The Lady of Ice
Animation • Audio Drama • Poem
The tale of a wandering, winter spirit, told by the flames of Jackal’s Tavern in Bianchi's "The Midnight Hearth".
This animated adaptation of The Lady of Ice was created by second year animation students at Villa Maria College in Buffalo, NY.
Narrated by Keith Gallucci
Audio Drama directed and written by Jordan Bianchi
Class animation produced by Dilan Chrysafides and Jordan Bianchi
Music composed by Jordan Bianchi
Arranged and performed by Eddie Irvin
Class animation project created by Joshua Muntain and Jordan Bianchi
Animators: Natasha Alston • Peyton Schwab • Salem Saloman • Emmanuel Kamoche • Jay Ramos • Claudia Nero • Jacob Walek • Aramis Marquez • Emily Kostyo
Special thanks to Villa Maria College for supporting this animation project. Learn more about the class project.
-
The Lady of Ice
by Jordan Bianchi, from The Midnight Hearth, Pt. 1
***
There once were two lovers, born in lands afar,
who met as they sailed o’er the sea.
Together they crossed, led by stars, sharing hands,
ashore, he knelt down on one knee.
For so long they’d wandered, so cold and alone.
Together they’d call this their home.
One morn’ he set out, ‘fore the sun ever rose,
to gather up wood for their fires.
But ne’er did he bake from their oven again,
Ne’er could his body be found.
The sermon of marriage, she never would hear,
but still she searched desperate to find.
Leaves reddened and fell, birds flew high, sun was lost,
Hope snarled and poisoned her mind.
The snowfall came down and made silent the woods,
So she could make clear of his cries,
Frosts curled, winds whistled, the snow paid respects,
and draped a white veil o’er her eyes.
Her lantern did fade and she wept all alone,
she’d tried, and she felt her heart tear.
And once her tears froze and her fair skin had blued,
the blizzard swallowed her whole.
Come end of the year, keep far from her range,
or fear to be lost and consumed.
When the Lady of Ice mourns on a winter’s night,
blizzards stir as she weeps through her veil.
Forever she’ll wander, so cold and alone,
and mourn for the heart she called home.
But when her cold corpse tires, spent, and she calms,
The tempests ease back for the day,
She hearkens again, for her lost not yet found,
Her frozen feet move on a’gain.
PRE-PRODUCTION CONCEPT ART AND STORYBOARDS
More stories by Jordan
