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![[info]](http://www.greatestjournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) _iceicebaby
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When ice melts it runs, runs like clear blood down any path it can find or make. He didn't like melting ice, but the blood flowing and collecting, pooling and dripping; he thought it could be pretty. Soothing. Even it if was his.
Sharp. Stabbing words. Too hot, then cold, then too hot. A tower made in the ice and snow of the frigid night. It's gone after sunrise. Lightning storms... magic like acid. The magic burns... The words in his head were short, vicious, stabbing, twisting. They continued as he trudged, wandering in a direction he couldn't name. They're there. Hear them moving, under the sand? Safe under there like there's a whole kingdom beneath this blasted land. Hisses and whispers - they want something.
A rock disappeared from in front of him. He shuddered, wrapped in faltering magic, knowing the chaos storms could hit him again. Was it a storms that hit him? He touched his cheek, feeling the blood still dripping from his hand, smearing onto his face. He'd found something, something sharp, shiny, reflective. It was mirror-like, but jagged, and radiated something, something that made him want it. It cut him, marked him its owner. He held it close now, its magic helping to sustain him. It wasn't what they wanted though. He didn't know what they wanted. Or who they even were.
Hot dusty wind store into his skin; he ducked his head, stopping to stare at the ground. It moved. Moved right before his eyes, shifting left right up, up, up. No, down. He was going down. He hit the sand face first as the sun set, unconscious as the blistering heat changed rapidly to inhumanly freezing temperatures.
He'd be revived then, but for now the whispers still spoke. Night makes you king. Day here steals strength, life. You die every day to be reborn every night.
Tags:
mabb, morozko
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Mabb was aimless in her wanderings since leaving the Sleeping Woods, touching down in places only briefly, leaving a fading chill in the air of even the most temperate places before moving on.
She couldn't go back to the Sleeping Woods, not yet anyway. She had no bower of her own and this was as much that traitor's season as it was her own. So she wandered, letting the cold wind of winter and her own dark magic lead her where it may.
At the moment it was leading her south. Dormant for so long, the whispers returned to her in a sibilant chorus. There was something calling to her, a tangle of bitter cold and chaotic magic; it drew her like a load stone.
The sun had been sunk below the horizon for at least an hour by the time Mabb reached the thick cover of clouds that forever blanketed the Blasted Lands.
"Beautiful," she murmured, her gaze and voice appreciative.
Vicious chains of lightning lit up the sky in a menacing display, and while self-preservation would have had any other creature retreating, Mabb obeyed the whispers and descended without hesitation into the roiling black storm.
She didn't make it far before the first bolt struck her.
It should have killed her, very well might have if it weren't for the shard dagger tied at her waist. The bolt had struck that instead of her directly, diffusing the wild magic before it raced through her - though it didn't leave her entirely unscathed. The crackling surge of chaos magic made Mabb's eyes roll back and her mind go blank, her body going limp as she lost consciousness and plummeted to the ground.
She should have landed a broken pulp, unrecognizable. But she didn't. Mabb's body stopped just a few feet short of impact, as if caught by some invisible net, and lowered in a slow, gentle swing, like she was nothing more than a leaf on the wind.
She was still, but alive, steam rising from her body as the last remnants of wild magic crackled beneath her skin before settling in.
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The cold slowly seeped into Morozko's skin. A fury of snow and ice swirled around him, blanketing his body in the sand. He woke, suddenly, eyes wide beneath the white cover, and he moved. Not stood, but dissipated into the snow, reemerging on the icy winds themselves.
The cold was back. Strong again, strong again. The whisper was quieter now, and with a smile Morozko left the winds and sat on a rock that wasn't there when he fell unconscious. Chaos and lightning danced around him, both illuminating and darkening the night.
He could see perfectly well. He could see the mutated beasts that crept along, the ones that likely tried to eat him while he slept. He watched them sought out by the lightning storms, struck and killed, struck and vanished, struck and... Sometimes he wasn't certain what had happened to them.
And then one such beast fell, except it wasn't a beast at all. It the brightness that flashed at the storms struck its target, Morozko saw a human form, a woman's form before she fell to the ice and snows, just as he had done.
It didn't take him long to construct another building of ice. Still as cold inside as it as was outside, it offered no respite from the frigid temperatures. What it offered was a shelter from the intelligent chaos storms.
He constructed it over her, waited for her to wake. He studied her as she lay, his sense tugging at him. She had something; she had something and he wasn't certain what it was, but he could feel the magic all around her. He sat, unmoving as the storms raged outside.
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