#ralphxelsa

Frozen Fractals All Around

The only Icebreakers drawing I ever did.  The drawing I had on my blog already was really small so I decided to upload the full sized one.  For the context behind the art, click here.

What's this ship called again?

Seeking Solace

——

"Ralph? Do you know why I don’t like storms?"

The sudden poignant question nearly gave the wrecker whiplash. Honesty was one of the many drawbacks of letting people get close to you, he was beginning to learn.

"Well… not to assume nothing, but I guess it has something to do with the noise?" He shrugged a shoulder. The bed creaked. "I dunno."

The Queen of Arendelle lied on the large assortment of once-neat sheets and pillows that was once a bed, curled up in the crook of Ralph’s arm. A storm raged outside, but not one of white or snow. Rain, slush and a soup of grey were all that graced Ralph’s bedroom—one of the many guest rooms— windows, as well as the occasional flash of lightening. There were few things in life that frightened Elsa more than the thought of losing her sister, but being alone in the middle of thunderstorms ranked rather high on the list.

She had originally planned to take refuge in her sister’s quarters for the evening, as she had done so many times before. Not long after slipping out of her room, she’d nearly run headlong into Ralph, who had just returned from checking up on Vanellope. Apparently she wasn’t a big fan of thunderstorms either.

While in the company of the sugar-coated princess’s comrade, Elsa’s previous fears all but melted away. He’d agreed to keep the Queen company well into the night, at least until the storm passed. The two of them tried stay awake with conversation in the parlor, but soon the long hours and cups of tea Elsa had asked Olaf to brew for them were starting to wear on.

The next thing either of them knew, they were trudging back to Ralph’s room— the closer of the two— and curling up together in a warm, lulled pile. Ralph was big enough to practically be Elsa’s bed, and his supposed body odor didn’t bother her nearly as much as it had upon first impression. It paled in comparison to Kristoff’s— at least Ralph didn’t smell like reindeer.

"I don’t quite understand it either." Elsa sighed, her tiny hand gently clutching the fabric of Ralph’s nightshirt. "I create storms. I command the snow, ice, the wind. The elements are mine to control. And yet…"

A flash. A crash.

Elsa jumped and buried her head at the crook of Ralph’s, his chest and fabric muffling a rather un-queenly shriek. He went stiff as a board. Whether it was from the loud thunderclap or the clinging, he was not sure.

"…And y-yet…"

"…Hey, easy there."

Ralph put a large hand, his only free one, onto her shoulder. Rather than recoil, she leaned more closely against him, her shivering lessening little by little. Oddly enough, Ralph understood what she was going through more than anyone.