═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════Username:IcyWolf99
Name:Boreas
Gender:Male
Personality in 5 words:Polite, Crisp, Creative, Cold, Yearning
History: (400 words MAX)
For me there had always been winter.
I knew of nothing else.
I knew of nothing but snowflakes, wind, and ice.
Of bare branches of beaver brown bark, of frozen lakes and rivers and the expanse of grey-blue skies.
I had no memories of my childhood, only bitter wind and cold snow.
So I live in my winter wonderland.
It is not the arctic, that I've read about in books and stories in my library.
The arctic is wild, unforgiving, and bitter.
Not like where I reside.
Yes, I live in an average suburban neighbourhood coated in layers and sheets of fresh snow, with a snow covered forest nearby.
But it's lonely here.
Lonely.
There's no one in this vast area but me.
Only me.
I've read about everything there is to know, in the small library of mine.
I've heard of Spring, Summer, and Autumn.
Sweet words I can only taste, but never touch.
The warmth and beckoning of Spring, flowers blooming, new growth.
The heat and haze of Summer, fruits and vegetables prospering , everyone playing under the sun.
The fire-leaves and winds of Autumn, with the foods ready to harvest, to eat and enjoy.
I guess I'm wistful.
Most days, I sit and dream to leave this place.
However, I cannot.
I'm bound to this place by some magical force, that I cannot resist.
At least I know I live in a snow globe world.
Shocking, is it?
I've found the door, but not the outside.
Sometimes I let others come in, so I'm not forsaken.
Maybe it's my purpose. To show them a bit of my world.
The ones who are let in look joyous with my winter.
So maybe it's not so bad.
Sometimes they bring in bits of their world, that they give to me.
I've had glimpses of the true world.
Not bad at all.
Currently, I walk in my snow covered park, tracing the edge of the path.
I smell the scent of the ever-falling snow, and feel the crisp coldness.
I feel the wind in my hair, blowing pleasantly.
The surface lake is frozen, and in the sheen of it, I see my reflection.
In a way, I guess I clash against the whites, greys, and blacks.
But in a way, I believe I match.
I suppose I'm not miserable.
In fact, I'm quite content.
Even if there's only winter.
(398 words, not including this.)