CrownS

He carefully lips at her mane when she leans into him, gently coaxing the knots from her hair the way he enjoys being comforted. He isn’t sure what he would do if a fire broke out and his father left to investigate it. But she says he’s right and a sense of relief fills him. Who knows what sort of awful darkness might snatch her away if she took a wrong step in Pangea? The thought turns his veins to ice and so he quickly tries to think of anything else.

She says she’d like to see Icicle Isle and he nods, as it is one of the few places he’s comfortable teleporting. He had accidentally pulled himself and Eight there once when a fever still coiled itself around him. The boy takes a deep breath and summons a pillar of fire to swirl around them - Crowns, Rosemary, and Calypso, too. When he exhales, the autumn winds of the north cut harshly against their faces.

“If you get too cold, let me know!” he says, snowflakes already gathering along his lashes and in his sapphire mane. He laughs much easier now, far from the strange sickness of the east. His hooves kick up a flurry of snow and then he runs. Every step makes a glorious crunching noise that he simply can’t replicate elsewhere. Even the snow in the meadow is different, somehow.

“If we wait long enough, we’ll see the weird lights,” he calls over his shoulder as he comes to a stop.

you got me on my knees; i'm your one-man cult.