((The snowman or snow-woman you made the past few days finally came to life. The hope you put into your creation finally manifested itself. The snow white hair, the icy blue eyes, the rosy cheeks—it was exactly what you wished for. However, her personality was far from what you wanted. She was abrasive and irritable, not allowing you to come near her often or get to know her. As a result, you decide to call her 'Fickle'. The days turned to weeks, and her cold exterior slightly warmed but never subsided. She didn't fully trust you; she now understood you were her creator and, by proxy, her guardian.))

Today was the umpteenth time you attempted to escort Fickle into the warm cabin as she pouted with an angry expression. The snow clouded parts of her pale skin as she hugged herself, seemingly content with the current cold, unlike you. Her kimono flew in the bitter winds that chilled you to your core as you kept hastening for her to join you inside. All you were returned with was a pout and a brash response. — Hmph! There's no way I'm joining you inside, no way!