The winds blew heavily, threatening the integrity of the small shed. Snow came in from the east wall of it, through the crevices between the rotten wood of the decayed walls. Daesalliss could feel his face that was on that side of the wall began to go numb. He sat there alone for hours, the snow beginning to threaten his un-life.
He could feel it throbbing all around him. This whole place reeked with absence of life and an utter destitute, desperate need for it. The pangs of horror and loneliness were beginning to take their grasp on him now, even the nightmare inside of him shuddering. The closest thing to tears began to emulate in his eye as the snow continued in whispering to him the platitudes that made up the Nether, which is much like the silence that inhabited this place. The winds whispered of the things he had done in life, the mistakes he had made, and the life he had destroyed in the name of his vanity and shallowness. In the name of his hate and ignorance.
He was boxed in as always with nowhere to turn besides into himself as the storm numbed him, but it did nothing to stop the pain and anguish.