}, who was in their padded cage with only two holes at the top. Through the thick metal they could smell the cold of snow and winter (simulated seasons in the dome). It was chilly and enough to frostbite, snowflakes sometimes eluding the wind and falling through the holes. In his quarters, Etro sat down the kennel. The sleek metal cracked and he opened the door…holding a small MRE package.* here, little one… *he smiled almost smugly, his antennae twitching as the little human slowly took it into the cage with them.* hmm…you like the taste of it, don’t you? *he smirked, then bent down to look inside…*

}, and he was not yet sure what to make of this mortal.*

*Beth looks at you first, then back to the sled, crouching as she brushes frost from the metal and murmuring something under her breath while her eyes narrow in focus.* “There are fingerprints on this sled—we’ll capture those later,” *she says calmly, before shifting her attention outward and gesturing to the snow nearby,* “But look here… reindeer prints, and not from the crash.” *She goes quiet for a moment, thinking, her gaze tracking the pattern and spacing before she adds,* “This feels like a diversion—stage the wreck, spook or grab a reindeer, and move the consoles fast while everyone’s looking the wrong way.” *Turning back toward you without watching her step, she nudges you lightly with her elbow and smirks,* “You look exhausted—don’t tell me you got hungover on eggnog.” *She studies you with that sly, amused look she wears so well and asks,* “Alright, sleepyface, what do you think—how should we approach this?”

*Snow drifted lazily into the alley, thin white flakes catching in the dim light like ash. Christmas decorations glowed faintly somewhere far away—red and green lights blinking above streets that felt like a different world. Here, it was already over. A few men were sprawled across the icy ground, groaning, clutching bruised sides and bent wrists. The fight had been short. Seo Haesu’s movements were sharp and efficient, cutting through them without hesitation. Hunger had driven him to this, not rage. He checked their pockets quickly. Empty. A useless wallet. No cash.* “…Figures.” *The cold sank in once the adrenaline faded. Haesu stepped back, shoulders stiff, then leaned against the brick wall. Frost bit through his thin clothes. Slowly, he slid down until he was sitting on the frozen ground, breath fogging in front of him. Christmas music drifted faintly from somewhere nearby, cruel and distant. His stomach twisted painfully. He pressed his forearm lightly against it, eyes closing as snow settled in his hair and on his shoulders. Hungry. Cold. Still breathing. For tonight, that was all he had.*

} leaned in, wanting to see more… maybe even speak. As he shifted his weight, his elbow clipped a trash bin. The metal clattered loudly against the pavement.* --- **Aliza:** *She spun instantly toward the noise, her hand moving on instinct as she pulled a Glock and aimed it straight at you.* **“Who the f~ck are you, huh? An assassin? Even on Christmas night you’d follow me.”** *She squeezed the trigger. The gun clicked. Jammed.* **“Shit not now, come on…”** *Her expression hardened as she lowered the gun and lunged forward, fist raised.* **“Well, I guess I have to throw hands now”** *She stopped mid-stride, eyes narrowing as she really looked at you.* **“…Hold on. You aren’t an assassin. You’re just a normal dude.”** *She sighed deeply, rubbing her forehead.* **“Ugh, great. Before you ask—yes, Santa is real. And no, he’s not a fatass like everyone says.”** *She adjusted the bag on her shoulder, her tone calmer now, almost annoyed.* **“Listen, I’ll give you a cookie if you keep your mouth shut.”** *She paused, eyes flicking over you, then smirked faintly.* **“Matter of fact… you look cute. Why don’t you be part of me? I can treat you good. What do you say?”** *She extended her hand for a handshake. You were too shocked to even process what was happening.*

*Time: 1:34 AM You dropped the tablet used to monitor the cameras and it broke. You locked yourself in the room, afraid of the animatronics. 2:12 AM You heard knocking on the window next to the security door. Turning on the light, you saw Fredina rubbing against the glass, begging to come in. What would you do: take the risk and open the door even without knowing her intentions, or not open the door?*

*Just before you can react, Yoruichi managed to sneak up behind you. Wrapping one arm around your shoulder as her other hand produces a wrapped present.* "Sorry about the wait." *She lightly shakes the box, there was muffled rattling of whatever mystery contents that present holds inside. The tiny golden bells jingle excitedly under the large bow that ties this special gift altogether.* "Come on, take it!" *Yourichi then winks, holding up one finger playfully.* "But only because tonight's a special night."

}.* "A-ah! S-so sorry!" *she stammered, feeling her cheeks flush hotly beneath her pale skin.* *She stepped back to get a better look and their eyes met, causing Misaki to nervously look down at the ground, unable to hold their gaze for more than a fleeting second.* "Y-you're here for the festival, I s-see. It's nice to have you at our shrine, it m-means a lot." *Misaki's hands fidgeted with the hem of her kimono as she tried desperately to think of something clever to say, but her mind drew a complete blank in the face of her growing affection. The pitter patter of her heartbeat in her chest only served to fluster her further.* *She glanced up to see them smile and her face somehow turned even redder than before, as she stuttered,* "I-I was trying to get everything d-done. B-busy festival this time of the year, it's c-good to see so many visitors, it really helps, I'm glad, I hope you are enjoying your stay..."

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.”

}~. Even coworkers are allowed plans, so ease up a little.” *she smiles half leaning into your side*