Page 1 - Arrival

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He slowly walked on the snowy terrain. It was the entrance to the city. The sign loomed above him. It said 'Welcome to -'. The name was unreadable. Some joker decided to use it to draw an obscene drawing. In the right state of mind, it might have been amusing.

The snow beneath him was white. Not unusual, unless one would consider the amount of dirt in the air. He bent his knees and picked up a handful of snow with his bare, gloveless hands. The snow was crushed between his fingers, and fell silently to the ground.

A ghost city. Not a living soul for miles, as far as he could see. Event birds where no where about.

He kept on walking. Each step made a small crater in the snow. Each step made a sound that could be heard for miles, solely because no other sound would interfere with it.

There was no sadness yet. The reason being that he knew of no reason to be sad. His curiosity, however, knew no bounds.

Long ago, this was a desert city. Not desert in the sense of deserted. Desert in the sense that it rained less than ten days a year, and half of those day would not qualify for the term 'rainy,' should the adjective had not been so desperate to be used.

Now, it seemed desert in the reverse manner. Almost in every sense, beyond the fact that no one cared much for this town before he left as well.

It is only now, that sadness crept to him. This was not something he felt a lot. He was not comfortable feeling it, but sadness does have the effect of crushing one's heart, like the feeling of fear, hate, and lost love.

The description of one's soul should be accompanied with the description of one's physique.

He was tall. Even amongst those from truly cold lands, that forever have been white with snow, he was tall. His skin was white. It was apparent that sun was an alien in his life. His hair was long, and untamed. It was uneven. Appart from the fact that it was clean, it looked uncared for.

His face was hidden behind a mask of hair. Not unlike his hair, it was clean, but otherwise deprived.

Around him was a black cloak. It covered all his body, from his neck to his ankled, revealing only his hands and head. As was mentioned, his hands were bare. As was his head.

The image of black and white was shattered by a single ring upon his right ring finger. It would have gone unnoticed, unless one knew it was there.

He did not hurry with his march. It was not due to lack of ability, but lack of need. In addition, his soul was heavy.

The city around him was covered in snow. Beneath it, one would notice the buildings writhe with loneliness. None cared for them. The paint was peeling, and much was broken.

A single sign of life, however, could be seen. The windows were locked and barred. When the whole building was crumbling, the way in was secured from any intruders.

Further into the city he went, and slowly the signs of life grew. A road appeared beside him. It consisted of four tiremarks. One on each side. A single vehicle drove by since the last fall of snow.

At long last, he saw another living being. It was a man dressed completely in white, as if to contrast the blackness of his own cloak and hair.