Ladies and gentleman, this is not your standard piece. The story you're about to read is not a part of the Apples Not Included network, nor is it related at all to my own works. The characters, and the story they're taken from, belong to a dear friend of mine by the screename of WiseAbsol. A friend of mine first urged me to read Abby's The Mewtwo Trilogy some seven or eight months ago, but I passed it up because honestly I read the description and the genre and I hate that sort of thing. Vicki kept nagging, however, until I was forced to sit down and read, and... well... some authors can just make anything good, you know? Abby's world was so real that I soon forgot about my own misgivings and started loving the story, that and the other works she has up, for the wonderful emotion they had. Her characters were as though alive, and one in particular grabbed my attention- Morgan, the older sister who sacraficed everything for her twin and then lingered as a spirit to offer her further guidance. It's from the perspective of that spirit that this piece is written, a brief drabble in which I explored just how far I could take the emotions of a character that Abby portrays so beautifully, testing my own limits in the process. So sit back and enjoy this breif interlude from the ANI chaos with my Christmas present to Abby- Snow.

So let's go!

It was... snowing.

Ensconced in the shadows of a hollow tree, the non-entity raised her eyes as the first flakes fell. It didn't bother her anymore, this strangled dance between existance and non-being, this strange state of suspended spirit. Perhaps her guilt had done this to her, perhaps it was the fate of all born as she had been, she did not know. She liked to think it was an opportunity to atone, atone for the crippling of her dear, dear twin. Neva...

Her body, intangeable though it may have been, trembled.

Feelings, at least in the physical sense, had faded to nothing; taste was a distant memory, smell a shadow thereof. Only sight and sound were afforded to her now, sight, sound, and emotion. And oh, how she remembered emotion, that horrible, gut-twisting sensation when she'd realized what she had done. To have seen her sibling as a threat so early on that she had lashed out as they had remained as unborn; what could her pre-concience mind have felt that had drove it to such measures? To have lashed out before she had even been capable of thought... Oh, Neva...

Was she happy now?

She wanted her to be happy.

The snow was falling faster now.

It was times like this she missed having a body. Times like this, when the world was hushed and silent, when that single great flow of energy seemed to hold it's breath around her. The planet itself seemed to pause as though in thoughtful yearning, a silent wish to hold fast to the moment of peace. She, too, felt that yearning, the longing swelling up until she swore her heart would break. But how could it break when it had ceased to beat so long ago?

Could Neva feel it, too?

Wherever her sister was, she hoped she was finally happy. Happy... with him. If either of them deserved that sort of love, that sort of companionship, it was Neva. To have lived so long as number two, second on the list, second in life, it was only fair that she should be number one in his life, in his heart. A childishly romantic notion, she knew, but Neva deserved it after all she had been through. Really, wasn't that why she had died, so that Neva could find him, could know him? And they had found each other, she knew that. Neva had found him, or perhaps he had found her, and in that meeting Neva had finally found herself. Her dear sister, the one that she herself had doomed to a life of silence, abuse, and neglect, had finally, finally found her voice.

And wasn't that really all she wanted?

Snow was just water that had taken a newer, more beautiful form.