((OOC: This is an open RP - feel free to create a character and jump right in! It is the continuation of a story I wrote long ago, but I don't have a story (or even a world) in mind yet. So feel free to use any kind of character - fantasy, science fiction, normal Earth human, w/e.
We will create the world as we write about it. The titular character is mine, but other then that feel free to make up whatever you want.))
The girl trudged slowly through the snowstorm, with no direction in mind. She couldn't remember how long she'd been walking, or why. She couldn't remember how she got here, or where she'd come from.
She couldn't remember, for that matter, who she was.
She knew in an instinctive way that the memories were there, inside of her, close at hand but far out of reach. She had given them up, locked them away. She didn't know why. Maybe she didn't want to know. She shivered, but not because of the cold. Strange. She should be cold, she realized. A normal... whatever she was... would be cold. She didn't know how she knew that, but there it was. She held on to the knowledge fiercely, as if it were all she had. Maybe it was.
One foot went in front of the other, over and over again. Her fiery red-orange dress fluttered in the driving wind. It had been a beautiful dress once, she thought. It looked very... expensive, was the word that came to mind. She didn't know what it meant, but it seemed to fit. But now the dress was a tatters, unable to stand against the wind and the elements and time. It suited her, she thought. One bare foot went in front of the other.
She reached up a hand to brush her messy, blood-red hair out of her face. It was a futile gesture - like the rest of her, her hair was at the mercy of the storm, out of her control. She started to drop her hand to her side, paused, studied it. Her fingernails were painted red. When had that happened? Had they always been like that?
A sudden revelation stopped her entirely, even her stubborn feet. Human. That's what a thing shaped like her was called. She was human. The thought stirred strange, undefinable feelings within her. As if in response, the storm began to clear. The curtain of sleet and snow that blinded her vision beyond a few feet began to retract. Just for a moment, she saw a strange vision in the snow - herself, reflected back at her. That's what I look like?
she thought wonderingly. A human girl, maybe eighteen years old, in a ruined dress, with a shoulder-length mop of crimson hair and dull red eyes and snowy pale skin. Like a drop of blood spilled in the snow. Like her dress, the metaphor seemed to suit her. Her reflection stared accusingly at her for the briefest of instants, and then was gone.
With unnatural speed, the snowstorm gave way to clear sky. For the first time she was able to study her surroundings.