[i]Whispers. Soft, gentle, caressing whispers wound their way along the walls of the simple white room until they reached the body that lay in the center. A long, lithe body rested against the cool stone floor, shimmering white tresses splayed out about the head. It seemed it was time to wake up.[/i] 

With that realization, The Weaver's eyes opened. Where she found herself, however, wasn't what she expected. Indeed, she was still surrounded by beautiful, serene white, but it wasn't [i]her[/i] white. No, it was different. Cold, wet, crystallized. [i]Of course, Snow.[/i] Her thoughts finally registered the substance that her body was laid in, and she found herself laughing softly. How interesting. 

Whyspe looked around for a moment, but all she saw was a cloudy sky, and what seemed to be an endless snow field. She smiled, her body rising from the snow. In her hands, she grasped her tome, and about her neck rested her famed spindle. It was time to take a walk among the Humans again. She had so much knowledge to acquaint herself with, she was certain of it. 

As she trekked through the snow the whispers of choices and changes in paths resounded in her ears in a sort of low thrumming. Absently, she wove her hands through the air. Anyone who saw her would think her strange, but only because they could not see the web of time itself sprawled out before them as she could. To her, the timelines of people's choices was a vast and sprawling network. A network that she was able to interact with, and readily did so if she thought it necessary.

Unlike many of her kin, Whyspe had seen the coming of the great war, and had chosen not to take part in it. She didn't even tell her siblings, or children that it was coming. What was the point in that? No one would learn anything that way. And, how pitiful would Humanity be if they were forever trapped under a pantheon's rule? They'd never grow. Without their growth, Whyspe herself would stagnate. And she just couldn't have that, now could she?