[OOC: Winter was here before for the Another Story event.]
1. Welcome (Back) to the World of Crystallis!
Winter's eyes snapped open as the last trace of crystal disappeared from her body. Her legs were too weak to support her weight, and she stumbled to the floor, throwing out her hands to catch herself as she panted for breath. Her pale skin had gone paler still, beads of perspiration popped onto her forehead. As strength returned to her body and clarity returned to her mind, her lashes shuttered, and her breathing slowed.
That had been an attack. She'd been sure of that much when the pain swept upon her so harshly and abruptly, crippling her in the streets before stealing her breath. Some might argue that it was a freak occurrence, but Winter was a soldier...and a socialite. She'd learned to recognize hostility, and seldom granted the benefit of the doubt, especially when the damage had been done.
Cold displeasure fell across her face, and she slowly drew herself up to her full height. She gave a sharp tug to straighten her clothing, drew her gloved hand across her brow to wipe away the sweat, and swept her fingers through her snowy bangs to put every hair in perfect order. When she faced the person responsible for placing her into this wretched state, she would do so with deadly, perfect calm.
Her heels clipped in a prim, ladylike fashion as she approached the door. As she lifted her hand to knock, she glanced back over her shoulder, Winter's steel blue gaze traveling over the assorted gathering of crystallized heroes, until she saw Qrow's still form.
Good. Stay there.
She rapped her knuckles sharply on the door and informed the nervous attendant that she wished to leave immediately, and to call her Moogle to the hospital immediately to take care of affairs. Not even five minutes awake, and Winter was ready to get down to business.
-------------------------
2. Do You Like Your New Life?
[Gods and goddesses, bless the pour souls assigned to be Winter's housemates, because the first thing she did when she arrived was inspect the living quarters to see if they were too her liking.]
[Spoilers: they weren't.]
[Ten minutes later there's a chore chart and a checklist of supplies to keep on hand, cleaning solutions that must be stocked, and a dozen of duties needed to put this place into perfect shape.]
[To be fair, while her standards are ridiculously high, Winter's name appears on the list of chores as often as anyone else's. She's not afraid to do her share of the work. But she expects others to pitch in and make the most of their situation, or they're welcome to pack up and move somewhere else.]
[When all the chores are complete, the groceries bought, and order reigns supreme, Winter brews glasses of iced tea, perfectly chilled and elegantly adorned with a slice of lemon, served on a tray. As long as she's kept happy, Winter can be a very pleasant roommate. It's just the matter of keeping her happy that's difficult.]
Sugar?
[She offers the tiny porcelain cup, filled with sugar cubes and a pair of tweezers so people don't use their unwashed hands to choose their sweetener.]
Winter Schnee | RWBY
1. Welcome (Back) to the World of Crystallis!
Winter's eyes snapped open as the last trace of crystal disappeared from her body. Her legs were too weak to support her weight, and she stumbled to the floor, throwing out her hands to catch herself as she panted for breath. Her pale skin had gone paler still, beads of perspiration popped onto her forehead. As strength returned to her body and clarity returned to her mind, her lashes shuttered, and her breathing slowed.
That had been an attack. She'd been sure of that much when the pain swept upon her so harshly and abruptly, crippling her in the streets before stealing her breath. Some might argue that it was a freak occurrence, but Winter was a soldier...and a socialite. She'd learned to recognize hostility, and seldom granted the benefit of the doubt, especially when the damage had been done.
Cold displeasure fell across her face, and she slowly drew herself up to her full height. She gave a sharp tug to straighten her clothing, drew her gloved hand across her brow to wipe away the sweat, and swept her fingers through her snowy bangs to put every hair in perfect order. When she faced the person responsible for placing her into this wretched state, she would do so with deadly, perfect calm.
Her heels clipped in a prim, ladylike fashion as she approached the door. As she lifted her hand to knock, she glanced back over her shoulder, Winter's steel blue gaze traveling over the assorted gathering of crystallized heroes, until she saw Qrow's still form.
Good. Stay there.
She rapped her knuckles sharply on the door and informed the nervous attendant that she wished to leave immediately, and to call her Moogle to the hospital immediately to take care of affairs. Not even five minutes awake, and Winter was ready to get down to business.
-------------------------
2. Do You Like Your New Life?
[Gods and goddesses, bless the pour souls assigned to be Winter's housemates, because the first thing she did when she arrived was inspect the living quarters to see if they were too her liking.]
[Spoilers: they weren't.]
[Ten minutes later there's a chore chart and a checklist of supplies to keep on hand, cleaning solutions that must be stocked, and a dozen of duties needed to put this place into perfect shape.]
[To be fair, while her standards are ridiculously high, Winter's name appears on the list of chores as often as anyone else's. She's not afraid to do her share of the work. But she expects others to pitch in and make the most of their situation, or they're welcome to pack up and move somewhere else.]
[When all the chores are complete, the groceries bought, and order reigns supreme, Winter brews glasses of iced tea, perfectly chilled and elegantly adorned with a slice of lemon, served on a tray. As long as she's kept happy, Winter can be a very pleasant roommate. It's just the matter of keeping her happy that's difficult.]
Sugar?
[She offers the tiny porcelain cup, filled with sugar cubes and a pair of tweezers so people don't use their unwashed hands to choose their sweetener.]