"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
As far as Fox is concerned, magic is magic. Where it comes from is really of no import. That his came from Christmas is not something he had ever really bothered to dwell upon before. To him, it simply is. Magic that courses through his veins in the same way it does through hundreds of others all across Beqanna, just as it had through his father. Where his father had gotten it from is a rather fun tale, but as far as he can tell, it is just more of the fickleness of the magic that makes this land what it is.
Pure happenstance as it were. And the fact that his father seems to have impressed the fairies in some way. He had simply inherited it, much as he had inherited the ruddy color of his coat and the copper of his eyes.
And maybe, that is why Lynx is so grumpy. Because she doesn’t believe in the magic of Christmas.
Granted, few here have ever heard of it before. It is not something commonly celebrated in these lands. But anyone in Beqanna should know there are thousands of lands beyond, with an endless variety of creatures and magics and worlds just waiting to be explored. Who’s to say such a magic couldn’t exist?
Clearly it does or Fox would not have it.
She seems quite distracted by something else she had clearly gleaned from Fox’s rather open mind however: the fact that his gift allows him control of ice and snow. Apparently thatis something worthy of note by her standards.
But Fox being Fox can never let well enough alone.
”Oh yes,” he responds brightly, amber eyes widening in charming delight. ”It’s really quite fun.” And, in the spirit of that fun, a swirl of snow and ice begins to form a flurry around her. His gaze grows intensely focused, small body taut as he carefully puts his powers to use. The snow and ice coalesce onto her chin, forming rather long, dangling icicle covered in a thick layer of fluffy white snow that quite accurately depicts a long, white beard.
”There,” he quips proudly, terrible, teasing grin back on his lips. ”You look fabulous.”
He manages to keep himself in check until those last words before losing himself in a quite astonishing fit of giggles.
she's the bright hot sun in the cold night she's the cold black darkness in the starlight
She watched as he concentrated, as the magic began to pool in his body, as he focused his energy. He may have not said anything, but his intentions were clear—his very thoughts screaming through her head. She took a stalking step forward. “Don’t you dare,” she snarled viciously, but the words were barely out of her mouth before the deed was done, the icicles attached to her chin. Her eyes lit. “You impudent child.”
Frustrated, she reached down to try and hit the icicles at the ground, hoping to dislodge them, but instead of shattering, they withstood the hit. Her teeth rattled and a headache instantly formed behind her eyes and she cursed colorfully, shaking her head and feeling the cold from her chin finding her mouth.
“You…” her voice shook with anger and she stalked closer “you get rid of these right now.”
How she wished to have some sort of power beyond the ability to read minds—a power that was more curse than anything right now with his amusement thick in the air around her. She peered into his mind and for a brief moment, she saw herself—small and fluffy with the long white beard of ice.
And then—well, then, what happened was completely unexpected.
She laughed.
A bright, pretty sound that rippled through the air, her own amusement brightening her face. It dislodged from her throat and made her belly hurt but she snapped it off quickly, her dual-colored eyes growing wide with shock. For a moment, she stood there, legs wide, breathing heavily, before she looked up and fixed him with her gaze. For once in her life, completely and totally unaware of what to do.
This didn’t happen to her. She didn’t find things funny—let alone at her own expense.
The picture of her there with that long beard dangling from her chin is more than Fox can bear. To add to that, the absolute insult thickening her tone sends him into guffaws of unrestrained laughter until his breath is coming short and his sides ache.
With her attempts to rid herself of Fox's impromptu gift unsuccessful, it seems she can no longer help herself. The sound of merriment coming from her lips instead of scorn, derision, or offense is enough to shock Fox back to reality.
Her laugh is a lovely sound, even if it is cut short by her own surprise. The sound of it causes a wide, knowing grin to curl Fox's red lips as delight widens his nut brown eyes. ”See!” he bursts out in his bright, happy voice. ”That wasn’t so bad, was it? I knew you had it in you!”
With that goofy grin pasted to his lips, he calls back the ice and snow attached to her chin, forcing it to disappear as though it had never been. His goal completed, he felt no need to add insult to injury, though now that he knew she could laugh, he finds he rather likes it.
His entire goal in life now to see her laugh again, he cannot help the next teasing quip that falls from his lips however. ”And maybe next time I'll even add a mustache. Or maybe some eyebrows. Wouldn't that be nice?”
she's the bright hot sun in the cold night she's the cold black darkness in the starlight
She cannot say that she appreciated the way he laughed at her, the way his eyes lit up at the very sight of her in pain, but she also struggled to muster the same fury. It had dimmed in his presence, which in and of itself was frustrating, but even that was mild—fingers failing to find purchase on the edges of annoyance.
Still, she stuck to her guns, trying to grab whatever scraps of dignity were left to her, and she lifted her chin, shaking her slender body as if to rid herself of whatever snow had clung to her.
“Who is to say that there will be a next time?”
Never mind the fact that part of her warmed beneath his thoughts, the idea that someone could find her laugh a nice sound; never mind the fact that any rage has long since cooled in her belly. Lynx knew well enough to know that this world was not kind to those like him. She could not afford to be soft, vulnerable.
But that didn’t stop the slight mischievous glint in her dual-colored eyes. That didn’t stop the way the corner of her mouth curled into barest of amusements and then stubbornly pulled down in a straight line once more. “I think you would look rather magnificent with a mustache,” she sniffed haughtily, stealing a glance out of the corner of her eyes to study him. Maybe he wasn’t that terrible, wasn’t the bad, after all.
Not that she would ever admit that—not even to herself.
Another half-smile, quickly erased, as she straightened her shoulders.
”Oh, there will be a next time.” He sounds so sure of himself that is no doubt to irk her in some way. He likes to think he knows her well enough by now to know that at least. He grins, a bit wickedly, eyes twinkling merrily in that way he has. ”You can’t think I’d let you get away that easily? Besides, we live in the same place.”
She doesn’t seem to hate him so much as she did before, and there, for the briefest of moments, he sees a bit of a smile threatening to curve her lips. He simply could not rest until he made her smile again. It is his whole purpose in life, to make others smile. She would be no exception. And despite his carefree demeanor, one would quickly find that when Fox set his mind to something, he could be quite persistent. A stubbornness that would no doubt serve him well in the future.
She might wish to conquer the world with her serious (grumpy) determination, but he would conquer the world through happiness.
But that is neither here nor there at this particular moment.
Fox finds himself chuckling at her next words, crisp though they might. He tips his head, as though seriously considering her statement. Perhaps because he is, in fact, seriously considering it. ”You know, I really think I would.”
He frowns for a moment, as though in concentration, before pausing and grinning widely. ”Well, if you want to see me in a mustache, you’ll just have to make sure you see me again.” His words are said triumphantly, as though any future meetings are a certainty. Which, in his mind, of course they are.
”I should go anyway. Lots of stuff to do.” With that, he turns to trot bouncily away, pausing only once to glance briefly back at her. ”Until next time!”
He kind of hopes she might follow, but the more sensible part of him knows that she won’t.
