#grxceblr

The Freljord had never been a comfortable place for him. His blood ran colder still, his nose turned red, and his eyes narrowed as he trudged through the cold. Even worse was the Frostguard Citadel, far north of the rest, and as he stumbled forward through the wastes, map in hand, he had no choice but to ask the first he stumbled across. “I’m looking for... Lissandra...?”

And that was when the trouble started.

His feet landed softly as he swung through the window, slowing his breathing. Avoiding the Frostguard, the trolls, the rabble, he felt far more like a thief than a courier. Yet, as he turned the corner and stumbled upon her visage, he was... stunned. Shock melted into worry, then worry froze into fear, coal hues sliding over the sprawled, battered form of the Ice Witch.

“L...L-Lissandra...?”

A fever. Could she even get a fever? His fingers quivered as the deep orange glow in his eyes faded. She was of his kind, or perhaps he was of hers, and their natural resting temperatures were not the 98.6 of humans. No, they were colder, and she was struggling to regulate, struggling to keep herself cold.

He laughed softly. Someone who had colder hands than him. How insane. For the moment, he had been forced to create a bed made of snow and ice, but that would only keep her cold for so long. How many books had he skimmed, how many pages had he flipped through in a matter of minutes, until his eyes screamed for relief? But now, now he knew. He had to find at least a shard of it, a shard of True Ice.

He landed harshly against the ground of the Citadel, clenching his fist as flakes of ice cracked and fell off his bruised form. Gone was the right sleeve of his coat, blood dripping across the frosted ground as he stumbled slowly towards her.

“I got it...” He walked slowly, trembling as he moved towards the still form of Lissandra. They had warned him no one could touch True Ice, not even capture it in a container, because it would freeze everything it touched. It was good then, that he didn’t have to touch it. He just had to bring it here. He focused, closing his eyes...

And the entire room froze over.

“Your fever is down, I should hope, but I would rest.” Cold lips trembled as the voice sang from the corner, echoing from within the small ball of flesh that had tried its best to curl up.

The moment she had begun to stir, he had noticed. Ears perked up, breathing leveled off, voice rose higher and stronger as the protest started. “I never rest...” 

“You should.” His voice strained, prompting a soft cough as he slowly unfurled. The clear sound of ice cracking and tinkling as it fell to the ground like shards of glass filled the room, filling the divide between Ice Witch and Planeswalker. His hand slid slowly across empty space, gesturing towards a batch of muffins before he turned around to leave, waving his goodbye with sleeveless arm and bloody shirt.