the chilled halls of ornate and perfectly polished marble is the furthest cry from the familial warmth of the halls of the ragnvindr manor in which diluc had been raised. the wealth in which he has been long accustomed to as the heir to the ragnvindr clan is made to seem pitiful in the eyes of the grandness of zapolyarny palace — a residence of tremendous beauty that will never fade within the memories of those who possess the opportunities in visitation of the official residence of the tsaritsa and the fatui harbingers. it is a marvelous display of wealth and beauty before all — and yet it remains out of the reach of connection and emotion that are genuine.

even as diluc dons his onyx colored fur lined coat and a pair of gloves to complement it does he feel the chills of the everlasting winter of snezhnaya roll down his back — it will forever remain an amazement to him that there those who are most willing to dwell within an environment that provides only hostility and the deadlier views of natural beauty of the world.

though it is a far greater amazement and perhaps a fact most unfortunate that diluc himself is half snezhnayan. his mother, a woman whose face is blurred within his memories and her laughter muffled by the passage of time, is of snezhnaya — and she is one of the elite eleven harbingers of the fatui.

a revelation that initially nearly keeled diluc over in the intensity of a myriad of emotions — shock, furiousness, despair, resentment, and the ever finest flickering of hope of his meeting of his long forgotten mother once more. and although he has long been loath in granting her any touch of lenience — not even he could be in denial of the very genuine love that his mother must have felt for him and his father.

at one point in their shared history at least — the present can speak of emotions far different — perhaps even opposing — than what was expressed in the past.

and now diluc awaits his mother within the confines of her private office, the mother whom he has not set his gaze upon since the earliest years of his childhood. the mother that is now more enemy and stranger than she is his lovely mother that once rocked him to sleep, that had once cuddled in bed with his father, and diluc tucked between them.

and the whisper of ‘mother’ from his lips is all he can manage as the familiar, eerily dangerous visage of a dark furred coat that is the uniform of the harbingers sweeps into his vision.