He should have known this would happen; Belgarath eventually stopped ageing, and while he doesn’t pretend to understand how the ice has crystallized his cells and frozen life in its tracks, he isn’t complaining either. No, he doesn’t complain much about anything anymore. If Belgarath is irked, he blasts whatever it is that irks him with shards of ice; if it was living, it usually wasn’t after that. If it was dead, well… the atmosphere just became a hell of a lot more comfortable for him. At this rate, the ice man occasionally thinks, should just go take over the Tundra.
Except not. The men there are boring and stoic and self-righteous. No one likes to see arctic hares try and dodge jagged pillars of ice as spring up through the rock-hard ground. No one seems to like his little demon friends except him. And that’s a real shame, because they’re just dying for some company.
It may come as no surprise that winter is Bel’s favorite time of year. The coldness may have invaded every crevice of his hluking body, but there is something about waking and not having to chill the air around him to stay in a pleasant(ish) mood. The sky is grey and the clouds are thick. The trees are barren and brown, and look like depressing skeletons reaching towards the sky. Permafrost coats the ground, giving the morning sun something to do, though it is weak and can’t do more than melt and re-melt it every day. His hooves crush the dead, crunchy grass enthusiastically, as he lingers at the edge of the forest and takes stock of the horses that wander in and out of the wide-set trees. Now, Belgarath doesn’t look particularly threatening; he’s just big-boned, and right now, his breath fogs in front of him just like everyone else’s. Had it been summer, their impression of him and the chill in his immediate vicinity may be alarming. But now? Now he can lure them in.Now is a fantastic time to return to Beqanna.
He’s sure whomever he meets here will think so too.
belgarath
@[SamShine] @[Esileif]