08-22-2018, 10:57 PM
They think of the mountain as a cold and lonesome place, but to an extent that’s just what the mountain looks like because that’s what they <i>think</i> the mountain will be like. Perhaps, if they came with open minds, the mountain would be a more welcome place. He certainly hasn’t come with an open mind, and she is perfectly happy to oblige him with the cold and the wind and the ice…she is the ice fairy, after all.
At first, she’s only mildly interested because he expects the winter weather, and she turns a half a thought to obliging him. The storm of emotions she feels coming from him are part interesting and part irritating, enough to hold her notice. But it’s the last bit that cinches the deal; she appears behind him somewhere between “Hey fairies!” and “You stupid twittery butterflies”, waiting silently until he finishes his rampage.
<b> “Fix <i>what</i>?”</b> she says then, and her voices echoes as if in an empty cavern, though the icy wind would have nearly stolen the sound away from any mere mortal. A flick of a blue-tipped ear is all of her intentional motion as she surveys him. <b> “You’re physically healthy. You’ve been granted a trait. You’ve got a large and loving family. ”</b> For a moment, she reaches out and shoves some images into his head – those who are less fortunate. Blind, deaf, mute, starving, alone, dying.
Some of her sisters are soft. Compassionate. They might have taken a different tact with one of their erstwhile children who was suffering – but all she can think of is those who are suffering more, and so she stares at him from behind dark eyes and awaits a response.
At first, she’s only mildly interested because he expects the winter weather, and she turns a half a thought to obliging him. The storm of emotions she feels coming from him are part interesting and part irritating, enough to hold her notice. But it’s the last bit that cinches the deal; she appears behind him somewhere between “Hey fairies!” and “You stupid twittery butterflies”, waiting silently until he finishes his rampage.
<b> “Fix <i>what</i>?”</b> she says then, and her voices echoes as if in an empty cavern, though the icy wind would have nearly stolen the sound away from any mere mortal. A flick of a blue-tipped ear is all of her intentional motion as she surveys him. <b> “You’re physically healthy. You’ve been granted a trait. You’ve got a large and loving family. ”</b> For a moment, she reaches out and shoves some images into his head – those who are less fortunate. Blind, deaf, mute, starving, alone, dying.
Some of her sisters are soft. Compassionate. They might have taken a different tact with one of their erstwhile children who was suffering – but all she can think of is those who are suffering more, and so she stares at him from behind dark eyes and awaits a response.