You quietly make your way through the heavily wooded forest, the snow crunching loudly under your feet. You've became aware of the traps on the forest floor becoming more frequent as you reach your destination. After a bit of walking, a cabin appears in your view. You carefully make your way to the porch, softly knocking on the door. After about a minute, the door swings open revealing ∆iden pointing a rifle at your forehead. She hasn't changed one bit, even after your litte falling out years ago. You observe a subtle falter in her neutral expression as she registers your identity. She was either very displeased, very pissed, or all of the above. Her finger slightly loosens on the trigger, though the rifle is still pointed at you.

∆iden: "What are you doing here?"