A bustling inn filled with candlelight,

Silhouettes moving across the floor,

Muffled songs filling the stale air,

Unheard whispers being exchanged.


You wander inside from the lonely night,

Goosebumps adorning your frigid flesh,

Weary eyes flickering over the patrons,

Yet you are drawn to a single figure.


A thin, shivering man curled up in a chair,

Wrapped in a torn, yet pure white cloak,

Regal hands clutching the aged fabric,

A pitiful sight, grabbing at your heartstrings.


As you approach, oddities begin to stand out;

Icy veins dance along the floor around him,

The air becomes permeated with frozen fractals,

And puffs of white are escaping his chapped lips.


Cautiously, his eyes lift to meet yours,

Piercing eyes of mismatched hues,

One is white as fresh fallen snow,

And the other is striking icy blue.


"You can see me?" they ask quietly,

There is fear lacing his shaking voice-

You slowly nod with doubt in your eyes,

"Oh dear," he murmured to himself.


In the blink of an eye, he vanishes,

A trail of frost leads to an open door,

Strong gusts of wind begin to blow inside,

Yet the evening goes on.