It as if everything freezes around him, and he is concerned. Even he seems to find himself stuck in place, feet tingling in the snow the longer he stands, the reindeer behind him and the elves in front of him. He hears the bells before he sees the sleigh, and something inside of him cringes; the fog is penetrating his mind and he finds himself enveloped by it, much of his original self hidden in the cloud. But at the bells some of his old self cringes and cries for him to return, to go to the jolly man and back to his home, to have this please, please be over, let it just be a dream! The bells are so gentle and kind, a stark contrast to the shattered glass and smoky air around them, and he aches to be back in the kind world, but the fog banishes those thoughts and he is back to being cold and dangerous.
"Come now Grinch, it's not the presents you want."
He feels the energy move around him, anger electric in the air between him and the demons that back him. They move forward as one mass, but stop, the jolly man's voice making them freeze once again. He strains to go to the jolly man, to obey the Grinch's orders to attack, to maul, to destroy, but he cannot. The jolly man's voice is kind but he can see that in his eyes there is a hardness, an anger, that is never portrayed in the movies he loves to watch during the winter. His words are a taunt and the Grinch knows that. So when the Grinch leaps down and the demons drag him along with them, it is no surprise, and if he had a bit he would be chomping at it. This is his purpose, he knows it, despite the fact he is barely a teen, and he revels in having such an important purpose. The fog and the demons whisper to him, telling him he's doing good, that the Grinch will reward him for such brave and heroic efforts, and he listens, head craning to get more praise, he wants more.
The Grinch's instructions to go to the North Pole excite him, and the devilish little monsters around him; this town, this neighborhood, are nothing in the grand scheme of things, and he knows this now. These houses are but a useless speck in the universe, but they are important. They have made themselves a worthwhile enemy, and the jolly man is playing directly into their hands without seeming to know it. Leading them back to his headquarters is going to be a grave mistake and he knows it, he can taste it and feel it in the crackling of energy that suddenly surges through the antlers, leaving a warm tingle through his body. He no longer feels the cold that freezes his feet and the dampness that consumes his pajamas. He feels determination and strength and the excitement of destruction; the fog in his head is strong once again, and his lips curl into a devilish smile at its instruction. He knows the Grinch will be pleased with him.
The demons whisper at him that they have to go, to teleport, and so he wishes it with aid of the fog, not knowing where he has brought them but knowing that it is right. It is dark and snowy here, and he licks his lips with anticipation. The fog tells him that he cannot go again just yet but he does not care - the demons are itching for destruction and so is he, and this little town seems to be perfect. So pretty and Christmas-sy it makes him sick, with the trees on the sidewalk all covered in lights, everything illuminated in the happy twinkle of lights.
Disgusting.
The demons are hungry and so is he, and before long there is the glorious sounds of breaking glass and the whoosh of gas escaping from the street lamps; the demons are making noise, something grossly humanoid, and so is he, shattering lights with crushed fists and body weight. The demons swarm as residents are roused, creating such a clamor that contributes to the chaos they are creating, and suddenly everything pauses, the calm before the storm. Then the elves appear out of nowhere and it is hell again, demons rushing in a black tide against the green, shouts and the noises of breaking glass and breaking bones that aren't quite bones, with humans caught up in the magic, taking sides and fighting among themselves. He can feel the confusion in them and he drinks it in, narrowly avoiding a punch to the jaw, instead having it clip against his head, sending him sprawling backward; he cradles his jaw and lets out a growl, something more animal than human, as he rights himself and throws himself into the fray.
He is grabbing and clawing and scratching like an animal, not having any particular target but the fog is urging him forward, pushing him, screaming at him to move. So he obeys - of course he obeys - and the demons follow, tossing elves and humans aside, antlers catching bodies before tossing them into the dirtied and bloodied snow. The demons are telling him to teleport away, out of here, to leave the humans to their destruction and the elves to this mess, and so he tries again but is unsuccessful. The antlers flicker and he knows that the magic isn't there yet, and frustration clouding his mind even further as they beat through the crowd, a dark mass among the colored wave. The demons scream at him again and he does as bid, world going black before erupting in color again.
There are northern lights above them and he comes to the realization that he is on his back, snow seeping into his clothes, but he does not care. The reindeer help him up, black forms illuminated by the jewel-toned lights above, and he brushes himself off - an old habit from the self he can say he was. There were houses but they were far, and he had no desire to approach them, satisfied from their prior bout of destruction. The demons circled and prowled through the snow, their breath floating up in black plumes in the otherwise whitened landscape.
Had his intentions been different, he would've been enraptured with the stunning scene before him. The town is bathed in a warm, yellow-orange glow as the lights from the sky and the stars illuminate off of the snow, creating a starry landscape they have the pleasure to stand on and view at their pleasure. Demons and fog do not care for such pretty scenes of beauty, but his inner child is awash with joy and amazement. The darker things only want the magic but the child wants the scene, and he is torn between the two, the darkness more powerful than his malleable self.
He is alerted by a crunching that sounds so unusual, so unlike the sounds he is now accustomed to, and so he turns, sharply, to face the newcomer. His mind instantly says polar bear but it is nothing of the sort, at least seven feet tall at his spine and claws that could destroy a town. There is no face but he can feel its eyes on him, head lowering with a bellow that is more like thunder than like bear, and he knows it wants to charge him. The demons swarm him in an instant and they are ready alongside him, eager to taste this bear-monster's blood.
There seems to be a pattern of calm before the storm and this time is no different; the tension could be cut with a knife as both sides wait for the other's move, with neither willing to relent. Yet they charge at the same time, heads and bodies clashing and swarming the bear-thing as it tears them off with impossibly sharp teeth, somehow grasping their less-than-tangible bodies and tossing them away. He rushes in and the antlers ignite, setting the bear-thing's paws alight with the blackest of flames without a conscious command from him, but from the fog. The bear-thing rears up in pain but it only seems to heighten its rage, and it charges with more force, pawprints black and bloody in the snow.
The antlers fire again and he is nearly thrown back from the force, and once again the bear-thing stops and rears up, murder in the eyes he cannot see. It charges again but the demons attack with a stronger force, their black masses turning the white pelt dark as they attack him. The fog urges him to go, to leave this place and so he runs, he obeys, and after a moment the demons follow, a black horde swirling across the white landscape. They transport again as the bear-thing charges once more, and he can feel the air behind him split as the massive claws catch on his clothes and rip them before he can fully escape, fully leave. The demons know when they've met their match and so does the fog, and this bear-thing is more powerful than they thought.
They appear in the center of the North Pole and the demons swirl around him, making a cacophony of noise that is somehow pleasing to his ears, and he smiles, a Grinch-like smiles that curls up his lip and shows his teeth. The fog plays with his eyes, making them gray and dark and stormy like the essence of the demons around him, and he feels triumphant. He sees the elves approaching but he does not care, for he knows the Grinch is here. He demons are laughing, somehow he knows that it is the sound they mean to make, and he laughs too, the sound just as wrong as the noise of the beasts around him. He feels at home in their inky presence, with the antlers filling him with a strength he didn't know he had.
So he laughs, and so he knows: this is how the Grinch steals Christmas.
places traveled: Westborough, Massachusetts (my pretty little town), Attu, Greenland
magic used: two bursts of fire magic
enemies met: polar bear-like monster with no face