Since youth she’s hated snow. While the passing of seasons marked new beginnings and new experiences, for her it meant more work and more issues across her body. The cold fronts would frost her delicate eyes and leave her freezing to the bone even when in layers. All while she had to manage her duties; which unfortunately meant going outside, in the cold, to do such duties. As it stood Myrrhmyr was not having a great time as a result of such weather. Even with the majority of her body covered and eyes veiled she still felt the biting frost seeping through her skin. Not even the boots on her hooves blocked the wet biting feeling of trudging through the wretched snow. While she knew her job was an absolute necessity, it was still just that, a job and as such she had no qualms about complaining about it even when she stood to begin repairing the portion of the barrier she had been assigned. The portion in question, she bitterly noticed, was in dire need of intervention. While it was fitting they would send one of their more competent mystics to handle it- “They could’ve at LEAST sent me with an escort! Honestly, it’s freezing out here. Had I been a stallion I know I would’ve frozen something QUITE specific off by this point.” If one of her co-workers could hear her she knew they’d reply with it already did freeze off. Unfortunately with how far apart they were no amount of bemoaning and chittering about the terrible circumstances would reach them. Not unless she decided to send a messenger bird; but really, what would be the point when they could rant about it later over sweet wine and pastries? As she sent her magic forward to start closing the gaps in the wall, at some point she remembers she did at least enjoy some aspect of the snow. It meant cozy nights at home with her parents spent by the hearth, a den of blankets and a banquet of a holiday feast waiting at the heart of the home just begging to be eaten. The snow gave her excuses to stay indoors enjoying the company of others rather than running around maintaining order and society. Myrrh at least had something to look forward to after this at the bare minimum. With one of her associates being a prolific lover of celebrations, it was guaranteed that she’d end up invited to a holiday bash. Like the last one she hoped the spiced cinnamon rolls would be there, the delicious little things that paired so well with a light wine. Of course hopefully unlike last time nobody would get black out drunk again. Even in the midst of freezing her ends off she could remember the mess left in the wake of some particularly inebriated individuals. How they managed to get chocolate and canapés on the ceiling, a twenty foot high ceiling, was a mystery in itself that she still couldn’t figure out. Shaking herself free of her thoughts she noticed that she had poured enough arcane energy to seal the gap in the barrier. Leaving behind a distinctly pristine and slightly pink tinged wall in her wake. With this section being the last of her list, it meant she was free to finally get off duty and go do something more interesting. Turning from the wall, Myrrhmyr began her most brisk trot back home to get away from this horrible weather, teleporting sporadically to make the journey as fast as she could while maintaining her energy. While she wished she could just hop to and from her destination she had used a lot of magic to repair such a severe rip, and she did not want to be stuck out here. Unfortunately, for her as she made her way back she may have miscalculated a jump or two. In her haste to return a misplaced teleport left half of her body in a distorted angle in relation to the ground… while on a hill. The end result of such a mishap was a very messy tumble from the top to the bottom, with panicked sliding and flailing hooves included. And once she finally collapsed at the bottom of said hill she propped her head up to puff off some of the snow that had basically buried her. Now thoroughly pissed and wanting to do anything but be here. With a very frustrated sigh, Myrrhmyr stood and shook herself off. Huffing at the site of her ungraceful descent. “Gods… I really hate snow.” (763)