Frozen

==Freezing==
Why was she here? She had been told to… do something, by someone. She could not remember it now. It was too cold to think any further than the present, and of finding warmth. She could barely see more than ten feet in front of her, as the blizzard swirled around her, whistling through the joints in her armour, tearing at her cloak, whipping her hair from under her helmet and stinging her eyes.
The cold was everywhere, all around her; stinging, biting, numbing, freezing. She could barely feel her nose, and the ice on her eyelashes fell in sparkling showers each time she blinked. Her lips were split and sore, but too cold to bleed. Each breath stung the inside of her throat and her nose, giving her a headache.
Where was north? Where had she come from, which direction? Where was the outpost? It was… behind her, probably. Somewhere back there. But she could have been walking in circles without realising, subconsciously turning to protect herself from the chill wind and the blasting snow, or worse, with the mountains surrounding Dragonblight, she could be walking in circles within an eddy of wind.
Stiffly she turned on the spot, her plate armour clanking. Under it, the leather of her under-armour that protected her from rubbing by the plate creaked and chafed at her skin, stiffened by the cold and only supple in certain places because she kept moving. It scraped against the scars on her torso, but she could not feel that more than a slight tickle. While the leather blocked the wind, it did nothing against the nagging cold that suffused the air, or the frigid melt from snow blown inside the joints in her armour.
Behind her were her own footsteps. Earlier, they had been easily definable. Now, each footstep dragged into the next as she ran out of energy to lift her feet further. Or maybe the snow was deeper. Yes, she was getting nowhere by continuing onwards. She would have to turn back.
She raised her hands in front of her and tried to mutter a quick prayer for healing and revitalisation, moving her fingers through the correct passes - tried to. Her numbed fingers refused to answer to her commands, and the cold as she opened her mouth to speak made her gasp and cough.
Her armour was holding her back, she decided. Its weight was weighing her down, focussing the wind into uncomfortable areas, exhausting her. She stopped, fumbling with the various buckles that held her armour secured. Again, her frozen fingers could not manage the subtle movements. Hissing, she bent – ouch, chafing leather – to remove her dagger from its boot-sheath. Grimacing, she sliced through the leather straps on her plate, wriggling her arms to free it. She then followed with the armour on her legs. She took her boots off, and grimaced as water trickled out of them – remains of snow – and froze into a puddle on the ground. She tore off her cloak, and tied it roughly around her face to keep the wind at bay, then trudged on.
== Frozen ==
S-so c-cold, so terribly, horribly cold; how long had she been walking? Was she even still walking?
She peered blearily down at her legs to check that they were still there – she could not feel them. And yes, they were walking, automatically trudging forwards through the knee-deep snow. She was sure that she had seen that mound before. That little bit of black armour with red trim poking out of the snowdrift. How odd. What was armour doing out here in the snow?
Curiosity cut through her frozen haze, so Faern shuffled towards the strange lump in the snow, blinking sleepily at the mound as she drew closer to it. It looked familiar. Maybe she had known someone who had worn that sort of armour before. Why was it here? What sort of a silly person took off their armour in the middle of nowhere?
Faern reached the armour, and flopped down to sit on the snow. It felt good to sit; comforting. In fact, she felt a little warm. She had stopped shivering. Maybe the blizzard was clearing and the day warming up.
“Thush guhd,” she muttered to herself, her voice slurred almost beyond recognition, but she did not notice. Carefully, she reached out to brush some snow off from the armour. “Thash odd,” she muttered. Her hand had not made contact with the metal. Or maybe it had? She could not feel it. But it certainly had not cleared away a layer of snow on the metal. “Heheh, shilleh, yuuh ehrmed wrung.” 
Faern shrugged her shoulders. She did not feel that either, and to be honest, she did not care whether she had or not. Well, if she wanted to see what this armour was, she would have to try again, would she not? Yes, she would. She giggled to herself slightly and reached out again, her arm clumsy. Swinging it vaguely, she managed to brush a fair bit of snow off, revealing the armour to be a black breastplate with red edging. Pinned through a strap on the front was a Blood Knight insignia.
How odd. What sort of a Blood Knight would take their armour off, and not take their insignia? What a silly person had left these!
==Related Links==
* Faern Flameshine
Category:Story
Category:Dead Characters
Category:Blood Knight
Category:Blood Elf
Category:Horde