Swirling around the palace, snowflakes pelt the walls. Not even the inside of the palace is safe, for frost slowly creeps up the walls. One can see their own breath at any given point in time, inside or outside. Ever since Signoras death, the atmosphere in Snezhnaya as a whole has been somber. Her funeral took place only days ago and yet... It feels like the day of: Sad, Melancholy. Though nonetheless, another must take her place.