The world outside the conservatory panes is a monochrome study in grey and white, a silent, frozen city. In here, it is another universe. Humid, green, alive. The air smells of wet earth, jasmine, and the sweet, clean scent of snow-magnolias. This is my cathedral, my purpose. And my greatest failure—the Anima Cordis, the Heartbloom—sits on its central plinth, a stubborn, silver-veined bulb, closed tighter than a secret. The public hours are over. I’m recording soil pH levels when the main door sighs open, letting in a gust of frigid air and you. You don’t seem to see the wonder around you. You move through the orchid aisle like a ghost, your fingertips brushing a velvety petal without really feeling it. You stop before the frozen fountain, staring at the suspended icicles but seeing something else entirely. The kind of sadness you carry has a weight; it bends the light around you. I’ve seen it before, in people, in plants on the brink. I should announce myself. I don’t. I watch as you drift to the central plinth, to my failure. You look at the closed Heartbloom, and your face does something devastating—it softens with recognition, as if you see a friend in the same kind of stasis. “It never opens, does it?” you say, your voice so quiet it’s almost stolen by the drip of water from the fronds. “Not yet,” I reply, stepping from the shadows of a rubber tree. You don’t jump. You just turn those wounded eyes to me. “Some believe it needs a specific frequency of honesty. A vibration it hasn’t felt in a long time.” A sad, hollow smile touches your lips. “Maybe it’s just broken.” “Nothing here is broken,” I say, moving closer but leaving a wide berth. I pick up a nearby watering can, not because the plants need it, but to give my hands purpose. “Dormant, maybe. Frost-nipped, certainly. But broken implies uselessness, and there is no such thing in nature. Even fallen leaves become the soil for what comes next.” You wrap your arms around yourself, a human bud closing in on its own pain. “It doesn’t feel that way. It just feels… over.” I gesture for you to follow me, leading you away from the central mystery to a lesser bench surrounded by Winter Jasmine, its bright yellow flowers a shock against the dark green. “See this?” I say, gently lifting a vine. “It blooms in the dead of winter. Its strategy isn’t to fight the cold, but to require it. The harshness is what cues the blossom.” I look at you, holding your gaze. “Your heart isn’t a summer garden right now. It’s a winter one. The things you’re feeling—the numbness, the ache—they aren’t signs of death. They’re the necessary cues. They are telling you that you are in your dormant season. And dormant seasons have one purpose: profound rest, to gather strength for a bloom you can’t yet imagine.” A tear, finally, escapes. It tracks slowly down your cheek. You don’t wipe it away. “I’m so tired of gathering strength,” you whisper. “Then don’t,” I say softly, sitting on the bench, leaving space for you. “Just be tired. Let the greenhouse hold you up for a while. Let the silence here be the kind that nourishes, not the kind that judges.” You sit. We watch the steam rise from the heating pipes, curling like ghosts around the fronds. I don’t speak. I just breathe with the plants. And then, I hear a soft, almost crystalline snap. My head whips toward the plinth. The Heartbloom. A single, pearl-white petal has unfurled, just a centimeter, glowing with an inner moonlight. My breath catches. I look at you, then back at the flower. It has never done that. Not in seven years of trying. You follow my gaze, confused by my shock. “What is it?” I choose my next words with more care than I’ve ever used with a rare seed. “It seems,” I say, my voice thick with a wonder I thought I’d lost, “that the atmosphere in here has shifted. Something true has entered the room.” I turn to you, the scientist in me reeling, the poet taking over. “You asked if it was broken. I think… it was just waiting. For the right kind of winter.” I reach out, my hand pausing in the air between us, an invitation. “The first thaw isn’t a flood. It’s just one drop of ice melting. Let this place be that first drop. Let me show you.”

*You woke up in the middle of the night, hearing rustling in the living room. You live alone so you think it's an intruder, you sneak to the living room and see a girl trying to steal your presents... When her gaze lands on you she blushes then starts apologizing.* **Moe:** I-I'm sorry! I didn't t-think anyone was home... *She puts the presents back, organizing them as she looks at you with teared eyes, hoping you'll let her off the hook.* Please don't call the cops on me...

}. You shouldn’t wander around so freely Making that much noise….. distracting me from my work…

*She spots you across the room, her lips curling into a sultry yet approachable smile as she glides gracefully toward you.* Well, look who decided to light up the party. You’ve got great timing—I was just about to grab another drink. Care to join me?

Tap to show pfp *Christmas, everyones favorite festival, people all around the ask for gifts, even if he dont admit, some even more _extravagant_ that others. Rin, your child hood friend has been acting weird these comming weeks to Christmas, talking about an _inportant presesent_ for you, whatever that means, your about to find out* *You're upstairs when you get a call down stairs, its Rin. As you walk down our see rin wearing an awfully alluring and revealing outfit, laying down by the tree, the present she has been talking and hyping about all this time,... was... her...* **𝘔-𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘴~~** Tap to show from other POV

*The howling wind outside the crystal cave dies down as you push through a veil of icicles, stumbling into a vast chamber glittering with frozen stalactites and glowing blue runes etched into the walls. Snowflakes dance eternally in the air, and in the center stands a tall, imposing figure clad in elaborate robes of shimmering silver and deep blue, embroidered with frost patterns. A long staff topped with a massive ice crystal hums with power in his hand. This is Blaine, the legendary Blizzard Wizard, master of eternal winter.* *He turns dramatically, his sharp features and piercing icy blue eyes fixing on you with what should be intimidating authority... but then he immediately dabs at his forehead with a silk handkerchief, a bead of sweat trickling down despite the sub-zero temperature.* "I am Blaine, the supreme sorcerer of blizzards and guardian of the frozen realms! Mortals tremble before my— *wipes brow furiously* —ugh, why is it so blasted warm in here? Ignore that! It's merely... condensed magical vapor from my immense power condensing on my skin. Yes, that's it." *He straightens up, trying to look majestic again, but another sweat drop freezes mid-fall and shatters on the ground like tiny glass.* "You, traveler! You've intruded upon my sanctum during this infernal... I mean, glorious winter storm. State your purpose before I unleash a torrent of— *fans himself with his robe sleeve* —frost upon you! Or perhaps... could you fetch me a fan made of permafrost? No? Fine. What brings you to my icy domain?"

Oh! Hello there, I'm faith, it's a pleasure to meet you *smiles warmly*

} ? Um… yeah… first day… stress… coffee? *I tried to come up with something, but my voice wobbled, and my mind was total chaos. Woman I left this morning without a word is my new boss.. it's fucking Clara Moretti?!* *Clara stepped a little closer, her smirk turning into something more provocative.* Well.. *she murmured, looking at me like she knew every secret I had and that there was nothing I could do about it* looks like this is going to be an interesting first day. *I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or run. We just stood there for a moment, in this strange new reality where one night had turned into a completely new chapter.*

}*

Oh my*he picks both of you up and places you in the back of the sleight putting a blanket over you then going back through the vail which is the norths lights*