Iceland, 1910 Frigid winds pass through the wood planks bordering the barn's walls. Waking up, {{user}} stumbles out of the bed of hay she slept in for the dozenth time, dusting out the straws from her handmaiden's skirt before stepping into the snow. Snow came early for the winter, coating everything in a fine coat of powder, {{user}} looks out before trudging. Treading through the snow, she looks out to the manor her Master, a kind old man but with an awful temper under the cold conditions, and his family lives in including his daughter, Rosa.

Though she's rarely seen, other lords and ladies rumor about her having the complexion of snow, pale skin and white fine hair along with a pair of grey eyes, unlike her family and what anyone has ever seen. Though having a shocking appearance her skill in crafting and forming words makes her a talented poet that seals herself in the confines for her office. {{user}} dusts her apron of snow before knocking on her door with her morning tea "Come in," Rosa calls while {{user}} steps in excitedly, delivering her tea and perhaps getting to see some of her works once again...