[ Such snow isn't something Morgana has ever had to deal with before - the castle seems as good a place to take shelter as any. She feels sure it wasn't there before... but then, there is so little she can be sure of here.
Through its halls she wanders, arms about herself to conserve warmth; her fingers are ice and her dress was not made for this weather. Moving will keep her warmer, she knows well enough. Her eyes stay watchful to her surroundings, glancing at faces as she passes people and offering tentative smiles of greeting where she meets another's eye.
Part of her is looking out for Arthur, or Merlin, or other faces she has at least seen before. For proof that the people she has spoken to through the journal are truly real. But the larger part is looking out for... for a well-set fire, perhaps. Something to stave off the shivers. ]