Random Event: Spinning ice discs are forming within bodies of water throughout the Lore.
Sven hated the Winter. His feelings on it all, the snow and the ice and wet and the cold, had not changed from his first a year ago. Neither had the amount of things on his mind. The problems had shifted and morphed, some new had arised, but all of it still burned the same just behind his ribs. Perhaps the season was doing well, though. At least he could attempt to funnel all of the upset onto hating the wind and the powder and the gray skies.
Instead of thinking about how much Attica was talking about Torbine and how she'd like to go there.
Of how long it had been since he had visited the East, because Sahalie was no longer there, gone without so much as a whisper.
Of how his mother, alive and well and within the Lore, still made the choice to be a faint ghost.
None of it existed, if he fought with himself hard enough, if he squinted his eyes just so and glared down the white banks of the partially frozen waters. He'd come to visit his sanctuary, but had stopped here instead. Discs of ice, perfectly rounded, spun lazily at the water's edge. An annoyed huff of breath put a cloud into the air, before the young man stepped forward, testing with one foot and then the other the buoyancy of the discs.
Distraction, distraction, distraction. He was so burnt out on trying to fix, on fighting the world and the hands that kept being dealt to him. He was as off-white as the snow. Maybe he could disappear in it. Just for a little bit.