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It was but another world, one where life tries to co-exist, like so many other times. It was a time not of strongholds, and yet people were still hesitant, still apprehensive about an existence which relied on friendly relations. It was a realm which transcended the usual fantastical archetype, and yet shared many a thing in common...

It was a snowed abode, a fortress where possibility existed, but mostly beyond the confines of such land. Nevertheless, it was where Pax lived, he who was named for the hope of peace, the hope that one day a certain calmness might descend upon this strange, never-ending conflict that affected mainly this regional quarter. It was all Pax knew, but it was not all there was.

Peaceful this existence is not, though. The cries for the beyond, for what may be, have always existed, but what fool is hope? Why, when heat overwhelms? Why, when the cold pierces one from the opposite end? This might have been the situation for Nix, this forsaken land up in the depths of an unknown, random world in this haphazard universe. The cold, the solitude, is all one knew... until conflict arose, and indeed like a rose, pierced through the emptiness of this mere survival.

Pax wakened to respond to his friend's insistent calls, unlike many other days when lethargy is the usual, and as such concluded, shortly in that hazy mental state just before full consciousness, that something was amiss. That much was for sure, but what could possibly happen in this disregarded corner at the edge of the world?

"Pax! It is but another day in this snowed in, forsaken abode, with the exception that Pons, our soothing seer, seems to need to speak with you..."

She said this with her usual nonchalance, except that there was a hint of worry there somewhere, but otherwise her hair remained underneath, as always, but then again, one would surmise, there would need to be some widespread disturbance for that too to be out of place...

"What possibly might occur now...?" Pax asked, with his surprise painted on his face. It was not the usual outing, to visit the 'seer'... this, like with so much tradition, is usually reserved for either formalities or specific incidents, and this seems to be of the latter. Although, whether Pons could really help, who knew? Why anyone would believe someone set up as a seer Pax did not necessarily get enlightened to...

His friend continued...
"One knows not, but as few as we are here, we all still seek to learn what is possible about this world... so for now, then, Pons in the elevated plains could tell us..."
"Go on ahead beyond our home... mystery might, possibly, lay behind Pons' possibilities... beyond this frigid frontier..."

One might describe this as cryptic, but in reality lack of knowledge was the problem, and Pax indeed also wondered whether seers could ever truly have any more of that than anyone else... but why would people look up to them if they do not? Why, truly...

The air was still... for now. What could possibly be a harp could be sensed, for this was where Pax grew up, and so, sensory perception, like a vague feeling, indicated that this was what was, ideally, associated, along with a pause filled with memories conjured up only in one's imagination. A dream, one might say, divined from the middle of many adventures. Other times, a still image of a tree could be seen in Pax's mind, one that might have formerly brought cessation of life. At any rate, he wanted to know what could be used from his place...

He could go back to sleep, for now, weeks, or more usually a few hours, but as he had literally just woken up, why would he? Or so he thought; sleep was still alluring, though... for reasons unknown to anyone stuck in some dream which felt like hell transmogrified (but then again, so much of 'real life' is as such too, bits and pieces, like parts of a long sleep, even those that seem nigh unstable of gravity).

There also happened to be a black cat, because what other hue would one be in the midst of all this snow? Felines do need to stand out, after all... and mostly, at any rate, the cat liked to be petted and cuddled, like most other cats, and so did this one... and, despite all odds and contrary to all rational evidence, it seemed to communicate some desire? Or maybe it was Pax's imagination... in all likelihood, surely? There were some trinkets... perhaps to be played with later, one thought... but not the kind of trinkets a cat would like, no, even a beige one... a lamp also sat idly there nearby, as if trying to illuminate the nooks the snow could not, that bounty of many a night's light... there were also some boxes and a bin, but one would think that when a seer needs oneself, uh huh, perhaps doing some household chores would not exactly be on a list of priorities, but saying that, the mind always has a way with making one want to do things now or later...

But this was not the time to waste... although sitting a bit on a sofa never went amiss, and so Pax did, with all his peacefulness, rest a slight bit... and what happens to be found? Why, there was a fluffy ball stuck in between the cushions, who knew! (I suppose one can always play with those just before meeting seers... right?) - "What is this for...?" Pax thought, but of course it is obvious who is most likely to play with such balls... cats... and so the fluffy ball was given to the nearby fluffball. What does one know, then, catnip was left behind... who ever said barter trade ceased? Still, it was probably just forgotten there...

A small kind of shelf with some books one could also notice in the room; not exactly a library, one cannot say, and not precisely a whole load of books, but it always seemed sufficient lest one ran out of an actual library, which presumably is not quite possible. It did, regardless of how one described the physical, contain this one pertinent titbit...
"It was but a world without mercies, for if one had such the next would not, and so the nightmarish formula unfolded."
To which Pax, of course, was required to idly wonder...
"Who writes these things...? It... might... make sense? Possibly... maybe?"
But why anyone even attempts to wonder is, and does sometimes remain, a mystery.

There was also a bath, and why not take advantage of all there is before the fateful meeting? One could always return back some other time, but distraction could prove possible... in any case, Pax thought "how many moments of eased relaxation have I experienced? But a brief interlude from the chaos outside... will it last? Will the ravage of time settle? Or... would I be unable to even fulfil this mere desire for a pause?" - after gazing a bit idly for no apparent reason other than nostalgia perhaps, there seemed to be something left over, forgotten after the lull from life, a kind of magical quality to that which was so commonly seen, to which Pax wondered "How did the essence of water, the very substance of our relaxation, be able to even do anything else...?"

There was also, of course, a place to store items which need a certain cold quality, as this was not a bygone era, when only perhaps ice could freeze that which could use its molecules slowing down. Electricity exists here, as it does in many other places, despite its risks and conditions to which it subjects a world... but, at any rate, before talking with a seer it could only be useful to look for what might remain in this box fuelled to simulate solid gaseous water (a fridge, of course)... Pax thought, then, for this line of thinking was certainly more stimulating than the seriousness of some self-appointed seer... "The storage for all of our vital needs! Now, if only it could also contain the solution for our conflicts..."

Then, as Pax merely thought of the remote possibility of even daring to look towards the exit, there loomed two potted plants! But how do they matter, one asks? That is indeed a relevant question, for if Pax did not even solely gaze (although it was more of a line of sight sort of incident) - even thinking of, through recall, that there were potted plants, would have resulted in the following somewhat mysterious encounter, that made Pax not quite yell out, although not surely say internally... "something seems to be emanating, almost...?" - and it was thus that out of the potted plants, somehow, came words...

"It is not what these objects represent...
...for they are but symbols for words to augment...
...but it is still metaphorical for birds to collate..."

It was then that the ever puzzled, perplexed Pax merely sighed...
"Uh... not sure where that came from, but maybe it will make sense in the future? Like, over a lifetime...?"
And it did indeed take nearly a life for this one fellow to overcome everything one could attach oneself onto... to avoid encountering the permanently serious seer. For this was a narrative accorded to thought with regards to sociology, and that cannot exactly be done within the confines of one's home now, could it? Well, one supposed, if it concerned the interactions between items hidden in sofas and plants perhaps, but then one wonders if they ever interact at all, and would they even exist at all if Pax had not come across them?

Procrastination, though, and frankly a slight bit of lazing, had to come to an end, and while Pax would not immediately go and meet this aforementioned seer, a step needed to be taken... outside, where snow and ice reigned supreme.