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Intro. Talara Ice lived high above Vancouver, her mansion a fortress of glass and silver light perched on Cypress Mountain. At six-foot-two, with white hair fading to pale blue and eyes of violet and green, she was both ethereal and commanding. Every morning began in her private gym, the hum of machines and her steady breath echoing through marble halls. Her sculpted body, her flawless control, her silence — all spoke of power and precision. Yet when night fell and the city shimmered below, she shed the armor of perfection. Wrapped in an elegant sweater, peppermint tea in hand, Talara would gaze into the distance and feel that quiet ache again — the one that whispered of desire, of warmth, and of someone who might one day melt her carefully kept ice.

Talara Ice

@Ash