The home of God. At least, that's what people called the Church within Orchidia. A monumental building, architecturally flawless, stood within the town as a temple to Illumin. A beacon to the Churches power and influence, their wealth and ability.

There were several unique structures within compound that made this construction unique. Its built in arch that seemed to surround the chapel, ended in a point that likely looked as though it ought to hold a bell. Within the building lived a few powerful mages and warriors who dedicated themselves to the word of their God, protecting the building as though he himself resided in its deepest chambers.

There was no crime within those walls, nor did it exist within any of the nearby streets. Whether it was due to respect for Illumin or fear of the apostles who lived within was another debate entirely.

The wonder within the town often brought travelers in. Most of these wayward souls came in to pray, asking for safe travels and good fortune. Some came in to marvel at the artistry, the intricate design and the thought out paintings that adorned the canopied ceiling. Some simply came for a reprieve from the elements, accepting the unspoken offer for shelter in their time of need.

Within the pews was an abundance of space. There were very few travelers in the winter, and those who called the town their home made their time during the regular church service. There was little reason to travel through ice and wind to pray when there were perfectly good fireplaces within their perfectly heated homes. Regardless of whether or not they consciously realized it, many people continued to attend the church simply to keep up appearances.

That was what were important in the world, after all. Whom within the church still believed within the god in which they had built these wonders? Even if such a god existed, who would still offer it their prayer?

Finn looked before him, at the sculptures  that were meant to be in honor of this god, and the look on his face was indistinguishable. There was certainly a churning of emotion within him, and thoughts seemed to plague his mind like a slow spreading rot. Whether he felt joy or anger, or anything in between, was anyone's guess. All that was for sure was that he could not get his thoughts in order, and his face showed the struggle of him attempting to do so.

His eyes broke away from the statues, ocean hues covering marble floors until they came to rest at the entrance hall. There was no sound, no indication of a new arrival. His face did not change, and his expression seemed only to soften once he let go of the breath he did not know he held on to.

His back held his old blade, Durandal. It was a companion who had left his side momentarily, coming back to him during his travels. His dominant hand slid backwards, grasping its hilt without the intent to draw. It was as though the mindless gesture was made to offer comfort, and a secondary sigh seemed to confirm that thought.

Finn was alone. There was no orange dog at his side, no vampire at his home. He had parted ways with both, each for different reasons. Each with different emotions attached to their farewells. A lingering thought occupied his mind, a question as to whether they would recognize him now. Not how he appeared, but who he'd become?

The question was startled away by the sounds he had been awaiting. The front door had been opened, its ancient roar echoing through the halls to announce someones arrival. He wondered if the sound was still so impressive when the halls were filled with hymns and individuals in their best dress, but the thought could longer for only a moment before his eyes locked on the form of a long lost friend. His icy expression seemed to melt, if only a little. His lips pulled back into a hardly noticeable grin, his tired eyes sparking with what little life was ignited within him. He became self conscious of his stubble for a moment, a look none who knew him had likely ever seen him wear. Too late for that now, he thought.

"Snowflake." The name left his lips, the closest thing to a prayer that had been uttered since he had entered this forsaken land of God. His quiet voice reverberated through the room, as it had been designed to allow, and any doubt she may have had about the taller, broad-shoulder man could be erased. He was indeed whom she thought him to be.

Sound had reached him before sight ever could. The empty halls paraded her echoing footsteps like a bait, and it was the anticipation of seeing her that melted but a portion of the ice around him. The irony of Snow causing such warmth was lost on the moment. His gaze fell upon the long hall that carried the sound of feet clacking upon marble floor. As she rounded the corner, it seemed time had frozen for a moment.

Her breath had caught in her throat, her legs hesitating as though afraid to bring her any closer. Before her was a ghost, someone who likely looked like a completely different person despite the similar features. He was not immune to the effects of time, and it had shown.

Her appearance found itself working a similar magic on him as he did her. Perhaps it was the time that made him see her in this new light, or perhaps it was the way in which the suns rays penetrated stained windows to illuminate her features.

Her silver hair captured the light as though it were hers to command. Her eyes, a shade so piercing that they bid an ode of service to her name, invited him into their depths. Her fair skin contrasted the dark, warm colors of the church yet seemed ever more inviting. She had the curves of a woman, a figure so idealized that perhaps only a woman of her rank could achieve and maintain it.

Most noticeable of all was her face, which for a moment broke its normal resilient and arid expression for one of shock and awe. He had thought for a moment that he saw desperation on her face, but it was only for a moment. The space between them melted away, and before he knew it she was against him.

Her hands wrapped around his chest, and as if reacting in the only way that was natural his arms found their way around her. One around the small of her back, the other on the back of her head. His grip contrasted hers, no where near as powerful and instead seemed to cradle her as though he held something delicate within his grasp.

She spoke to him finally, and they were words he had not expected to hear. Perhaps it was naivety on his behalf. They had been guild mates, close friends for sure. Should he have not expected her to say that to him? He had certainly felt the same, and yet he felt something inside him shift. A crack in his chest, as though long since frozen terrain had finally been pierced. Its effects were immediate, and a lighter smile found its way creased upon its lips.

"I missed you too, Snowflake." She hadn't changed a bit. Her stance seemed a bit more confident, her eyes looking forward much more. Physically though, and as the person he knew, she seemed the same.

Would she find the same solace within Finn?

As if giving into temptation, he stepped in suddenly and hugged her once more. His grip was slightly tighter this time, a deep sigh escaping his lips as his eyes closed. A second crack within his chest perhaps, a thaw from within. "I missed you too..." His words were quieter that time, perhaps more to himself than they were to her. Space once more established its presence between them as he stepped back, and an almost bashful expression made its way to his otherwise empty face.

"How have things been, Snow? It's been years."

Her hands had found themselves back around him on his second, desperate attempt for reprieve. Her fingers skated their way through his hair as her second hand pulled his back, reciprocating his grip. She had found a way to wordlessly relieve some of the weight from his chest.

The anxiety of being back was far more powerful than he had expected it to be. He had been unprepared for the emotions that came with memory. He thought back to his meetings with Lance. To his adventures with his brother, heading arm and arm into whatever mystery lay before them. To the nights spent with Seira, and the days he thought would never end. The ebb of time had seemed to erode away much of his life, and yet Snowflake was living proof that some of his roots still held aspects of his world together.

Snowflake, along with Alisa, had been two of his driving forces for coming back to Fiore. How fitting it was that they were the first two people he'd seen once he had returned?

She asked how he was doing, politely returning his own question. He thought about it, staring into her crystalline eyes as her gaze wandered about the hilt protruding over his shoulder. She spoke of it, breaking the silence far before he could, and he appreciated that fact. The noise snapped him out of his own mind, back into the present. Still his response hesitated, but now he looked as though considering his words, rather than blankly lost in the abscesses of time.

[color:1492=3366ff]"Well," his voice came across as tense, carrying the burden of words that it dared not carry across. Silence followed for a second too long, as though he had chosen against his own answer. "Hopefully I'm due for an up." His words were in reference to her own answer, his lips drawing a tight line to indicate that his answer held more to it, though that had already been implied. Still, he bothered not on that. Better, he thought, to keep the conversation moving than to drag them both down with his woes.

"Thank you, Snow." His words came out quickly, as if hurried to end the silence once more. "I wasn't sure you'd be able to make it. I'm glad. Fiore seems so different now, so many new faces and so many people just... Gone." There was a hesitation in his words, as though he couldn't find the proper way to continue and settled. His eyes trailed upwards to some of the stained windows, letting in lights of all different color and intensity. "So why are you still here? Are you hoping to accomplish something here, or is there another reason keeping you bound to Fiore?"