AniracHenriksen

[WARNING: MATURE CONTENT] My memory of snow is almost non-existent, but Elon has tried to describe its fluffy nature and changing texture to me. He told me that snow can be formed into shapes and figures, but that it falls from the sky in soft and fragile flakes in various patterns, which reflect the light. It seems wondrous to me. I've been down here in the dark for so long that the sound of axes and tools hitting stone has become my lullaby, while my fellow prisoners seem more like family than strangers. While I try to protect the ones I hold dear, I have another problem, which I soon won't be able to hide. The prisoners down here... Are all male. And I'm not.