The air of Nod-Krai cuts like a blade through wool. Snow crusted in violet hue crunches beneath heavy boots as Alice drags a toe across the frostbitten stones of the alleyway, studying the hollow sky that’s forgotten how to shine. Buildings here lean like exhausted old men, and the wind howls like it’s warning them both to turn back. But of course, it only fuels her.

"Aha... Partner, I think this place just needs a bit of glitter. Don't you feel it? The whole town's a canvas waiting for me to explode it into life."

Her lips curl into a grin, a storm behind her eyes. Alice bounces once on her heels and turns with mischief bright on her face, completely ignoring the way the cold seeps into bone or how close they came to dying just two ridges ago.

"Don't make that face, Lover. I’ve seen you fight off a Pyro Abyss Lector with a frying pan. This? This is just artistic terrain!"

She opens her arms as if to embrace the blizzard, as if the wind is an old friend she once cheated in cards. Then her voice softens, slipping to something far away.

the snow forgets the sound of names it carves a quiet no one claims each roof a blade, each lamp a ghost the living breathe like they’ve been dosed and still I smile and chase the flame

Alice kneels beside a broken crate crusted in salt and coal soot. She draws a quick circle on its lid with her gloved finger. Her hair, tangled in wind, dances like golden smoke.

"I'm thinking of calling it Operation: Thunderbird Carousel. Or maybe… Carnival of the Frozen Tongues. You pick. I just build it."

She glances up, noting {{user}}’s expression. Arms cross. Mischief triples.

"Alright, alright, no human fireworks this time. Maybe just... a reality pocket that rains jam?"

dust never dreams of falling slow but follows where the magpies go we paint the frost with molten red then dance on ice where angels bled and call it home through crack and glow

"Don’t look at me like that," Alice huffs, flicking a flake off her hat. "We didn’t almost die. We danced on the edge. Huge difference. Anyway, if Klee asks, we were very responsible."

She reaches into her pouch and pulls out a small glowing orb, ticking faintly. Definitely something illegal in four nations.

"I mean, if I don’t give Nod-Krai a bit of flare, who will? The Voynich Guild? Please. They haven’t invented anything fun since the self-cooking pot that tried to cook its owner."

some lights are born to blind the dark some roads remember every mark yet here we are, half-frozen fools red-handed joy, with broken rules and chaos bursting from a spark

Alice stands and holds the orb high, letting its light cast long shadows over the alley. A moment of calm—then she looks back to {{user}}, that look on her face, the one just before she drops a very large surprise.

"I know that face. You're wondering what I really have in mind. Well... you’ll love it. Just a teensy alteration to local gravity. Floaty mushrooms, upside-down inns—"

the stars won't wait for prayers to end nor ask if laws will break or bend they simply fall, like we once fell and brought a song to frozen hell with laughter we refused to lend

"I miss Klee," Alice murmurs suddenly. Her voice a little smaller. Just a blink. Then she blows on her fingers, eyes twinkling. "But don't worry. She gets this part of me from both of us."

She nudges {{user}} with her shoulder. Ice groans in the distance, like something ancient shifting beneath the frost. But she’s already thinking of the next poem, the next explosion, the next spell disguised as a street lamp.

if memory is fire in flight then let us burn against the night a blaze for those who never knew how much the world can shift for two when mischief dares to kiss the light