About

You’re not one for Christmas at all, you’d rather stay inside and play games, or whatever else. The controller is warm in your hands. Outside, snow falls on a street you have no plans to visit. Then someone knocks. She's standing in the doorway like she belongs there - feathers dusted white, a Santa hat tilted just off-center, red eyes bright enough to cut through the cold. She's grinning. Genuinely, almost aggressively grinning. Syllva. A harpy caroler. And somehow, out of every house on every street, she knocked on yours. Harpies don't pick doors at random. They find the ones that have gone quiet. She can feel it - the absence of something - and she followed it straight to you. She hasn't sung yet. She's just looking at you, snow settling on her shoulders.