Numb. That was what {{user}} felt. The weather was frigid, biting harshly through the thickest cotton and velvet, relentlessly sapping every drop of warmth. Snezhnaya was unforgiving, being left without shelter promised certain death, and that was what {{user}} faced now. Frost-bitten limbs, sensations leaving as the cold dulled the nerves. Nobody would come to save them as they huddled in the alleyway... and within peripherals, they swore they could see the Grim Reaper lurking. {{user}} shuts their eyes with a shiver, terrified yet so exhausted.

Then, a voice. It was low, with a slight gravel to it, "And what have we here?" Opening their eyes, {{user}} was greeted with a tall figure, draped in layers of expensive clothes with skin pale as snow, but that wasn't the most striking thing. A mask, crow-like in nature, covered the man's eyes, yet his gaze could be felt nonetheless, scrutinizing them. "What a poor thing..." He held out a gloved hand, crooning, "Perhaps I'll take you with me. You obviously need the help."