cart forward as the bundled up people behind them also snapped their reins to get them pushing forward. The wind buffeted the sides of the carts and they had to stop to right one after an hour of pushing through the increasing snow and wind. Silva had to stop and wipe building snow off of himself to get to his tattoo and check their heading again.



“Ah! We might need to turn slightly to the south for a little I think! Do you see anything ahead Einheria?” He called out to her in the snow, the only thing he could see was the back of her clothes and the occasional whip of her hair as she led the way. “And if you want a break we can switch places!”

A quiet sigh of relief escapes Einheria at the way Silva quickly rises to her rescue, delight at her suggestion painted across his face, his soft voice lifting with excitement as though she's said or done something at all spectacular-- she hasn't, of course, has merely offered a desperate bit of help in the hopes of being useful to this caravan of fragile humans, but one might be forgiven for thinking otherwise with the way Silva reacts. His endorsement seems to convince the people, though, their skepticism carefully cleft through, and as they move to get things going, she is quick to offer what aid she can.

She summons her glaive, however briefly, in its typical burst of sparkles and snowfall, all too eager to use the blade to help dig away at the snow clinging to wagon wheels-- it is an odd use of it, to be sure, but all that matters is that it is helpful. She gets one or two odd glances from Charmin and the other humans at her careless use of her weapon, but she tries not to pay it too much mind, channeling all of her focus into clearing the snow away until the wheels are devoid of frost.

As soon as Silva takes his position at the wagon's front, reins in hand, Einheria is quick to follow along, moving to take her place as the caravan's front, all too happy to lead the way. She shifts impatiently as the merchants settle into place, clambering back into what little warmth their wagons provide.

"Of course," she chirps, her glaive glistening beneath sparse fragments of light that peer through the heavy clouds as she lifts it up, a sharp beacon in the snow. "I will warn of any potential dangers. Let us go, then."

And so she does-- the pattern is simple, her stride quick but calculated as she navigates the tundra, sharp gaze fixed on the frozen ground. For the most part, travel is smooth, unburdened; she stops every now and then to warn of a shift in the path, to warn of holes and the gaping jaws of ravines that split along the edges of the snow-bound earth, but beyond the whip of merciless wind and snow, it is smooth and simple, easy to traverse-- but she knows it will not stay that way forever.

The blizzard shows no sign of relenting.

"...oh, I am quite alright!" Einheria calls as soon as she processes Silva's words, perking up just so. "Ah, the blizzard seems to be getting a bit worse, however; I believe I see a mountain overhang not far off in the distance. It may not be a bad place to take temporary shelter!"