It was cold. Even the heretic king thought it was so dreadingly cold. Then again, the loving embrace of the void he had felt once too many in his past was even infinitly colder. Just the thought made him shudder. Reminded him just why he followed his religion. And slew all people that stood in his way.
A thick fur cloak flakkered in the icy winds that blew through him. Freezing him to the core of his bones. Yet again, he trudged onwards. A village within his sight. He would rest there. Burning it down was an idea most unwise. Yet, people would most likely recognize the scourge that he was.
A problem he would solve soon as he walked up to the village.
Cecelia's breath formed an icy mist in front of her as she walked through the snow. Her cheeks and nose were tinged pink with the cold. She wrapped her cloak tighter around herself, cursing the weather for being particularly awful that day. Just my luck, she thought. It has to be freezing outside the day I go out to the market.
She left her home behind her as she went deeper into the village. Accustomed to the snow, her boots barely made a sound as she traveled.
Today can't get any worse.
Limadan walked through the small streets of the village. The center would be the wisest place to start looking for an inn. People evaded him. Took some distance and dropped whatever they were doing as the massive ment clad in enchanted armour passed through. Nervous whispers and fearful words were uttered. Small prayers murmured asking whatever deity for protection. An aura ofbpure entroy surrounded him.
Yet a woman walked infront of him. A woman of young age. Was her stupidity caused by a lack of experience or just sheer ignorance? It was an odd yet refreshing change of pace. Somone who did not cower in his approach.
Cecelia narrowed her eyes in confusion. The townsfolk were casting fearful glances in her direction, scurrying away and shutting their windows. Although she carried an unfriendly atmosphere around her, people had never reacted this way before. It can't be me. The woman bit the inside of her lip and dared to look behind her.
I suppose today can get worse...
No more than ten feet away from her was a massive man, covered from head to toe in sleek, metal armor. The foreboding atmosphere around him was enough to freeze her veins into rivers of ice. However, she was too stubborn to give anyone the satisfaction of quivering in fear.
So she held her head up high and kept on walking towards the marketplace.
Absolutely intruiging. A small smile played underneath the heretic king's mask. He had no effort to catch up with the woman, moving with great and mighty strides. The ever dreadful presence drawing near Cecelia. A mighty voice resounded. Deep. Dark and filled with enourmous authority. The command was simple. "Halt." Was said by the juggernaut. And only a fool would disobey him.
Cecelia eyed the man warily, taking a few rebellious steps after the command was issued. Then, she stopped, knowing full well that he could probably knock her off her feet with one hit. What could he possibly want with me? she wondered. She wasn't well known; she had no money. With a dangerous amount of confidence, the woman placed her hands on her hips and addressed the hulking form in front of her.
"What is it that you want?"
A low snarl left the man. She certainly was courageous. Though. Courage often mingled with stupidity. And this seemed the case. "Do explain.." He started, followed by a slow chuckle. "How do you muster this courage infront of me?" It certainly was becoming more and more interesting. He knew next to nothing about this woman's capabilities. But she sure had some guts. And that was something of importance aswell.
When the man chuckled, a crippling chill went down her spine. She swallowed her fear and refused to back down in front of him.
"You haven't killed me yet," she replied, refusing to look away. Her arms were shaking slightly. She gripped the cloth of her cloak, forcing them to stop. "If you wanted me dead, I have a feeling I wouldn't be standing here right now. You want something else, yet you haven't even answered my own question yet."
Limadan looked down at her hands. Not the subtlest of movements escaping him. "If you were killed.. You would not be able to gather any courage.. And yet. You toil life on the edge.. For what? Honour? Stubborness?"
He chuckled again. More and more people hastily leaving the streets. "What I want from you? You intruige me. A mere curiousity."
He smirked underneath the mask. "Have you ever heard Harmaa's teachings?"
"No, I haven't," Cecelia said, wondering what in the world could possibly be intriguing about her. She lived in a solitary shop in a solitary village in a solitary country that was only known for being cold and harsh. What business could the man possibly have here? In an attempt to calm her nerves, the woman ran a hand through her pale blonde hair, keeping the stray strands away from her face.
The more she stood there, the more unease she felt.
"I have to leave; I need to get to the market before everyone runs away," she said hastily, breaking her stubbornness and turning to walk away.
A low snarl left the enourmous man. Yet, he decide to not punish her for her insolence. Quite the intruiging character. He just stared down the small figure. Before she turned around and left. Her resolve shattering.
Like everyone else. "And persue this dull life? Have an unmeaningful existence and be forgotten in the weave of time?" Limadan shook his head. Pathetic. He didn't even need to hear her answer. Not interested anymore.He noticed an inn on his right and entered.
(Prepare yourself for a long part ;-;)
Cecelia glanced back just as the man had entered the inn, her eyebrows furrowing. Why is he here in the first place? To be honest, she hadn't expected him to let her go so easily. If he hadn't killed her, than what else could he possibly want? He never answered her question. The woman shook her head, rubbing her hands together to ease her nerves and ward off the cold.
She soon approached the marketplace, not at all surprised that it was nearly deserted. A single, middle aged man stood at his stall, eyeing her warily as she walked up to him. He wrinkled his fat nose in disgust.
"You think I'll still sell you my wares, girl? After you just spoke to the Heretic King?" he spat. Cecelia felt a surge of anger go through her veins as she narrowed her eyes at him. Like I had a choice in the matter! However, before she could utter a retort, the shopkeeper added, "You're probably a heretic yourself, aren't you?"
"Listen here, you old-"
"Threats aren't going to change my mind," he said, glaring at her. He slammed his meaty hands on the stall table and snarled, "And if you don't leave right now, I'm going to get the guards to arrest you. I don't think you'll like prison much, girl." Cecelia took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. Before she could do anything she'd regret, she grit her teeth and walked away. It's all that Heretic King's fault. And if I can't get supplies from the market....well...I have no other choice than to confront him.
With an amount of boldness only stupidity could provide, the woman began to trudge towards the inn.
There seemed to be some commotion in the inn. Louder than usual. All of a sudden, the door was blasted from it's hinges, a corpse flying out. A shortsword stuck through his gut. The trail of blood followed the corpse as it smacked against the wall.
Enter Heretic King. The massive man stepped out of the inn. Blood covering his clothes. People seemed to back away. Yet guards or security were nowhere to be seen. A smirk curled on Limadan's lips. He was feared to the extent that even the peacekeepers remained at least five meters away from him. He put his foot down on the corpse, his hand closing around the hilt of the shortsword. Pulling it slowly from the man's gut. "Fool." He merely stated, wiping the blood of the blade on the dead man's clothes, before sheathing it and going to return back to the inn. As if nothing had happened.
Cecelia approached the inn, watching in horror and...slight amusement as the man kicked away a corpse as if it were a mere stone in his path. But I do not have a choice to back down. If I do not approach him, I will be without supplies for longer than I can survive. The woman took a deep breath, running up to where the man was about to enter the inn. Her heart seemed to freeze in her chest in fear as she boldly grabbed the arm of the massive juggernaut. The metal was cold under her fingertips, an unpleasant chill running down her spine.
She couldn't help but feel she had made an awful mistake.
A hand on his armor. Something he would've shrugged off, probably even give a backhand to anyone who was insolent enough to dare touch him. Yet, he did not. His curiousity got the better of him as he turned to Cecelia. "You seek revenge?" He merely asked, his hand notioning at the corpse in the corner idly. As if it was the most normal of things.
"No," Cecelia replied simply, her jaw setting in determination. "I am seeking...your aid, I suppose. Since you spoke to me, the only shopkeeper who dares show his face with you around...he denies me his wares. Because of you, I cannot get the supplies I need to run my shop and earn money." She paused, eyeing the man carefully. "They say...that I may be a heretic as well."
The very word caused a feeling to settle in her gut. The feeling was unpleasant...yet mildly exciting. It was definitely an interesting title.
"My aid?" A dark chuckle resounded from behind the mask. "If someone does not give you what you desire, you take it," he simply stated, "a knife to throat usually does the trick." He said, shrugging slowly. Before she said the word heretic, causing him to turn to Cecelia.
"Do you imply I am a heretic?" His voice was cold, yet burning rage was still heard.
"Everyone in this town surely thinks so," the woman said, crossing her arms over her chest. "And it would be unwise to commit murder and steal. I would surely be arrested, and then no one would get what they want. However..." She eyed the metallic juggernaut. "...No one seems intent on arresting you. Why is that?"
"Then perhaps I should destroy everything that breathes.." He said to himself, contemplating. He saw the woman folding her arms as if scolding a child. The disrespect. He more felt like snapping her nek right there. But the heretic king kept his composure. "They simply can't." Was what he stated, so bluntly. So matter-of-factly.
"How? How could you possibly stop all of the guards in this town?" Cecelia asked, intrigued. The woman wasn't going to lie to herself; the very thought of being that powerful made her adrenaline run. The dark, cracked part of her mind was drawn in. She took a small step closer. "Are you truly that powerful?"
"They fear me.." A smirk formed on his lips, behind the mask. He raised his hand, met by a loud and tormented scream as a soul rose from the fresh corpse, bound by dark green chains. The soul got warped, pulled to his raised hand and dissappearing in the palm of his hand. Reforming as a small green orb. "Because their fallen comrades will fight them.."
The woman's brown eyes widened both in wonder and in fear. That amount of power demanded respect, and she bowed her head slightly. It's no wonder the townspeople scattered when they saw him, or why they call him a heretic... She looked back up at the man and squared her shoulders.
"Teach me," she said, the bold words coming out of her mouth before she could stop them. The chaotic part of her mind craved this sort of magic.
"Teach you." He looked down on Cecelia. Was this some kind of bad joke? He shook his head. Letting out a slow chuckle. "Why would I? Why would I grant knowledge to those that do not believe?" He closed his fist around the soul. "You will serve me.. Fool.." He murmured to himself as the green orb in his hand dissappeared, becoming a part of his undead army.
"How can you judge my faith in something I am not yet aware of?" she asked. She furrowed her eyebrows, studying him carefully. She was irritated at him for laughing at her. However, she knew that she had to be patient for once. "Tell me what you believe in; then we'll see whether I agree with you or not. Fair enough?"
"What I believe in?" He sighed slowly. "They're called the teachings of Harmaa." He said as he looked down on the elf, dwarfing her with his own size. "They are very clear. Seek power at any cost. Destroy all those in your way. Offer your kills up to the lady of grey." He chuckled again. "That is how she will grant you more power. If you win her favour."
"That certainly sounds more fulfilling than the life I've had so far," she muttered, her jaw clenching. Did she want power? Yes. Did she want revenge on the town that hated and neglected her? Of course. The more she thought about it, the more her sadistic nature agreed with it. Her lips curled into a small grin.
A small part of her told her to stop.
But she didn't.
"Let me join you, then."
"Good." He nodded. "I am staying here for the night." He said as he walked back in. "You'd want to join me in my room. Since you'll probably be targeted for having this talk with me." The Heretic King was met with distrustful looks and frightened gazes as he stepped in. Yet, no one seemed to make any kind of move towards him.
"I protect those that chose to join me," was what he said to Cecelia.
The woman nodded absentmindedly and walked in behind the juggernaut. While she was a bit intimidated at the thought of sharing a room with him, she understood that it was necessary. Her magic was strong, but not nearly strong enough to fight off anyone who wanted to kill her.
The man's words surprised her. He definitely didn't seem to be the protective type, especially for those who he had just met. However, Cecelia had no choice but to trust him on the matter.
And so she followed him in silence.
Limadan walked through the inn, up the stairs to the room he had rented. He opened the door, walking in. It was a small room. Only one bed and a small nightstand. It seemed a very bland room. Not a backpack or anything of the giant to be seen.
"I do not need sleep." He stated with a sigh, sitting down in the corner. "Name."
"Cecelia Dyrn," she replied, tentatively sitting on the edge of the bed. She looked around the room, but could see nothing of the man's possessions. The woman looked back to him curiously. "Yours?" While she found it odd that he didn't need sleep, she didn't ask about it. But while she slept...what would he be doing? Would he just sit there and watch? Or go out and kill and get more blood on his hands?
"Limadan of Harmaa." He merely replied dryly. He didn't make an effort or a move to even pull off his armor, wearing it as a second, steel skin.
Cecelia wanted to ask more questions, but decided against it. It was a miracle that she wasn't dead, or back at home living a dull life. She didn't care that she'd be looked down upon for being with Limadan. The woman was used to it by now. Ever since that accident three years ago... She shook her head, banishing the memory.
With nothing else to do, she laid down upon the bed and stared up at the ceiling.
"Tomorrow, we move onwards. The journey will be harsh." He said, looking over to Cecelia. "And so will be your trials. Be ready to hide your face," was what he noted.
"Where will we go?" she asked quietly. As she lay there, her long, light hair splayed around her on the blanket. Her brown eyes stared blankly in front of her as she pondered the consequences of the day's choices. Was I right in following this man? Someone I know nothing about?
In her mind waged a war between her neutral good and chaotic evil.
(I s'pose being partially insane causes multiple personalities in Cecelia. I hope that's okay ;-;)
(not nescessarily. But, that's okay if you wanna put it on your toon ^^)
"We will seek others." He took a deep breath, standing up again, a knocking on the door. He put his hand on the know with a slow sigh.
Cecelia sat up, wondering who could possibly want to visit the juggernaut. Her mind was on the alert. It could possibly an enemy, someone who'd want to kill them. ...Or just the person who owns the inn...
(I'm just playing around with her personality and mental state. Her character wasn't very well developed when I thought of her)
He opened the door swiftly, sidestepping as a young man with a dagger stumbled in. A sloppy attack. The young man's face was twisted in anger, stained with tears. A swift kick to the back of his knee forced him to take a knee. The giant twisted his arm, breaking it and placing the dagger against his throat.
"This one is yours. Finish him."
Cecelia nodded, activating her ice magic. Her eyes darkened from brown to black, then faded to white as the temperature in the room dropped drastically. She approached the kneeling man. He looked up at her in fear and anguish, no doubt searching for revenge for his friend. But sometimes vengeance is never achieved,,,
A quick, almost painless death should be satisfactory.
Cecelia placed her hand on the man's chest, freezing his heart and shattering it.
"Good." He said as he opened the door again, throwing the young man out of his room nonchalantly. "That should prove a warning."
"Do you think they'll come back during the night?" Cecelia asked, eyeing the door warily as she stood to her feet. She was a very heavy sleeper; she'd be knocked out cold.
"Mayhaps.." He let out a slow chuckle. "As such is the reason why I do not need sleep." He said as he sat down against the wall again, facing the door. "If they are stupid enough, that is."
"You'd be surprised at the stupidity you can find in this tundra," Cecelia muttered, laying down on the bed once again. She closed her eyes for a few moments, breathing deeply. Killing the man would've traumatized her if it was the first time she had drained the life from someone.
It wasn't the first time she had frozen someone's heart.
"Would I now?" The man snickered a bit. "Seems like this isn't the first time you choked the life out of someone."
The woman's eyes shot open, the blood draining from her face. I didn't mean to.... Although it was a mistake, she couldn't deny that she had enjoyed it. She swallowed thickly and pursed her lips. When she spoke, her voice was ice cold.
"This is not something I wish to talk about, Limadan," she said. It pained her to know that no matter how hard she tried, she'd never be free of her mistake.
Only a slow chuckle left the enourmous brute. "No. Do not weep. Rejoice." He said, looking towards Cecelia. "Killing will make you stronger." He pulled the enourmous blade from his back, resting it on his lap. "And you will become addicted.."
"It is not the fact that I killed that upsets me," she replied quietly, folding her hands on her stomach as she lay. "It is the person. There is one person I killed that I can never forgive myself for." Although she was pained for that one instance, the thought of being addicted to killing was somewhat satisfactory. And she would be stronger as well.
"Whom. And why?" He asked, his curiousity piqued once more. "And forgive.." He chuckled slowly. "It is foolish to think you'd have to forgive yourself. I merely know I am beyond redemption already.."
"Holding a grudge against myself is not good for my mind," she said, refusing to answer his earlier questions. She simply closed her eyes once more, hoping to fall asleep. She'd be able to let go of her mind and life for the moment. She'd be able to rest.
Silence dawned upon the room. He could press the woman for the answers, but, his curiousity had dissipated as soon as it had appeared. Not interesting to persue it further. Yet he arched an eyebrow, regarding her from a distance.
She still was hesitant in her actions.
She had to be broken.
Cecelia embraced the fogginess that enveloped her mind, falling into a deep sleep. The room seemed to disappear, along with the man sitting on the floor. Her mistake was pushed to the back of her brain.
For now, she was alright.
And so, time ticked by, the juggernaut just seething in the corner, watching the door. Not a moment escaping his vigilance. The night slowly passed, sunrise soon dawning.
And when Cecelia would wake up, there'd be two mangled and bloody corpses on the floor, in a puddle of their own dried blood. Limadan was still sat in the corner. As if he didn't even move a muscle.
As early morning came, Cecelia felt herself being drawn back from the depths of slumber. She groaned, wishing she could hold on to her last moments of sleep. The woman soon sat up as her eyes were adjusting to the dim light in the room. As she looked around, she was startled to see two corpses on the ground, their dried blood surrounding them. Two thoughts arose in her mind. First of all, I am one heck of a heavy sleeper. Second of all...
"You couldn't have cleaned up a little?" she mumbled, still a bit grumpy, as it was still early in the morning.
"Complaints?" He looked up at the woman, an eyebrow arching underneath the mask. "I can have their jobs finished and rip your guts out right here." He said, the same cold and emotionless voice resounding from behind his mask.
"But didn't you say you'd protect those that join you?" she asked, challenging him with her gaze. And if he rips my guts out, that would make even more of a mess...
"Respect goes a long way.." He said, merely followed by a dark chuckle. "And there's your result," he gestured at the two corpses on the floor.
Cecelia glanced at the corpses once again, a thought entering her mind. He did protect me while I was dead asleep... The woman was a bit prideful, but she muttered a quick, "Thank you," followed by a loud cough. She looked away from the juggernaut and sighed.
And she recieved a mere snarl in return. "Now. We shall move on." Limadan stood up again, sheathing the enourmous blade and opening the door. The hallway and stairs only littered with more corpses and dried blood as he walked through, trusting Cecelia was still following.
The woman walked silently behind him, trying not to trip over the corpses that decorated the inn. Living in the tundra, she was used to seeing dead bodies. A lot of people died from a lot of different causes. Starvation, hypothermia, and being mauled by the animals were just a few situations that took people to their graves.
As he stepped out, he looked around. A mob of angry peasants surrounding the two. Some of them even trained guards. "Intruiging." Was what the giant uttered. Being outnumbered at least twenty to two.
He glanced at Cecelia. "What do we do? Submit or fight?"
"We fight," the woman replied simply. She didn't see how Limadan could possibly submit to a crowd this small. She had to learn to trust him with her life, and now was a better time than ever.
"Good choice.." With a loud sheen, the giant pulled the enourmous blade from his back. "All at once!" His voice thickened by deep bloodthirst. The crowd closed in on the two, charging forward with a loud and infuriated cry. There were numbrous. There was no way they were going to lose.
Yet, said determination immediatly dissappeared as already three of the crowd had lost their lives within the first seconds. And Limadan seemed to only get warmed up.
Cecelia surged forward, her eyes fading to a ghostly white as frozen daggers appeared in her hands. She thrust them into the chests of their opponents and watched as their bleeding bodies fell to the ground. A memory struck her mind when she saw how their blood seeped into the fresh snow below them. This isn't the time to think about-
She sidestepped a blade just as it bit into the flesh of her arm. The woman grit her teeth and froze and shattered the heart of the one who gave her the injury.
Limadan turned around, surging forward and pulling Cecelia back by her collar, surging forward with a mighty sweep that caused more than one fatality. The sound of flesh ripping and bones shattering only caused the brute to become more relentless in his attacks, a walking tank that took all the blows send at him. Yet, he didn't care in the least, the pain even seemed to just fuel him further.
Cecelia ignored her own cut as she formed more weapons out of ice. She sent arrows towards hearts and cracked open heads with frozen maces. The more she killed, the easier she found it to be. It was so easy to forget that these people had families to support and jobs to go to. And the only person I ever loved is dead, anyways...
And so she barely noticed the cuts, scrapes, and bruises she received as she annihilated as many of her enemies as she could.
And soon, the two stood amidst the massacre they caused. Limadan lifted the blade to his shoulder. He was completely drenched in blood. He raised his left arm, the souls of the fallen slowly ascending from their corpses, bound by dark green chains and tormented into the heretic king's will. A loud, manical laughter resounded as he slowly reaped the souls of the ones they had killed. "You belong to me!"
Cecelia let out a shaky breath, looking down at all of the people they had killed. She felt adrenaline pump through her veins as she thought about the battle. It had gone by in such a blur, leaving her wounded and shaky.
But they were still alive.
And she had never felt so powerful before.
Limadan raised an eyebrow. One was still alive. A soul he couldn't reap. He looked around to see a peasant with a broken leg crawl away. "Do not kill him," he said to Cecelia as he walked over to the wounded man, grabbing him by his hair. With a sharp tug he dragged the survivor towards Cecelia.
Limadan threw the man down infront of Cecelia, pulling out his shortsword and stabbing it through the wounded man's hand. Pinning him to the ground. "Feed. Do not outright kill him."
"Feed?" Cecelia asked, confused about what she was supposed to do. The first thing that came to mind was cannibalism, but she dearly hoped that that wasn't the case. I've already killed so many people today... While she didn't feel disgust, she did feel a small twinge of guilt for what she had done.
It's not my fault, she thought, trying to convince herself. They were foolish enough to attack us in the first place.
"Yes. Feed." He looked down at Cecelia, putting his foot down on the sword in the man's hand, causing a cry of pain. "Strength above all else. You need to survive to attain strength. And regular food will not always be present."
Cecelia's stomach churned with unease, and she stared down at the man that was being pinned to the ground. She grimaced as she lowered herself down to his level and took out a frozen knife of her own. I have to do this. I have to... With one swift movement, she chopped off the man's hand, trying to ignore his screams of pain. Blood surged out of the wound and tainted the snow with red once again.
The woman brought the flesh up to her lips, still hesitant in what she was supposed to do.
He folded his arms, merely watching, not saying a word. The screams nor her hesitation seemed to change his resolute stance.
Do it; eat the man's flesh right in front of his eyes... The sadistic part of her mind urged her to go forward. She swallowed thickly and opened her mouth, trying not to think about what she was about to do. It's necessary for power. Isn't that what you want? The woman bit down on the hand, resisting the urge to puke. However, she couldn't chew it for long before her gag reflex kicked in. Facing away from the juggernaut, she pulled her own hair back as she emptied the contents of her stomach onto the snow.
"I-I can't do it," she gasped, wiping her mouth in disgust. "I can't eat another human being!"
A low snarl left him as Cecelia threw up. He shook his head. "In time." He merely said, pulling the woman up straight again. "It requires a lot of hunger and desperation to get over it." He said with a cold and emotionless voice. Portraying nor dissappointment, nor consolation.
Cecelia nodded, surprised that he did not yell or threaten or punish her. Instead, she wrapped her cloak tighter around herself and tried not to think about what she had almost done. I'll probably end up having to resort to cannibalism anyways. It's only a matter of time until my humanity is wiped away. But isn't that what I've wanted? She shook her head to clear her thoughts, hesitantly looking at the juggernaut.
"Are we going to leave the village now?" she asked.
"Yes. We leave." He said, before turning around, followed by the sway of his cloak, he walked away from the massacre. "We will find others. We will become numbrous and force Harmaa upon the world.."
The woman followed him wordlessly as he led her away from the bloody scene. As much as she wanted to, she didn't look back. It was all behind them now. She decided to venture and ask another question, if only to get her mind off of the day's events.
"Do you have a specific place in mind where we will go first?"
"Wherever the lady of grey wills us to go." He replied idly as he trudged through the snow. Slowly, snowflakes descended upon the pair, slow at first, but it seemed to intensify. Soon enough, they were in a snowstorm, visibility limited to only several meters.
"Remain close! Step into my footsteps!" His enourmous voice thundered above the winds loudly as the heretic king trudged through the storm as if nothing was happening. Providing a lot of cover of the elements for the smaller Cecelia.
Cecelia stumbled a few times as she got used to the rhythm of the man's steps, making sure not to fall or be swept away by the winds. She noticed how dwarfed she was compared to him. While he strode calmly in his outer shell of armor, the woman found it somewhat difficult to navigate through the harsh cold. She hadn't traveled much throughout her life.
Especially not after what happened a few years ago.
But now, she found herself shivering and pulling her cloak tighter around herself.
The giant stopped in his tracks, turning to look at Cecelia. With a slow and clean rip, his own fur cloak was pulled from his back, as he held it out to the woman. "You're no use when you're frozen." He merely stated, offering the fur to her. The sheer size of it would be enough to completely cover Cecelia.
She nodded, taking the fur and wrapping it around herself. It was massive on her, and she was soon enveloped in warmth.
"Thank you," she said quietly. Living in the tundra for all of her life, she felt somewhat weak for not being able to withstand the cold. I suppose I didn't leave the alchemy lab too often...
"As I said. You are useless frozen." Was his formulated and oh so sophisticated response. "The storm should clear soon. Another day of walking and we will have left this tundra."
Cecelia felt somewhat surprised that she was finally leaving this frozen wasteland. A twinge of guilt found its way into her heart. Flynn never got the chance to do this...I took it from him, and because of me, he never got to live a free life.
Shaking her head, she banished the thought.
"Let's move onward, then. We shouldn't waste much time," she said.
"I wasn't planning to." Those were the last words he stated, before proceeding on the travel with complete silence. After several hours, the storm finally passed by, the sun shining down on the frozen wasteland.
And after another several hours, they seemed to pass by a natural border, the frozen tundra making way for rocks and tufts of grass.