It is a bit chilly for a swim, isn't it?
They say the ice remembers every soul it swallows. Now, the thaw has begun, and the memory is rising. Six frames of bone and laughter, drifting across a sea of neon sickness, reaching for a sky that has long since forgotten them. They aren't trying to escape the frozen dark fantasy landscape; they are waving you down to join the drifters. The frost doesn't bite quite as hard when you no longer have skin to feel it.
Look closely at the skeleton peeking through the smallest crack on the far rightβdoes he seem a bit more excited to see you than the others?
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