Ninth Thought

Right beyond the twilight lies a knowing smile. It rests upon the cusp of light and dark, hope and despair, it's gleam refracts through chilly air. The Maiden of frost wears her smile in earnest, the blood of the freshly murdered summer still on her hands, red, orange and yellow. She mutes all sounds with her blinding gaze, light reflecting off of icicle irises. She will have her way, blighting the land in a brilliant white, her chaste snow barely covering the death beneath it. She knows her time is little, so she works in haste. She endures the antagonizing yuletide spirit, knowing it will be Venus who ultimately slay her, and then Erin who lays her to rest.