White is Cold

   With vigilance did she walk, resting within her arms a case of multiple dust vials that she had been gifted not too long ago, as she had run out of a case recently. Weiss paused for a moment, snapping the clips of the case open and reflecting within arctic pools would be a variety of hues radiating from the box. A smile curled upon her lips, but it didn't last long as another being had bumped into her. 

   Weiss Schnee, an heiress who could get anything that she desired. Well, almost. 

   Cadaverous fingers who wrap themselves against the silver hilt, its touch was cold, yet it did not bother her. With grace did she pull it from her side, holding it up to allow the other to view the simple, yet powerful weapon. 

   “Myrtenaster.” Out of everything materialistic that she had been bestowed unto throughout her life, the rapier was the one she would choose for this answer, “It is essential, for without it I wouldn't be able to achieve my goal as a Huntress.” Determined intonation drenched her words, as if nothing would be able to convince her to say otherwise.  She had trained with the rapier for years, and she had turned into a capable fighter with it. It had lead her to Beacon, and to team RWBY as well.

   Ivory heels would take long and gradual strides, while the heiress nearly lost herself within her thoughts, before having her attention seized by a voice of absolute familiarity.

   Too familiar.