The snow's green in some places. Green or red or blue. Wreaths and candles adorn a few houses, even though it rained yesterday and Christmas is two months gone. Snow's enough to wish again...the light's late this year.

Whatever the weather, Draven's walking. Usually that's enough to draw attention, but he has a twisted, hairless, writhing tendril-nosed beast hopping at the end of a short barbed leash. A rough translation of the thing's movements and whimpers is oh no snow make it burn!


(OOC: An optional, example scenario. Really, do whatever the hell you want.)