Fragments [FZT | closed]

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Strange how night seemed so comforting when one was lost in their own dark thoughts. Aerynn wandered the streets of Traverse Town, taking in the sights and sounds of a city that never slept. A strange trait, but she supposed it was understandable when the night was endless.

She had visited this town a few times before—it was not new territory to her—and so she was familiar with the shops and corridors that wound their way in a seamless loop. She was also familiar with its history, listening to the gossip and rumours that its residents were so keen on sharing. Despite its young age, of all the worlds Aerynn had visited she considered Traverse Town to have one of the richest histories of all. Here was a world built upon the fragments of lost hearts—it had a piece of everything; its foundations and structures mismatched but strong and sturdy. It must have been fate that once again Aerynn found herself ambling its cobblestone streets, in a place that only appeared to those who needed it.

The aegyl knew that parts of her soul had been taken from her, an ironic consequence of summoning Yarhi for her own protection on the world of Ivalice, the world she once called home. When the auraliths that housed her people's souls had been destroyed by Llyud and his party, the remaining aegyls believed that the anima of their souls, the part that held their emotions, had been returned to them. But time passed, and the aegyls were just as unfeeling as they always had been. They began doubting themselves, wondering if their souls had not been returned, and if what was lost was lost forever.

Aerynn did not want to believe it. After everything that had happened, she could not accept the idea that her soul would never be whole again. And so she left in search of these scattered fragments, realizing she had exhausted her resources on Ivalice and curious that she might glean information on worlds unexplored. Thus far she had come up with nothing; Aerynn was no closer than she was when she first left. Two years had passed in search of a part of herself she might never find, and yet, she had not given up hope.

There had to be something more to it, a piece of the puzzle that she was not connecting. She would find it, if she had to spend the rest of her life searching.

The aegyl looked to the sky, wondering which of those shining stars held the answer for her, and watched as one gave a twinkle and faded from view.

Or perhaps she was too late.

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Elsa couldn't bare to look. She knew the moment she stumbled through the dark corridor that the sky would reflect the devastation she'd just narrowly escaped. Devastation wrought by her own hands. Her fingers were still laced with melting ice that dribbled down to her fingertips and onto the cobblestone alleyway. To those passing her on the street, it would look as though she'd just dunked her hands into one of the fountains around town or left the house without drying her hands properly. But to her, the droplets of crystal clear water were more like the bloody evidence of her handiwork. The handiwork that had just extinguished a star from the night sky.

She collapsed onto her knees, her wet hands slapping against the stone. Little rivers made intricate patterns across her skin before sliding off her knuckles and into the crevices on the road.

Why? she asked herself. Why am I doing this...? How is this helping me find Anna, find Arendelle?

She let her weight shift into her legs. She pulled her hands away from the cobblestone and turned them, staring down at her soaked palms, a look somewhere between disappointment in herself and deep-rooted confusion playing across her young face. Her fingers curled into fists. People stopped and stared at her as they walked by, surprised by the regal figure they found there, bent over in an alleyway off the main square of Traverse Town.

This can't be right... this is everything I've tried so hard NOT to do...!

Her fists flew to her head, fingers sprawling out across her hair as she took hold. She crumpled in on herself, fighting to keep the tears that tried to well in her eyes at bay. People seemed alarmed, and she could hear their voices, strained with concern, as they pointed her out to others. Some even suggested calling for help. As if anyone could help her. As if anything any of these people were capable of could undo what she'd done.

As if any of them could scrub away the guilt that clogged her heart.

She'd lost count of how many stars she'd shot out of the sky.

It hadn't always been like this. At the beginning, when she'd been wide-eyed and naive, sent off on her mission to 'protect the worlds from the Darkness,' she'd believed in the legitimacy of her task. She'd believed that her ice, for the first time in her life, might actually bring some good to the world -- worlds, she corrected herself. She'd learned so much about the universe in such a short time that it still strangled her vocabulary. She'd believed that Xehanort's promise had been genuine, that her work would eventually reward her with what we really wanted: a way home.

The first star faded to her surprise. Disappeared from the sky without a trace. Then another. And another. Until she'd realized what was happening. Realized the connection between her 'handiwork' and the slow, systematic deconstruction of the heavens above. Realized, more than once, that her monstrous nature was still alive and well in her inner storm.

Realized that it was ripping her apart, slowly, carefully, painfully, from the inside-out.

So much so that, sometimes, she could have sworn she felt something else stir in the depths of her heart. Something deep within. Something dark.

And now she was here, crumpled in on herself, as yet another world faded from existence. As people once again gathered around her like visitors at a zoo, asking questions about her but never to her, as if she was just some beast on display. As ice tingled at the tips of her toes, threatening to flee her body and start its destructive invasion anew.

As she screwed shut her eyes and prayed for it all to stop.

She just wanted to go home.

Was that too much for a girl to ask?

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There was a commotion in the square.

It was hard not to notice, with the flurry of voices and the apprehension that lay a thick veil over the streets of Traverse Town. Aerynn turned to watch, her ears picking up the sounds of distress that reached her. It may have been her imagination, brought on by the murmurs and whispers of the townsfolk, but the aegyl felt a sudden chill run up her spine; her skin pebbled up, and the feathers of her wings fluffed. It was as though the temperature of the evening air had suddenly dropped.

She was standing amidst the staircases. On one side was the accessory shop and above it, the moogles' synthesis shop, and on the other side was what Aerynn supposed was nothing more than residency. She peered out to the main square of the First District, catching a figure of white and blue surrounded by the refugees of Traverse Town. There was something strange about the scene, something that didn't sit right with her. Amongst her travels, Aerynn had learned of the collapse of worlds, and the few citizens that survived the fall to darkness. If this figure was anything like the residents of Traverse Town, there would have been no reason for such a commotion. Most would have carried on about their lives, excepting the few that were kind enough to offer sympathy and compassion, but those few were far between. None had offered it to Aerynn when she first arrived at Traverse Town's doorsteps, but then, her world hadn't been destroyed.

She had seen though, sitting at the café, enjoying a coffee and scone, people appear out of thin air, dazed and confused and alarmed. She had watched them stumble about, wonder where they were, how they had come to be, before targeting the first passerby to answer their questions. Even then, most turned away, unable to speak to them, unable to confirm their worst nightmares, unable to relive it themselves.

But there was something different about this figure in the square, something that cast fear in the hearts of men.

Curiosity was a strange thing. Aerynn realized it now, as she strolled down the staircase and made her way into the throng. What was this feeling that compelled her to look, to insert herself in a situation where she was unneeded and unwanted, if nothing more than to satisfy an urge that tickled her heart like an itch. The story was the same—it was always the same. A world had fallen to darkness, Traverse Town found itself a new refuge, and yet Aerynn still wanted to see.

She shouldered her way through the crowd, short in stature but holding a commanding presence about her. The people parted, turning their heads and backing away when they discovered the formidable size of her wings. Aerynn stopped when she broke through the masses, though there was no change in expression when she discovered the regal figure collapsed and broken before her. It was a woman, a few years older than herself. Her hair was in shambles, and the cobblestones before her damp and glistening. Too much for tears alone. Aerynn wondered if she had come from a world of rain or water, but her clothing was dry, her hair as well. Her hands, however, were wet and shining.

Through the murmurs of the crowd, Aerynn heard a distinct crackle. At the woman's feet a sheen of ice was beginning to grow. An elemental then, and she was throwing a tantrum.

Aerynn had seen it before, in people who were strong enough to survive their world's collapse, but too weak to bear the weight of the repercussions. Those were the ones that snapped, that lashed out, that wrought destruction until their woes or their life was put to rest.

The aegyl's eyes flitted to the side, glancing at the crowd as they gave a collective gasp. The murmurs increased and every one of them took a step back. Some departed completely, ushering children along with them. They had seen. Aerynn was left standing before the woman, alone and vulnerable. She realized the danger just as well as everyone else, and yet, she was more curious than afraid. Curious at how these events had transpired, how she found herself at Traverse Town's doorsteps and before she had even made it through the First District she found her life in jeopardy.

Curiosity. What a strange and dangerous thing to bear.

The ice was spreading.

Aerynn realized with a solemn thought that she was the only one standing between this woman on the verge of a breakdown and the lives of those who called Traverse Town their home. The aegyl stepped forward, lowering the deadly blade of her naginata and pressing it against the woman's throat. Then, through her silken scarf, she uttered a single command.

"Stop."

It was the best thing Aerynn could think of that would get the woman's attention, that would break her from the spell. If she tried to attack, the aegyl would slit her throat, and the threat would be over and done with. One less berserk elementalist to deal with, and one life was not worth so many. If the woman was wise, she'd back down, calm herself, let her frost dissipate and fade.

But that was what Aerynn's logical mind figured. She did not have the burden of emotions to cloud her judgment and actions.

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As if in response to her question, Elsa felt something cool and sharp press against her throat. Her eyes widened. She sat, hunched over and frozen, as fear leaked even more ice from her feet, only encouraging its encroachment. She hardly dared to breathe. Every little movement bumped the blade against her skin. She couldn't even see her assailant, couldn't see who it was who, amongst the crowd of gathered and shocked onlookers, had stood forward and decided that she needed dealing with. Not that they were wrong. It was about time someone stood up to her ridiculous powers, demanded she stop. Made her stand trial for her heinous crimes.

"Stop," said the voice. Cool, controlled, calculated. A female's voice.

"Wait," said Elsa, her head hung over the blade. Every inch of her screamed to back away, to get up and run. "W- Wait... please. It'll stop in a moment, I just--"

Just what? Just turn it off, like a facet? What exactly could she promise this woman, whose blade at her throat only made her fear worse? She hadn't even realized that ice had escaped her soles until now. The tingling she'd felt in her toes had betrayed her -- she thought she'd been holding it in, when in the end, all she'd felt was the rush of her powers from her body. The cobblestones beneath her were gone, replaced with a thin sheet of ice that was already creeping into the open square. And she had to stop it, or else this woman would most likely do it for her.

"--I just need some time to..."

Elsa closed her eyes, abandoning her voice. She forced her thoughts back to Arendelle, back to Anna. To the day she's spent with her sister after she'd defrosted herself on the fjord. She tried to remember the skating rink she and Anna had spent hours on, spinning and twirling around each other, and the chocolate fountain they'd spent dinner around, dipping fruit and biscuits into with synchronized giggles. She tried to remember the warm embraces they'd shared on the upturned ships, the overpowering relief she'd felt at Anna bringing herself back to life from her curse, the sense of satisfaction at watching Prince Hans sail away to his imprisonment for his attempts at overtaking her kingdom.

She heard the low groaning of her ice in the distance.

It continued to advance upon the square.

It wasn't working. It wasn't going to stop.

Elsa's eyes stretched to their widest extent. She had to do something. She had to pull it back, or cover it up, or... or escape.

She lifted her head, slowly, away from the blade, just enough that the strip of metal no longer rested against her throat. Just enough that she caught a glimpse of her captor's face for the first time. It was a young woman -- younger than she'd expected, given the demanding tone -- who stood perfectly still, her weapon clutched in an iron grip, with great black wings folded at her back. She certainly hadn't been expecting that. It would be hard to outrun someone who could fly.

So much for escape.

So much for stopping her ice.

"Please," she said, looking up at the girl. "I know it looks bad, but I'm not trying to hurt anyone... in fact, that's the last thing I want to do. Please, you have to believe me... I just... I just need to get out of here, away from here..."

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With her blade pressed against the woman's throat, Aerynn knew she had the advantage, and it was clear the woman knew too. The aegyl stood stock still, never wavering as she listened to the elementalist's words, which were nothing more than stutters of fear and empty promises that she could control the power leaking out of her. The woman was delirious. Aerynn knew, because she could feel the weight against her naginata when the woman leaned in, pressing her throat against the sharp blade as if to remind herself it was there and the dominance Aerynn held over her. As if that was enough to will her power under control.

But when their eyes locked, Aerynn could see her words were sincere. She was trying, evidenced by the struggle within, and she had made no move to attack or defend herself. She just simply couldn't control her power. The aegyl fought the urge to shiver—the temperature around them was still dropping—lest the tremor traverse down to her blade and nick the woman's throat. Her feathers rustled and that was all. With a quick glance at the spectators surrounding Aerynn discovered that most had departed, although there were still a few who lingered, curious at the outcome of this precarious situation.

Despite the elementalist's best efforts, the ice was still spreading. It had nearly reached Aerynn's feet. Turning once more to the woman before her, the aegyl considered her options. Slit her throat and be done with her, or let her continue to flounder at her pathetic attempts of control, before the ice finally broke free. It was clear there was a certain kind of potential there, and Aerynn would not have been surprised if this woman had the ability to coat the entire city in a thick sheen of ice, and with it, everyone within its gates.

She was trying, though. What right did Aerynn have to take a life whose intentions were pure?

In one fluid motion, the aegyl removed the blade at the woman's throat, twirled the weapon around, and struck her head as hard as she could with the wooden haft.

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Elsa failed to notice the dispersing crowd, the dropping temperatures and the way her captor's eyes swept over her, examining her. Judging her. Deciding her fate. The Snow Queen only knelt in place, her neck aligned with the girl's blade, waiting. Trying desperately to reel in the ice that was still pouring uncontrollably from her pores, creeping, crunching, crackling forward towards the rest of the town with every passing moment. She didn't even realize that the ruffling of the girl's feathers had anything to do with her wayward magic.

She did, however, notice when the blade slipped away from her throat.

Elsa raised her head, eyes meeting with that of the girl's for a second time. The sword twirled through the girl's fingers, the sound of swishing metal drowning out the low groans of her ice. She watched as the blade came to a stop in the girl's hand. Her captor's arm reached back, the butt of the sword aimed at the side of her head.

Elsa's eyes widened. The ice beneath her feet made a sickening crunch.

"Wa-- no--!"

Spikes of ice shot upwards from the tiny pool that had formed itself around Elsa, throwing haphazard and dagger-sharp defences over the crumpled woman.

The heavy wood collided with her head.

Her defences, built in record time out of fear and raw instinct, had not been accurate enough to block the attack. It hadn't even been her that'd done it -- the magic had moved on its own, in a last-ditch effort to protect her.

Her vision went black. Her ears rang. She felt weightless, as though all the effort it had taken to hold herself over the blade had suddenly been released. As if all the burdens that rested on her shoulders had tumbled off, dragging her down with them. She vaguely sensed herself falling, the ground rising up to meet her.

By the time she landed, curled into a fetal position, all consciousness had faded.

The Snow Queen lay motionless on the road, her world one of complete darkness.

...Not unlike the stars she'd wiped out of the sky.


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Powers Used:

Flurry: Used outside of battle (ie. for plot purposes). Condition: Unstable. Purpose: Self-protection. Duration: N/A. Cooldown: N/A.

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The attack was sudden and shocking, but it was not enough to stop Aerynn's own. Between the shards of ice that had leapt forward, the haft of Aerynn's naginata struck the elementalist's head hard and true. Those blue eyes, so bright and vibrant and glistening with tears, rolled back into their sockets as the woman collapsed in a crumpled heap. Aerynn felt no remorse.

Her shoulder ached and her cheek stung. The aegyl took a moment to collect herself, finding that she had been pinned between two huge cones of ice. On her right side her cheek had been slashed, and she could feel the blood oozing from the wound, melting the ice that was set against her head. Any closer and she would have been dead. The other shard had struck true, embedding itself into Aerynn's left shoulder. Her arm hung limp at her side. Her weapon dropped, the wood and metal making a reverberating clatter before she grasped the cone with her right hand and pushed herself free. She had to stand on her toes to do it.

She placed her hand over her shoulder, trying to quell the blood that poured from her gaping wound, but it was not enough. Collapsing to the ground, Aerynn removed the gauntlet from her useless hand and began unwrapping the cloth around her forearm. Setting one end in her teeth, she made herself a makeshift bandage, wrapping the cloth over her shoulder and tying it tight. It was a rough job, but it would suffice. Aerynn could feel dampness spread, and already there was a pinkish tinge to the fabric. No one had moved to help her.

Her breath came quick and short as she tried to suppress the pain. The ice was melting; the chill that had laid a veil over the district dissipated. Though she had made a foolish move, it was enough for the danger to have passed, but the threat was not over.

The winged girl knew something had to be done before the elementalist woke and returned to her panicked state. They needed a calm atmosphere, away from the prying eyes of passersby, where Aerynn could explain the circumstances of her arrival and what it meant to move forward with her life. No, the threat was far from over, and Aerynn understood she had willingly thrown herself into the lion's den. It was a choice she had made the moment she let her curiosity get the better of her, the moment she placed her first step towards the throng.

Gathering her weapon and her gauntlet, Aeynn stood on shaky legs, before she squeezed between the ice shards towards where the woman lay. It was difficult with only one arm, but somehow she managed to lift the regal presence from the ground, laying her over her good shoulder. The elementalist's arms dangled behind her, the fabric of her dress brushing against the skin of Aerynn's back. Her face was caught in a mess of feathers, but there was nothing to help that. With a hefty grunt, Aerynn stood, wobbled a bit, then turned towards the Second District doors and began the long walk towards the hotel. The people who had lingered parted as Aerynn made her egress from the scene, the aegyl paying no mind to the stares and murmurs that followed her.

The trek was uneventful, although Aerynn was quite tired carrying a fully grown woman as she made her way into the hotel lobby. Someone was manning the counter, a young girl no older than Aerynn herself, who raised an eyebrow at the sight of a bloody girl with wings carrying what looked like a queen.

Aerynn said nothing, only deposited the fare for one room for the night. Unless the hostess asked, there was no reason to give a reason for their visit.

She underestimated the girl's curiosity. 

"Are you okay?" the hostess asked, her brow furrowing. She leaned her head to get a better look at the woman draped over Aerynn's shoulder. "Is she okay?"

"Yes," Aerynn said and nothing more. She did not have the patience or the time to explain the circumstances of their arrival. The girl's furrowed brow deepened, her lips drawing into a thin line. Still Aerynn said nothing. Let the girl come to her own conclusions. After a tense moment the hostess produced a key, though her hand lingered over it before she allowed the aegyl to take it.

"Room 123," the girl said.

Aerynn turned and left.

It was a quaint room, too small for Aerynn's tastes, but it was all that was offered and that was good enough for her. There was nothing special about it: there was a dresser, a table and chairs, windows large with the curtains drawn and a sizable bed set in the corner. That was Aerynn's first destination. Once the regal had been rightly deposited with little concern for her comfort, Aerynn flexed her good shoulder and stretched her wing, until at least some feeling had returned. Her left arm, however, still hung useless at her side.

Gazing upon her new charge, now splayed on top of the mattress, Aerynn wondered where she had come from and how she had come to be. The aegyl had encountered elementals before, but there was something different about this woman, she who dressed like a queen yet had no experience in controlling her talent. She was pretty, there was no denying that, even with the growing lump on the side of her head. Aerynn did not envy the headache she'd awaken with, but perhaps it would be enough to distract her from the power that surged within.

Still, Aerynn reached into her messenger bag and retrieved a potion, setting it on the nightstand beside the bed. No thought crossed her mind that she might use it for herself, despite the severity of her injury. She only had the one and it was the least she could do, considering she was the one who had gifted the elementalist with a migraine fit to stop a giant in his tracks.

The woman had yet to stir, and so Aerynn busied herself by making the room a bit more comfortable for both parties. Throwing aside the curtains, she opened the windows as far as they could go. The cool night air rushed in, ruffling her feathers and soothing the tension that had settled between the aegyl's shoulder blades. She must have misjudged the effort it had cost to carry her all this way, coupled with the pain that never stopped to lance down her arm. That done, Aerynn stumbled to the coffee maker, staring with a blank expression at the strange contraption. Being of a rather primitive race, Aerynn was unused to technology, but she had seen people work these things before and she figured they were easy enough for her own limitations. There was the coffee grounds sealed in a green little packet, but where was the water supposed to go, and how did one even turn it on?

She wiped her cheek with her arm, smearing blood across her wrappings and began her most difficult fight ever. As she struggled with the machine, she was unaware of the elementalist beginning to rouse….

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DATA TAGS. Next~! WORDS. 503 NOTES. Divine intervention is such a strong assumption...

to the soldier, the civilian, the martyr, the victim. THIS IS WAR Light, casual steps carried the proud woman through the streets. She carried herself with great strength: her chest out and head up, a fearless aura filled with a hundred lifetimes of experience. Even as she stepped not a sound rumbled from her heeled boots, the woman wearing a casual outfit, seeming almost out of place with the elegance that radiated off her. Pink tresses framed her face, a longer tail of the hair hung languidly over her left shoulder. A pink, off the shoulder neck sweater. The top was long enough that it hung just over her knees, the black tights she wore hidden by her knee high boots. The casual face of the warrior was a necessary guise to walk among the people without creating an unnecessary stir and needless stares. During times of peace, this was best, but it seemed this was not to last. A panic had drawn a number of people together into a crowd. The Valkyrie slowly paced around the outer edge of the gathered, word of some battle that had ensued. At first the rose-haired warrior considered the possibility of the Chaos Shadows, these beings having a habit to appear when the heart is at its weakest. She did not know enough about them, only that they were the most harmful state of Chaos one could come across. Her blue eyes traveled along the crowd, ears listening to the words of fear that fluttered from their lips. From what she could gather, someone had come through one of the Dark Corridors. To Light these Dark Corridors were twists of Chaos, much unlike the time gates: but very similar. They connected worlds. And though they were alway there, something had forced them to open and lead the unsuspecting across the vast reaches of space. Light’s head rose when there was mention of the direction the strange, winged creature had taken the woman garbed in blue. They battled fiercely, ice and blade threatening to pierce the other. The descriptions were vague, at best, but the direction they had gone, was enough for her to get a start. Rumors were never something to follow or believe. People had a habit of seeing things how they wished to see them. Sometimes the truth was simply black and white. With her heading the warrior made their way toward the District they were headed toward. What intrigued Light was not so much the battle, but the Corridor. She has seen many enter them, but she has never seen a person come back. She had questions. They perhaps had answers, had they not killed each other. She was naturally gifted when it came using the time gates. She was, after all, blessed with the powers of God, but the Corridors were very different. She could not control them, nor could she use them. It was a good opportunity to learn. To learn though, the warrior would need to find them. She would eventually make her way to the inn. She approached the main counter.

template by darkee of btn.

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Consciousness returned slowly to Elsa. Her eyes flickered once, twice, barely opening but moving. Her muscles came to life in short, awkward waves, her arms twitching and then her legs, as if her brain was running tests to see which limbs were still intact, perhaps expecting the worst. Her head pounded. She vaguely remembered the haft of the winged girl's weapon come down hard on her from the side, exactly where the heart of the pain was pulsating now.

Thump, thump, thump.

Every beat of the drum sent agony across her entire body in torturous waves.

She moaned. The sound barely escaped her lips. Aerynn would be lucky to hear it, if it ever managed to escape the confines of the lush pillows that cushioned her face. She shifted on the bed, relishing the soft embrace of the mattress around her sprawled figure. She pulled her arms together and rested them under the pillow as she tried to force her eyes open. Lifting her eyelids, however, proved to be a near impossible task. Every time she tried, light blinded her and only worsened her headache. She screwed her eyes shut again. The side of her head beat furiously, driving her deeper and deeper into the pillows.

She lay there for another while, hoping that the pain in her head might die down with time, her limbs still sprawled across the bed and her face buried in the pillows. She could vaguely sense the difference between the cushioned mattress beneath one foot and the course material of her glitter cape laying atop the other. Her hand was wet -- she'd realized that a few minutes after dragging it into place beneath her pillow -- but it couldn't still be wet because of her ice. She didn't know how long she'd been laying there, out cold on the bed, but surely it would have dried naturally by now.

Elsa brought her hand out from under the pillow and held it weakly before her face. She forced one eye open, just a crack.

She shrieked. Bright crimson blood had painted her hand red. She shot up into a sitting position, her other hand, blood-free clutching its twin. Her eyes grew wide. Ice crept out of her feet and froze the edge of her mattress, as well as two of the four posters that held up the bed.

She touched the side of her head gingerly. It throbbed painfully at her touch, but her finger returned unpainted. She threw her eyes down to the rest of her body. Blood smeared the front of her crystal-blue gown, and erratic trails of it stained the posh bedsheets upon which she'd lain. There were no cuts on her skin, no tears in the fabric of her gown to indicate any tell-tale wounds from which her blood might be leaking. She looked back at her bloodied hand, more confused than ever. Her hand was shaking. She clasped it with the other and held them both against her chest. The ice stopped as she regained a little control over herself.

It wasn't her blood.

So then who's was it?

She looked up and only then noticed the winged girl on the other side of the room.

Elsa exhaled sharply. She supposed she should have expected that. How else would she be in a bed, when she'd been knocked unconscious in the middle of the street? The girl must have brought her here, to... what she could only assume was some sort of inn. She made a quick scan of the room: it was plain, with little furniture and only a small table circled by several plain wooden chairs. The door to the hallway was closed and the windows behind her were open. She could feel the breeze against her bare skin, smell the freshness of the air beyond their thresholds.

The girl was standing by the table, her body turned away from Elsa. She was staring at a small red machine. Beside it, little green packets and a series of plain, white porcelain cups adorned a shiny black tray with handles on either side. She seemed unsure what she was doing with the contraption, and Elsa couldn't blame her -- no such technology existed in Arendelle either.

It was likely the girl had heard her chorus of gasps, shrieks and moans from earlier, and so Elsa was under no illusion that the girl still believed that she was asleep. No, in fact, Elsa was quite sure that the girl must be well aware of her slow, drawn-out return to the world of the living. So Elsa took her chance, while the girl's back was turned, to sweep her eyes over the other woman. Her eyes froze when they found the puncture wound in her cheek, and again on the long, deep gash across her left arm, which hung, clearly immobile, at her side.

Both injuries -- particularly the perfectly round hole in her cheek -- bore the trademark frost that could only mean one thing.

She had attacked her assailant once she'd lost consciousness.

Elsa's whole body seized up. Her chest constricted painfully, threatening to crush her heart out of fear. Panicked thoughts ran through her head. Why had the girl attacked her? She had only been trying to control her powers, she must have made that clear... had she been sent by someone? Had someone figured out that it had been her who was responsible for the stars going out, for the mass-freezing of the worlds? Had they sent this girl to capture her? Interrogate her? ... Worse?

Still, a pang of guilt struck Elsa's heart as her eyes resettled on the tell-tale wounds. She clutched her bloody hands to her chest and gazed down at the edge of the bed, where ice had gathered and built up, no doubt having snuck out of her while she'd been contemplating her fate.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you," she said in a low voice. It was as much as she could muster above her fear and her guilt. "What... what do you intend to do with me?"

[Deleted]

Aerynn thought she had the coffee machine mostly figured out. There was the compartment for water, which Aerynn had filled, and there was a removable basket in which she was sure the coffee grounds were to go. She had torn the packet with her teeth and emptied the contents in the basket, then closed the lid. Her eyes studied the contraption, trying to figure out the switch that actually made the coffee.

There was a shriek. Aerynn lifted her head, but that was all. It was clear the woman had awoken, and was probably none too pleased about her situation—in a strange room with the girl who had attacked her and blood covering her dress. She was panicking; Aerynn could hear the ice crystallizing on the bed. It probably would have behooved the aegyl to turn and address the woman, ease her fears and let her know she was in good hands, lest her ice encroach upon the entire room and freeze Aerynn there forever. The aegyl's head turned a fraction of an inch, her eyes settling in their corners, tempted to look, but she was so close to getting the coffee made.

Aerynn turned back to the machine.

There. A button with the word "Brew" sitting atop it. How had she missed that? Probably because the world around her was fuzzy and muddled. Aerynn extended her index finger and reached out to press the button.

She missed.

She tried again. This time the machine turned on.

The battle won, Aerynn turned her attention to the woman on the bed. She was watching her, gauging her injuries and understanding it was she who had caused them. She looked distressed, but not in a sense of fear and apprehension. Yes, they were there, but they were overshadowed by what seemed like a form of guilt, her arms clutched close to her chest, her knees curled against her body, trying to make herself as small as possible.

Did she feel bad about the state of Aerynn's injuries? That was interesting, considering it was not her fault her spell had been wrought out of instinct and not of her control. Aerynn knew this and she had accepted it. If the aegyl had trouble reading her own emotions, at least she she knew how to read others. She remembered when the haft of her naginata came down, the shock and fear in the woman's eyes before the shards of ice had leapt from the ground. Had the defense been intentional, her eyes would have betrayed a different emotion.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you," the woman said, avoiding Aerynn's gaze, turning instead to watch the ice that had frozen the edge of the bed. "What…" She hesitated. "What do you intend to do with me?"

"Nothing," Aerynn said. She did not elaborate, leaving the woman to take her word for what it was. Whether or not she would trust this strange girl that stood before her would be of her own accord. This winged and bloodied girl who had taken it upon herself to quiet that uncontrollable power when it was most needed and lead her to a place of sanctuary—if she believed Aerynn's intentions were good. The aegyl had no desire to sway her opinion one way or the other. She was not looking for a friend; her job was finished. The elementalist had control over her power … for the most part.

She realized she was putting a lot of trust in the woman's capability to remain calm. Aerynn understood full well that she would eventually breach the topic of worlds collapsed by darkness, but if Aerynn was cool and collected, surely this woman would follow suit. The aegyl's naginata rested against the wall, but even if it was in her hand she didn't think she had the ability to stop whatever storm brewed at the realization that everything the elementalist knew and cared for was gone. Aerynn was too weak and tired, and she did not want to fight.

"There's a potion on the nightstand," the aegyl said. She had heard the moans and groans before the shriek, but she had been too absorbed in making coffee to assist in the elementalist's awakening. Not that she would have known what to do other than stand over her and watch. Still, she understood her assumption had been correct that she would wake with the headache of a lifetime. Perhaps it might help in getting the woman to trust her, but that had not been Aerynn's intent.

And that was it. Aerynn said nothing more. There was no need to. Yes, she had accepted the fact that it would be she who would explain that this woman's world was destroyed, which had the potential to set off a whole new storm of ice, but if anyone was to die, it would be Aerynn and no one else.

[Deleted]

DATA TAGS. Next~! WORDS. 693 NOTES. I live now, perhaps I will learn to live again for the morrow.

to the soldier, the civilian, the martyr, the victim. THIS IS WAR Lightning's presence was a bit more welcomed than what the young girl had to deal with but moments before. Light carried a soft smile on her face, relaxed and in a calm state, but it was a false state. The current Light was an empty doll who was out to investigate amidst the pull of her duties to Bhunivelze. A hiccup along the twisting trails of time and space, holding to her duties, begrudgingly. Missing time was no linger an issue, so it gave the servant reprieve from Bhunivelze's demands to learn of these spawns of chaos firsthand. She was not expecting to find anything substantial on the situation. With nothing more than the vague clues she had learned among the whispers of the crowds, the warrior was left with little choice but to do reconnaissance. Light took great care to consider what it was needed to do to get the information she wanted. These Dark Corridors were what not only connected worlds, but led these chaotic being's strange abilities to cross them. She had a desire to understand these creatures formed of, what to her, seemed like pure chaos. Writhing beasts that fed on humans were not something to allowed to hold a continued existence in the world. She could not touch the Dark Corridors, and it was an irksome complication. It could be her power interfering with the portals, or something, perhaps, in her heart. Whatever it was: she was going to find out. Though stoic in her manners Lightning was not without emotion, her face still drawing expressions upon her face: clear responses to her environment. A smirk where necessary, a polite nod when required, but it all seemed so mechanical to the knight, as if it was simply what she had always done. She was growing closer to the mystery of herself and what it was she was capable of, but what she desired still hung in the balance and forced her to risk everything to obtain that which she fought desperately for. She would strike any that got in her way, down. No remorse. "Has anyone strange come by today?" Her soft voice pulled the strength of her nature outward, dominating the air. The young woman stared at Light, her words rather confusing considering the rose-haired woman seemed a bit odd herself. The woman brushed back her tail of pink hair that hung over her shoulder, back. A tick, was this action, the staring eyes making her feel rather out of place, but wasn't she? After accepting that simple question as positive, she relaxed. Shaking her head she took a breath to clear her mind to express her words. It was probably best to describe what it was she had heard, trying her best not to turn this into some deceitful game of telephone. "Two individuals, one with wings and the other wearing a dress." Light had hoped that was enough seeing as, besides the Moogles she has seen floating around, no others seemed to dawn wings as a common fashion statement. It seemed there was reluctant confirmation as the young woman standing behind the counter parted her mouth, only for the to turn their heads away at recalling the dreadfully awkward scene that had played out before them but moments ago. There were about ninety-nine things she could take from that instance, and friendship wasn't one of them. Nodding she would indicate the suspicious couple had gone to room 123, offering Light a warning. It seemed those two: liked it rough. Light stared at the girl's strange, offhand comment. It was not until Light made it to the end of the hall that her mind wrapped around the suggestion. She seemed a bit taken aback, at first, but she quickly brushed off the troubling ideas to surface by logically admitting toward the simple fact they had been amidst combat. Solidified in her resolve the Warrior of God raised her hand to the door and gave a vigorous knock. Dressed casually she looked like anything but threatening, but her aura was intense. Like a beast constantly searching for conflict, the natural confidence of a soldier trained into her.

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[Deleted]

"Nothing."

That was all her captor said in response to her question, in response to Elsa's need to know what would become of her.

Nothing.

What, then, had been the point? Why go to all the trouble of knocking her out and bringing her here? The only people she'd met on this journey of hers so far all seemed to want her for something: her powers, her political status, her looks. Surely this girl was no different. Elsa hadn't exactly made the best of efforts to keep her powers concealed on the streets, hunched over in the alleyway, berating herself for her foolishness and her naivety as ice crawled across the town in thick sheets, completely unable to stop it. The girl must have seen her powers and realized her potential. No doubt she, too, intended to take advantage of Elsa's unique abilities...? Just like everyone else...

What was it that the girl had demanded of her back on the streets?

She tried to remember. Her memories of cobblestone roads covered in frost were blurred and hazy, colours pulsing in rhythm with the pain in her head. Slowly, agonizingly, she tried searching the images for clues... she remembered the sky, and the dimming of its latest starry victim. She remembered the girl's shoes, the cool tip of a blade against her neck. And words -- muffled words -- reaching her ears, only fear was drowning them out. She screwed her eyes shut, trying to force herself back into the moment...

Her head only pulsed even more painfully. She moaned, clutching herself tighter.

"There's a potion on the nightstand," said the girl.

Elsa swivelled her head -- she regretted the motion instantly as what felt like a knife plunging into her temples rewarded her for her speed -- and took notice of the slender bottle stood upright on the table beside the bed. Clear liquid bubbled peacefully behind brilliant green glass, the label on its front reading: 'One (1x) Standard Potion -- Your Everyday Cure-all!' in bright, curved letters. The colours almost forced Elsa to squint. She peeled her eyes away from it and back to the girl, gaze questioning.

Was the potion really a potion?

She almost cringed at her own question. It wasn't like her to doubt others. Doubt herself, sure, but... well, given what had happened, perhaps a bit of caution was appropriate. The girl had put a blade to her throat, after all. Not that she didn't deserve it... she wished that the blow had knocked the sins, as well as the girl's words, out of her as well.

The winged girl continued to stare at her. The hum of the machine behind her filled the silence between them, enveloping the room.

Elsa's eyes drifted away from her captor's. The girl had a rather emotionless stare -- or if it carried any emotion, Elsa couldn't tell what it was. It was only stoic and persistent in its gaze, locked onto Elsa's curled frame with pinpoint precision. Watching. Judging. Making assumptions, no doubt, of the Snow Queen's reactions, her decisions... her sanity, perhaps.

Once again, Elsa couldn't blame her. The ice that now decorated the four-poster bed, though stagnant, shone brilliantly with the dim light from the windows, exhibiting its frigid power. Exhibiting her. Exhibiting the threat she represented to this world and all others.

Her head ached. She groaned as the next wave of pain sent her into a nauseating spell of dizziness. She was lucky that she was already seated atop the bed, else she was sure she would have fallen over, or collapsed, had she been standing. Instead, she leaned back against the backrest of the bed, finally forced to relinquish her arms so that she could grasp at her forehead with her hands. It didn't help. She ran her hands through her hair, hoping, if anything, that it would distract her from the pain.

It didn't.

Her hands became claws at her fingers found her braid. She nearly tore the thick, woven tendrils apart as her forehead pulsed yet again. She bit her lip as her head fell back against the wall, only adding to her misery. Unconsciously, her eyes must have drifted back to the bottled potion on the nightstand, because before she knew what she was doing, her hands had pulled the cork from the neck of the bottle and the cool, sweet liquid was flowing like a waterfall down her throat. She had almost finished the bottle when she remembered the red on the girl's cheek and arm and forced herself to stop. She pulled her lips away from the bottle and examined the damage: only about a quarter or so was left of the potion. The rest of it, however, was already working wonders on Elsa: she could feel the warmth of its magical properties spreading to the bump on the side of her head from her middle, and already some of the piercing pain was fading into dull throbbing. A full potion might have rid her of it completely, but...

Given she wasn't sure what to make of her captor's 'nothing,' what little remained of the bottle was all she had as leverage.

She leaned her head back against the wall for a second time, closing her eyes. The potion swirled through her circulatory system, quickly absorbed into her blood after consumption, as it was meant to do. She relished the sweet taste of elderflower it left on her tongue and the artificial and temporary bliss it had bestowed upon her. She felt oddly weightless on the bed as the effects of the medicine drove her pain away, leaving her limp, as if all the crushing weight of the pain had lifted and now there was not enough bulk to her body to even move in any sort of human way anymore.

When she finally managed to pry open her eyes a few minutes later, a loud 'ding!' from the machine behind the girl greeted her back into the waking world. Her vision was blurry, but she could still see the girl standing there, now swaying unsteadily on her feet, staring at her.

Elsa frowned weakly. With all the strength she could muster, she wrapped her slender fingers around the bottle and held it up towards her.

"Thank you," she said. "You should have the rest..."

[Deleted]

"I'm fine," Aerynn said. She was not fine. She was tired and woozy and in incredible pain, but it was not enough for her to relinquish the gift she had bestowed. It was a gift, wasn't it? An item she had good use for, but deciding it was better off in the hands of another. Aerynn could suppress her pain, she could deal with it. She had her entire life. She was not so sure of this unstable elementalist. No, it was better to get her back to peak physical health, so that she was at her strongest when she decided to unleash her icy powers on the entirety of Traverse Town.

Perhaps Aerynn had not quite thought this all the way through.

But she had made her decision, and there was no point in going back on it now. Aerynn knew as soon as she had gifted the potion she had relinquished control of the situation. Perhaps that had been her intent all along. Give the elementalist the advantage, display her weakness, that she was not a threat. Perhaps that would offer the woman some comfort, that she was in no danger, that she was in control. Aerynn's weapon was across the room, set near the door. There was no way for her to retrieve it quick enough to defend herself. As far as she knew, Aerynn was unarmed.

Besides, the coffee was done.

The world spun as Aerynn turned back to the machine, the pain in her shoulder making her dizzy and nauseous. Get to the table. There were cups there, little porcelain white cups. She took a step and stumbled, catching herself against the table's edge. Her arm flopped forward, limp at her side. She had stood still too long. Without adrenaline coursing through the aegyl's veins, the severity of her injuries was catching up to her. She was tired and exhausted and her shoulder throbbed, but she was fine. She just needed some coffee.

Her arm reached out, grasping blindly for the porcelain cup. They were stacked one on top of the other. Aerynn pulled one off, hearing the clatter as the other toppled on its side. She'll take care of that later. Righting the cup in her hand, she grasped for the coffee pot, feeling her fingers wrap around the handle.

Open your eyes.

Sight returned. Taking the pot from the machine, Aerynn poured herself a cup, then placed the pot beside it. She brought the cup to her lips, gave a soft blow, and took a sip. She grimaced.

It was terrible.

Somehow the grounds had entered the pot. Aeryn could feel them, tiny granules that danced in her mouth and settled between her teeth. It was bitter and hot and disgusting, but it was coffee, and that was good enough for her. She took another sip.

There was a knock at the door.

Aerynn stood, coffee cup in hand, and turned to the elementalist. She had not been expecting any visitors, and though she tried to relay that, the aegyl could only manage an expression that was blank and unreadable. Hopefully the woman understood, the woman whose power was already threatening to shatter the bed posts and cover the entire room in a icy sheet. If not, well, there was nothing Aerynn could do.

[Deleted]

"I'm fine," said the girl, who clearly wasn't fine.

Elsa watched her from her place on the bed as she stumbled towards the red machine and the desk upon which it stood, reaching haphazardly -- blindly, even -- for one of the cups stacked next to the contraption. Were her eyes closed? With her vision blurred, Elsa couldn't be sure. When the girl finally managed to grab hold of one of the cups, lifting it from the stack about as gracefully as Elsa had handled her panic attack out on the street and toppling another onto the table, it only reaffirmed that the girl was, indeed, far from fine.

She frowned, tightening her fingers around the bottle. She closed her own eyes for a third time and took a few deep breaths. The medicine was still circling -- she could feel it -- but her headache had dulled considerably and the pulsing that used to rattle her had all but gone. Strength, too had fled her limbs. When she tried to will her feet out from underneath her, in an attempt to stand and perhaps cross the room to give the girl the bottle, she was rewarded only with a sharp tingling in her toes. She moaned and reached down with her free hand, wrapping her fingers around one of her ankles and using her thumb to kneed feeling back into it.

Perhaps the potion itself was the test, she considered. The girl had obviously not wanted to be injured by her ice, probably hadn't been expecting her to retaliate in her unconsciousness -- who could, honestly, it was a ludicrous defence mechanism, even to her; uncontrollable, random, dangerous -- and now she was testing her. What might have happened if she had drank all of it? Despite her words, her captor was neither fine nor entirely out of commission just yet. Even with her weapon half-way across the room, it wouldn't take much to subdue Elsa, physically. She probably wouldn't even need to drink the potion before finishing her work. She could pry the bottle from her still fingers after that.

If only she could remember what the girl had said to her earlier...

Elsa heard a small sip from across the room. The girl must be trying whatever drink she'd been making. Whatever it was, judging by the light stirring of clothing that she was able to hear only because of the deafening silence that separated them, she didn't like it. The girl took another sip.

Just as feeling began to return to her leg, a knock sounded against the wood of the door.

The girl turned to look at her. That same, emotionless gaze bore into Elsa's eyes. Judging, watching, assuming. Condemning.

Elsa's eyes widened.

Of course the girl was fine.

She was probably about to get a rather hefty reward.

She didn't have to worry about a single potion.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

All the warmth, all the calm, all the tranquility the potion had brought her, all the good it had done in such a short amount of time was gone in an instant. Cold -- familiar cold -- pulsed through her veins now, encouraged only by the rapid beating of her heart. Blurred, messy, panicked memories came screaming back: Hans, before entering her prison cell, begging her to stop her Eternal Winter; the soldiers from the Southern Isles, as they burst through the doors of her Ice Palace, pointing crossbows at her; her assistant, on the day of her coronation, telling her it was time, it was now, that everything she'd ever lived for had led up to this moment but no one understood that it was the last thing in the world she wanted, that one wrong move--

One.

Wrong.

Move.

Knocking.

Knocking at her door.

It was always knocking, it seemed.

Always knocking before the voice came, creeping through the keyhole.

The voice, above all others, she longed to hear for so long, even now.

Elsa?

The voice, above all others, she wasn't allowed to hear.

The wood was cracking. She didn't hear it, didn't care to. Couldn't hear it. Her ice, her storm had latched onto her collapsing stability and was running wild: the velvety sheets of the bed were white with frost, frozen stiff as boards; the pillows, once plush and malleable, had become icy stones; the backrest upon which she'd laid her head was now permanently attacked to the wall by a thick and thickening wall of ice that burst outward like a bomb, covering every surface of the room with icy tendrils faster than either of them could blink. An opaque white was spreading from underneath where Elsa sat, hunched over, on the bed. Her hands flew to her head, fingers curled and digging savagely into her hair. The bottle fell onto the hard bed, rolled off the edge and smashed into a thousand pieces on the floor, the last of the potion hardening into a frozen lump upon contact.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The Snow Queen whimpered. Her whole body shook uncontrollably. She sank lower and lower into herself, until she was practically in half, her forehead touching the unyielding frozen sheets.

They were after her again. All of them. That must be it. That was the girl's objective -- find her in the streets, the guilty one, the Destroyer of Stars, subdue her and confine her, only to relinquish her to those who actually wanted her.

Who could it be, knocking on that door, she wondered. The list seemed endless: Prince Hans, back for revenge, his cronies rolling up their sleeves, readying themselves; Master Xehanort, the man she'd thought was trying to help her get home, only to have sent her on this stupid, maddening journey to freeze the worlds... to 'protect' them, actually here to claim his real prize -- not his lost world, but her, she who had finally opened her eyes to the truth and was just starting to try to make things right again; or maybe it was that sickening clown who'd ambushed her in the woods, the one who'd burnt her cheek and left her to die, back for another round.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

... Do you wanna build a snowman?

"No..." she hissed through her teeth, eyes opening to their widest extent, fingers pulling long locks out from the top of her head. "G-... go away, Ann--"

It wasn't going away.

The knocks.

Her ice.

This storm.

Panic.

It was all she was.

And it was bursting through the walls.

The bed collapsed first.

Its heavy ceiling fell, nearly crushing her.

Ice stalagmites flew out of the ground, piercing it, the roof and the roof of the room above, keeping her safe.

Screams filled the halls.

The ice on the walls wasn't ice anymore.

It was alive.

Spikes criss-crossed in their piercing descent into the floor, the ceiling, the opposing wall, wherever they could find.

One of them cut the table bearing the coffee machine clean in half.

One of them pierced the mirror into a thousand little pieces that joined the shards of bottle that still littered the ground.

One of them crashed through the front wall of the room and into the hallway, icy tip shining, sharp as any blade.

One of them -- no, all that remained -- fired across the room, at Elsa, until their rounded bodies had once again sealed her in her own element.

And that's when they heard it.

That's when they all all heard it.

The creaks.

The moans.

The cracks.

The ice, moving.

Circling.

Waiting.

Protecting.

Defending.















Hunting.

[Deleted]

DATA TAGS. Next~! WORDS. 455 NOTES. The danger doesn't matter, only my goal.

to the soldier, the civilian, the martyr, the victim. THIS IS WAR Lightning calmly waited for them to answer. Right now this was her only lead to these Dark Corridors. They how thee creatures of Chaos got from world to world. Right now Light only had the Time Gates and that was too dangerous. It was risky because sometimes they were left open, never truly closed. Over using the gates could hold a number of untold side effects. But these dark corridors were connected to the Darkness somehow. The the Valkyrie was garbed in casual clothing, her armor was not something she needed to carry. They were, after all, armaments granted to her by Bhunivelze himself. She felt anxious, but she was not sure why. Her arms came to rest in front of her chest as a sigh escaped her lungs. The rose haired maiden really lacked patience for these sorts of things. She really hoped that the innkeeper’s suggestion of the pair was not true and they were not -- uwh! No after a fight one had to rest, right? Light fought the blush on her face, expression marked by the clear annoyance that creased on her brows and pushed up against her lips. These were not situations she was ever trained for in her past and nothing god-given powers could pursue, right? She leaned her weight on her legs and stared off. She felt uneasy, unsettled by the turn of events had led to this moment. What had these two fighting? It was none of her business why they were fighting, but learning about these creatures and their mean of travel could perhaps build a bridge that will allow her to cross into a new understanding. She had remembered him and that she made that promise. If she ever woke up she would find the man’s heart and return it, that which kept his Chaos sealed. She had not forgotten Vincent. As the former soldier, now puppet in the schemes of a god, played their games a little longer, but a chill in the air caught her attention, at least not a literal one. She could hear the foundations of the building creaking. These were not the natural creaks of an aging building. She did not have contact with her usual partner and was currently on her own with matters. She was at the final stretch of time, displacing her own presence among the already uneasy annals of time and space. Something was shifting, twisting the building. It was something forceful. The warrior held out her hand, lowering her body slightly. While her right hand was held out and prepared to summon her blade, her left slowly began to generate a spell. The chill was now noticeable, a chilled breathe escaping her pale-pink lips. It was coming.

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