The frigid winds of Nod-Krai stir up a layer of powder snow resting upon the ground, the snowflakes rising into the air before fluttering down, resting upon the tops of nearby graves. The silvery light of the moon barely peeks out from behind darkening clouds, an indication of an oncoming snowstorm.

"Hm..." Flins' pale-yellow gaze roves over the nighttime scenery... until it falls upon barely-concealed footsteps in the snow. "You... shouldn't be out here."