The grey, dirty walls of her cell seemed to close in on Wynter as she sat in her coldness. Ice crusted along her skin and the walls of the cell so you couldn't see an inch by the time it reached the top of the ceiling. It was like being in her own little world; a cruel, cold little void in the middle of the fiery death's doorway or rather more, in death's house. Just....death itself. No, death was too merciful. Pain, suffering, people being torn to shreds and losing their humanity. It was like being in a war zone, except they couldn't fight back or run; a target on the shooting range. Wynter didn't like to consider herself human. Rather more ice, a pure element that generates life, yet can take it just as quickly if you're dragged to the bottom. Ice can seal people off and sparkle beautifully in the sunlight, yet it would slowly melt into a mass of water that led anywhere. That was Wynter's only reason not to be like her element. She was contained for the joy of others and slowly melted into a different liquid, no longer her pure element. Right now, the ice that she cocooned herself in was the only comfort, no matter how many goosebumps she had. The cold slid down Wynter's back like a gentle hand and comforted her, reminding her of how her mother once stroked her before her brothers were born. Sometimes she wondered if her parents knew she would really be winter when they named her Wynter.
Each breath left the air colder and dancing fog hung in the air before disappearing. If only Wynter could stay like this forever, curled in a cocoon of ice like a caterpillar. She hoped she never turned into a butterfly.