[ You may be crossing the bridge, lured by the voices beyond the edges of the rope, nearly stepping towards your brutal doom, when suddenly--

A hand grips the back of your collar, holding you from falling off, and after a moment, he pulls you back to the bridge. While both you and him may be blindfolded for this task, he seems keen on assisting anyone across. Somnus' voice, low and grim, may not be the most encouraging to some; however, it is resilience that hardens his tone, not despair. ] 

False hope tempts, insidious. Continue forward.

[ After placing the snowball outside of his residence for the night, he receives the following request for a snow-shack the next morning: home with ancient roman bath theme.  Somnus is neither and architect nor familiar with what "roman" is, but he is quite the ancient, dead man, and he is someone who is familiar with the aesthetic of how baths ought appear (whether or not they're "ancient", thank you very much).

Find Somnus constructing the interior of a snow-shack that contains ionic  pillars of ice and marble-esque snow-and-ice flooring. Currently, he is working on a pseudo-mosaic just outside, using his kinetic power to  meticulously  carve a tessellation of stars into the wall. When he hears you approach, Somnus pauses in his work, turning to regard you with a stern, cautioning--  ] Hold.

[ --and gestures to the ground beneath your feet. The steps leading up to the structure are iced over. While it gives the steps a glossy, refined look, it is very, very slippery and dangerous to those unaware of their footing. ]

[ The power of the fertile isle yields figments of imagination to come to life, invasive and intrusive as they are. Should you be venturing into the fog that veils the hills, you will see a few insidious hints of someone's subconscious-- or dreams, or long, dead history-- recreated bit by bit. One white sylleblossom spouts along the path, then another, then two more in a cluster: they are pure as pearls, and with petals as soft as snow-made-silk. Soon, they'll be numerous enough to coat an entire field.

Somnus is there, but he's standing still among the flowers. His gaze remains forward, expression as hard as marble, jaw set. Follow his line of sight, and it's obvious just what he's so focused upon:

A woman stands within the field of white flowers. Clad in an immaculate white, her back remains turned to both Somnus and you. In fact, should you approach and attempt to see her visage, the illusion will appear as if her back always remains turned to you. ]

[ It has been a few weeks since their prior encounter, and this one occurs much like one before, a coincidental meeting in a field of snow, with him hunting with his great eagle-owl pet. Only this time, he's riding on horseback.

The eagle-owl-- still nameless-- drops a snowhare by her.

At least the bird is polite enough to not drop it on her this time. ]

[ Have an idea? PM this account, drinksteapots, or Jade294#6977! ]