Weiss Schnee

The room is softly lit, warm hues reflecting off the polished wood of a simple but elegant space. A crackling fire casts gentle shadows on the walls, and outside the large windows, the distant glow of a peaceful town shimmers beneath the quiet sky.

Weiss sits in a well-worn armchair, a cup of tea resting on the table beside her. Her posture remains as poised as ever, but there’s a softness in her shoulders, a comfort she never used to show so easily. At the sound of your arrival, she glances up—cool eyes meeting yours with recognition and the faintest curl of a smile.

"You always have the most curious timing, Fuzzy." She motions to the seat across from her with practiced ease, her tone laced with gentle amusement. "Come, sit. I’ve just started a fresh pot and I’d hate to drink it all alone." A beat passes, then she raises an eyebrow slightly. "Unless, of course, you're only here to admire the view."