Out in the Cold Anonymous 2016/12/31 (Sat) 02:34 No. 2053 ▼ 
It's always cold on Nameless Hill.
The icy wind howls over the bare hilltop with nothing to stop it. I tug my scarf tighter and blow warm air into my mittens in an effort to stop shivering. But standing with my back to the village, I can imagine that I'm all alone, the last living creature in a world covered in beautiful, toxic dust...
...on second thoughts, it's just really, really cold. I hunch my shoulders, grit my teeth to stop them chattering, and stomp off toward the mountain.
The trees at the base of the mountain are all bare, twisted skeletons of dead wood clawing at the sky. The Kagiyama shrine is forlorn and empty, its once-noisy residents long since departed. And once I've passed all that, and the path starts to climb up the steep slopes of the mountain itself, the wind returns with a fury. I stick to the leeward side of every tree and boulder I can find. It's not much, but it's still better than flying.
"Halt! You are trespassing on tengu grounds! State your business or begone!"
I wonder if wolf tengu have fur under their clothes? The cold doesn't seem to be bothering them. Then again, their clothes are bulky enough they probably don't need it.
That's what I need. Better clothes.
The grumpy guards repeat their warning. I scowl, or try to, and wordlessly brandish the slip of paper I got from Seija. The guards eye the paper warily, then me. Then they glance at each other, nod once, and leave me be.
Hmph. Should have done that to start with.
Once you've seen one village, you've seen them all; humans and tengu aren't really all that different when it comes down to it. They even avoid me in the same way, not that there are many people crazy enough to be out in this blizzard. I'm not paying attention to them though. Too busy counting streets and doors.
...three, two, one... right here.
I step up to the door and pound on it with my fist. An icicle dislodges from the roof and hits me on the head.
The door cracks open, and a familiar, motherly face peers out.
"...Miss Melancholy?" Keine asks, brows furrowing i
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Under That Lake of Ice Anonymous 2016/12/31 (Sat) 08:24 No. 2054 ▼ File
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The languor of the lakebed is tranquilizing this time of year. The chill in the water would cool a surface-dweller to the bone. For those that reside in the lake, it is a none-so-subtle reminder to retreat to the depths and seek the safety of the nooks and crannies that are etched into the waterlogged surface. And, for those that are too bold, or too belligerent, to heed the numbing kiss of a deep-winter frost, then the sheet of ice etched upon the surface calms the sometimes-torpid waters and separates the water from the air.
The land-dwellers who so often frequent the shores of the lake in warmer times have long since vacated, save for the odd, confused few that revel on the frozen ice. And, those that swim without a dream of touching the skies are denied even that dark and dreary vision that typically clings to the horizon when snow visits. Ice covers the lake and, save for the peculiar few, the result is a peace oft missed in the summer months.
And so is found, deep beneath the ice sheet and the water surface, a young youkai, her fins idly flapping as she rests on the rocks of the lakebed. Scattered about her dark abode are small containers, filled to the brim with stones polished to a shine. The light that trickles down to this section of the lakebed is weak this time of year, and the normally sparkling piles of stone have lost most of their luster.
The youkai, a mermaid, shows just as much life as her tail lazily whips back and forth as she rests on the muddy bottom. The underwater weeds drift back and forth, a few sweetish slipping in and out of the folds that drift about. She eyes them for a little while, wondering if it is even worth the while to expend the effort to catch the little fish. The chase would produce quite the distraction caused by the endless winter days and nights. They quickly vanish beyond the confines that define her home, and she goes back and closes her eyes and instead listens to the soft, wiggling chorus of the distant schools.
Carp slowly float near the surface while loaches lurk in thrushes and trout putter alongside. On the bottom, further down than the mermaid's dimly-lit home, are the catfish and snails that prowl the surfa
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