you do not know who is your friend

or who is your enemy

until the   ICE breaks.

She was not the only one who strayed from home only rarely; Ice had barely set foot outside the Grove since the fight with Rhysis. The need to stay close to home had been overpowering, but sometimes not even that was enough to keep him in place. Even though Ice was convinced Indru had done the right thing when rejecting Borlla, it had set a restless fire in his bones. Corinna would have Marsh keeping her safe through this storm, and they could manage without him for a couple of days. He'd let them know he'd be gone for a bit, and then he'd taken off, not sure what he was looking for - until he found it in the form of a scent, a trail stretching across the northern face of Relic Lore. There was no mistaking it, for he'd never forget what Naira and Rhysis smelled like. Nor would he forget her special scent, intermingled with that of monsters. As his strides lengthened into lopes and the ground disappeared beneath him, he could see her slender black form and her bright eyes. Anticipation set his blood on fire, but he knew the journey would be long, so there was no point in burning energy on this emotion, but... He couldn't help it, the brightness in his eyes, the adrenaline in his blood, the desire to catch her unawares and leap from the shadows... the roles reversed.


With only the goal of finding her in mind, the territories of Relic Lore flashed by as he tracked her with the determination of a bloodhound. The stars were out now, the moon guiding his steps, and as always it soothed him. Nonsense broken by his even yet hard breathing drifted onto the wind, snatches of poetry and rhymes about stars and life and paladins and assassins; eventually that quieted though, when her trail led into the snarls of the Thicket. His meeting with Alexander had been very pleasant, but at the same time, he hadn't like the place. It was too tangled, too oppressive, too confusing - frankly, it was one hell of a labyrinth and Ice had no desire to get stuck in it and get lost. He had a path now, though, and with a rugged snarl he forged on ahead, nose to the ground as he traced the way she'd come. Determination was driving him hard, and it took an effort to calm down; if he wanted to surprise her, he couldn't show up panting and with all the noise of a bull in a china shop. And so, Ice's steps became slow and deliberate as he wove between the thick branches, his breathing and heart rate calming and growing quiet. With her scent as a guide he picked his way through the thicket, and found a scene that made him hesitate.


Moonlight illuminated a glade full of early spring blossoms, the kind that defied snow and bloomed the moment the days lengthened; knocked out in their midst was a black she-wolf, silver moonlight covering the tips of her coat. Flowers bloomed all around her, and her eyes were closed, yet her side rose and fell steadily. She looked so serene and at peace that it felt like a crime to disturb her, but he hadn't followed her across half of Relic Lore only to disappear like a wraith in the night. A silent exhale, and determination came over him. With utmost care he maneuvered his large body, freeing himself from the tangle of boughs as quietly as possible. Fresh grass, soft and young, bent under his weight as he silently drew closer, a pale ghost in the night, until he was so close that if he reached out, he could touch her. He didn't know whether she'd seen him or not, but by now it was likely she had scented him, now that he was so close; holding his breath he reached out his head, nose close to her ears. "Boo, my dear assassin," he whispered in a rush of hot breath, a warm and playful smile on his face.

.ice aesir

you do not know who is your friend

or who is your enemy

until the   ICE breaks.

Well, whatever he had expected, it certainly hadn't been this.


Apparently, she'd fallen asleep, and the moment his breath woke her up... Well, he sort of wished he'd just left her there and padded home again. She literally exploded, flying up as if a wasp had stung her in some very sensitive place, and with a dry hiss she smacked him full in the face with one black paw. Surprise and pain caught up to him at pretty much the same time, and once he realized that she'd hit him, he'd already backpedaled and stood at the safe distance of two yards. Warily he watched her, and in spite of his calm appearance, his heart and mind absolutely raged like an ocean. What on earth was she doing? And why? She looked absolutely ready to kill him, and he had no idea why. As far as he knew, Swift River hadn't bothered her pack, and unless someone had been whispering lies in her ear about a certain pale guardian... There just wasn't any plausible explanation, and that left only one way out: hurt. He'd been looking forward to meeting her again, perhaps the same routine as the last time, talk and play... But... How could things have changed so much in such a short time? Even as his face fell, his heart hardened, and he clenched his jaws. Stupid of him to think enemies could be friends. Was she showing her true colors now that he'd surprised her?


Just as he was about to give her a tired snarl and turn his broad shoulder in her direction and disappear the way he'd come, she - miraculously - changed. In the matter of a heartbeat her snarl silenced and her amber eyes lost their ferocious glint, and, stars have mercy, she promptly faceplanted the flowers. Blinking dumbly in silence for several seconds, he just stared at her downed form. What had just happened? One moment she'd been ready to rip him to pieces, and the next, she looked as if she wanted to sink into the ground and disappear forever. He wasn't sure what to think of it, and decided that to keep staring was the best course of action. Not even the whimpering little laugh broke his dumbstruck trance, and in fact he probably would've stood there forever unless she'd spoken. As it happened, though, her mumble seemed to cause some sort of recovery within him, but the pace of the situation still was slow so it took him some more seconds before he gave a stretched, huffed bark of laughter. "You've gotten paranoid, stranger girl," he remarked dryly, using his pet name for her. Well.. maybe she'd always been, just that the last time she'd been awake when they met. He hadn't breathed down her neck like some creeper when she slept peacefully in a glade of flowers.


Speaking of which... Theatrically Ice looked around himself, at the uprooted spring flowers. It looked like her half-crazed scrabble for purchase on the damp ground had done some damage, and with a look of mock disapproval he scolded her. "Tsk tsk tsk... And you just had to ruin the flower arrangements, hadn't you?" Fighting to keep the smile in check he shook his head, hoping she'd recognize his voice as the one he'd used when they played the last time. Looked like one of his favorite pastimes was harassing her - first criticizing her knowledge on anatomy, and now berating her for ruining the "flower arrangements"! He would've facepalmed himself it had been physically possible, and comfortable. Still, despite the warmth returning to his voice and body, he kept his distance. Can't be too careful when around assassins... heh.

.ice aesir

you do not know who is your friend

or who is your enemy

until the   ICE breaks.

It seemed that she'd let off the crazy woman act - for now. Still he hung back, somewhat wary, but not wanting to bolt either. The knowledge that he would've bolted if she hadn't dropped it when she did was heavy in his soul. How near he'd come to casting her out of his life, only to protect himself and his foolish, foolish heart. It had been so easy to trust her among the willows, when the wind roared around them in the darkness. Now... the breeze was calm, and it was as if it didn't snatch the distrust away. At her words, he snorted. "Got what I deserved for breathing down your neck," he muttered, and truth to be told, it did ease some of the tension in his body. While he didn't know what she'd been through, what possibly could've caused such aggressive awakenings, he knew that he carried part of the blame. He'd woken her in what he'd considered a playful manner, but clearly she hadn't. Briefly he mused on what sort of trauma that could've made such a lasting impact on her, but the possibilities were too many and too varied. Randomly guessing one of them would just do further harm to tonight's meeting. Asking her if a bear had once poked her awake didn't seem quite right.


Concerned caused a frown to appear on his face as she began to groom one of her paws, over something that looked like an injury - or at least something that didn't cause the fur to fall quite the way it would. But, he decided not to ask about it right now. He didn't want to get it in the face again, so soon after the first time. Instead, he gave her a lopsided grin when she realized what a mess she'd made out of the poor flowers. But.. argh, she was always so dominant! Instead of apologizing (like a proper lady?) she gathered herself together, and sat like a proper lady, but he be damned if it wasn't the assassin lurking in the shadows of her bright eyes! Ice snorted, adopting his more gentlemanly persona again. "But, my dear lady!" he began in a nearly-offended voice. Something akin to scorn settled in his voice, as if he was mocking her attempt to sound intelligent. After all, females couldn't be intelligent, now, could they? Fighting to keep the smile off his face, but allowing it to play in his eyes, he sank down where he was, wrinkling his nose. Couldn't get closer, or he'd choke on her smell! (To be honest, he wasn't fond of smelling Rhysis and Naira on her, so it wasn't hard to pretend.) Uneducated woman! "This is not art anymore. It is destruction! Pandemonium! It's a blemish on the face of earth, and an insult to every other flower that still has roots!" He scoffed at her. If she thought it was beautiful, she really was out of her mind.


At least, that was the opinion of whoever Ice was pretending to be.


Hopefully, she wouldn't rip out every other flower as well, so that there was no one or nothing left to be insulted. If she did, he'd have to claim to be insulted himself, or be the Protector of the Flowers and challenge her for the evil deeds she were committing! And, to be honest, he just might had to proclaim himself that anyway... just for fun, y'know. But, not quite yet. He was already Relic Lore's paladin, he could wait a bit to see what witty - or violent - reply she'd come up with. Still wearing his frowning, scornful look, though with the corners of his mouth twitching a tad too much, he pinned her with his silver eyes. True art, indeed! While he might agree that the disarray of color was beautiful, it certainly wasn't necessary to uproot the poor little blossoms! They didn't exactly grow in orderly rows to begin with, although... he did enjoy her comeback. It made it easier to forget the rage, and to fall back into the pattern of their last meeting. It made it so easy to feel joy, and so hard to contain the unbound laugh that bubbled in his throat, demanding to get free. He fought for control, to keep the mask in place, allowing his mirth only two outlets: the sporadic twitching of his tail, and the dancing merriment in his pale eyes.

.ice aesir

you do not know who is your friend

or who is your enemy

until the   ICE breaks.

Their word-sparring acted like soothing balm on an ache, healing the temporary rift caused between them. Already the cicatrix was forming, and as with all scars, he knew it'd stay there for a long time - but, in the end, it could disappear. He wouldn't go probing in this, he was just happy that she was back to her old self again. He'd definitely not try waking her up again, though. He'd leave that to someone braver.. or maybe you just needed to be somewhat foolish to do it? Y'know, lacking a sense of self-preservation? A crooked grin threatened to overtake his features, warm appreciation of her quick, lashing tongue spreading through his body. It was a sensation akin to the one Corinna woke in him, but different from what he felt for Marsh and Triell. He didn't poke this sensation either, but simply let it spread, taking pleasure in its encompassing warmth. Whoever her own heart would beat faster for was certainly blessed by the stars - Ice just hoped he could remain her friend until the end of days, even if she was part of Rhysis' mountain pack, or started her own somewhere. He just couldn't imagine a life without her spunky self, her sense of humor quite synced with his own. The way her eyes lit up, he felt his own answer in kind, the grin breaking free slightly from his control, rebelling and flaunting itself across his face. He ducked his head to hide it, listening to her berate him. Instantly, he scowled and gave a snort. A kindness? No, miss, I think not!


Somewhere though, their arguments had gotten horribly tangled up in truth and in themselves. Ice's pale eyes narrowed as he frowned. He'd called it pandemonium, while acknowledging to himself that they weren't straight; she'd uprooted them, while acknowledging that they hadn't been orderly to begin with. It just didn't make sense, and he tilted his head to the side. "Since we both agree that they didn't grow in orderly, sorted rows to begin with," he started saying, voice slow. He'd dropped most of the persona as well, trying to understand this as the slightly thick Ice he was. "Then why uproot the poor mites and toss 'em around?" His gaze became slightly distant as he tried to figure it out himself, but in the end he just couldn't, and gave his head a shake as if to clear it. Very confusing, on the whole...


A startled snort escaped him when she dropped down with a snarl, the mask of a persona sliding on again to veil his features, but leaving his eyes alert and bright. "Yes, I do!" he snapped playfully, having a bad feeling about this. It felt like she was trying to become some sort of wood-shark, and would leap at him any moment and try to.. well.. maybe strew pieces of him out among the flowers? Or commit other unspeakable atrocities to him! But, she didn't advance on him... Just combed the uprooted flowers, tossing petals into the air and wriggling in under them... Bewildered amusement filled him, and he guffawed at her pleased, smirking eyes. Oh, she was quite the something! But this, this needed some sort of brilliant riposte! Except, he didn't feel that brilliant. Ice forced his face to look stern, and stepped forward, closing the yards between them to mere centimeters. With a very, very unamused set of his jaws and frowning - twinkling - eyes he stared down the length of his muzzle, and onto her petal-strewn head. "It is unacceptable," he gravely informed her, deadly serious. "A very grave offense, this.. desecration of the dead! It must be punished." And he smirked. Even if he hadn't proclaimed himself Protector of the Flowers verbally yet, he'd assumed the role. With a very non-threatening growl he bent his broad head down, and determinedly tried to drool in her ear.

.ice aesir

you do not know who is your friend

or who is your enemy

until the   ICE breaks.

It was nothing short of amazing to catch her, to watch her tongue and mind tie themselves into knots and yet nothing flew out with the startling speed and precision she normally delivered her ripostes with. He'd been ready for something flying at him like a crossbow bolt, but she faltered, and his eyes widened just a fraction. He knew the feeling so well, the one of being tongue-tied or just coming up with all the witty replies after the moment's passed, and yet... With her, he felt so free, so unbound, like his thoughts and words became trickles of crystal clear water instead of muddy pools. It was purifying in so many ways, and he gave her lame response a snort. By the rules of their game, it didn't even warrant a reply! It only deserved his scorn, and he gave it willingly while his dark lips twitched. Flashes of white showed as he battled his smile, failing very much at looking like the scornful gentleman. Focus and control were slipping away, but he needed them back!


And... he nearly burst out laughing. It seemed that the proper lady, who never was a proper lady, wasn't only an assassin, but the fine arts critic as well! They were one and the same! Her whisper earned her a stern look from the knight of the night past, an expression that very much said I will die trying, my dear assassin! and when she bolted... well, he damn near died! It seemed she wasn't fond of being drooled on the ear, for she burst from the flowery ground with a hellish shriek that sent his ears flat to his skull. She even barged into him but he barely noticed, a bewildered and amused look on his face before he gathered himself. Trying to get his face straight, and eradicating the damn grin that was ruining his display, he raised his own tail and tried to remain the picture of calm. She was the livid one, he had to remain the calm, gentle knight. "Soiled you?" Ice gave a dramatic gasp, trying to look indignant and proud. "What are you suggesting I have done? I am a proper gentleman, Relic Lore's finest paladin, and you insinuate I have been less than holy?" Who was this fire-eyed she-demon to even suggest such a thing!


The answer came when she shrieked again: she was the Necromancer of the Flowers.


Spookily enough, the wind picked up with a sibilant sound and dragged a few of the pretty petals into the air, shoving them towards him. Frozen, as if in horror but in truth just being amazed at the wind's timing, he watched them with wide eyes. This was.. was.. foul! Unholy! Vile! How dare she use the powers of darkness on him? And - being someone of the Holy Sun and the Colorful Flowers... in the realm of Night, with the Moon vigilant... He was at a disadvantage! She was on her home turf, and he had challenged her - stupidly... "Nooooooooooooooooooooooo!" he wailed, tossing his head back and lamenting the skies while his eyes glittered mirthfully. One of the petals brushed against his side, and with an agonized yowl he toppled himself, pretending to shrink away from her cursed minions. Why did the dark forces get to have such aromatic weapons?! Unfair! Then again... if she "killed" him now, he'd likely be buried in flowers, and then he'd smell sweet at least. Not so bad a death.


Wriggling a little on the ground, he tried to fix his merry eyes on her even as he tried to look pleading and afraid. "No, m-my dear, d-dark w-witch! H-have mercy," he stammered out his plea, ignoring the part in lore about paladins and knights being valiant warriors that died proudly and without fear. Well, screw that - they didn't get to fight undead flowers!

.ice aesir