Prisoners.
Snow has a scent. If asked to describe it Vindi would be at a loss for words that made up a physical description. To her it was a distinct scent that brought about a calming effect upon her. Much like the dampened sounds of forest and fields, hushed winds, and gentle illumination it gave the night; it soothed her thoughts, slowed their thousand yalms pace, quieted the incessant background chatter of her mind, and gave her a sense of comfort. Not tonight. Here she sat, legs crossed and hands on a box in her lap, snow seen beyond the edges of what her vision could reach and bundles of trees spread in-between all around her. The moon hung high and the snow fell in fat, slow, flakes around her, trees clacking or cracking from the expanding frozen water within their branches. While Coerthas was a discomfort to many, to Vindi it was beginning to feel like home. While away from those she loved it felt safe. The dim glow of her indigo eyes fell upon the box in her lap. With the soft white and midnight hue of her surroundings the red-draconic scaled box looked more purple. Bare fingers smoothed over it and fell towards the lock and paused. There was no key for this, only a short, sharp needle that stuck out. Blood magic; only she could open this small chest. "Startin' to wonder, y'know.  If I's was ever meant to be free." Certo's words from the prior night echoed her mind and her chest tightened. Freedom. Her heart lurched and ached at the word. What resided in that little box used to be her jailer but now it was little more than a horrifying memento. The plague of suffering it delivered now weakened and dulled when she brought it with her to this new home. It was still there, the potential to all come back, a seed in her blood and mind that now lay dormant, sleeping. It slept. It gave her freedom as it did and yet... Something warm and damp slipped down her cheeks only to slow and freeze before it could fall away. Gingerly she reached to touch the tear and sighed; crying when alone was becoming an unwelcome habit of late. There was never any sobs or relief that came from it, just a wet, frozen face and a sense of frustration. This sadness wasn't for herself. This heart ache, anger, and lust for violence wasn't because of her own problems. It was for theirs. It made her envy the days when the only person she gave two shits about was herself. She could possibly keep her magic in check if she still felt that way. She wouldn't have ended up in a situation where control over her magic was an issue to start with. Where ice and frost were both her enemy and her friend. Bare fingers drummed atop the box, claw tips looking more like sharpened icicles than cartilage. It should have alarmed her but at this point she saw no point to feeling concern for herself. It's not like she was going to last much longer anyway. That's what her gut kept telling her, at least. Lifting her gaze toward the moon she hummed a soft tune as she thought; what form of comfort could she leave them? How could she help give them each their own freedoms back? Their jailers were each unique in form; some emotional, some magical, some deeply seeded in their blood like her own. She had witnessed some of them escape of one 'prison' only to be shackled to another. She thought back to Certo's words once more and let her body fall back into the blanket of snow. "Perhaps his line of thinkin’ is right.. " Vindi mumbled, searching the stars for a sliver of something, anything. Once upon a time she would have remained stubborn, hopeful, demanding of her friends and loved ones freedom. 'No one is meant to be a prisoner!' Her voice would have rung out angrily, stoking the flames of determination. Those feelings had run numb and out of reach. It was all she could do to muster a smile and laugh as if nothing were wrong anymore. What if he was right? Freedom was never meant to be for them, for any of them. A new jailer would always be waiting.. No matter how hard fought it would always end the same. A plague. A curse. A book. How do you fight for the ones you love when all you're doing is setting them up for a new battle that will hurt more than the last? A void. A needle. A portal. A spirit. A thought. The list would never cease from changing. It would never end.
