With the image of Snowflake's mangled eye stuck in your head and the command of the glass bitch ringing in your ears, you can't stand to be in this forsaken forest any longer. You scream to the heavens, kick a tree or ten on your way out, and then start galloping. Even so, your pace seems agonizingly slow. You want to run away and it almost seems like you're running backwards- backwards towards two idiotic leaders, backwards towards commands and rules and regulations, backwards towards a cage that will try to hold you. So you run because you need to think and you can't think here. Not where revenge is a dirty word and where punishment is as common as a rainbow colored squirrel. Do they not understand? Do they not get it? You scream again and push yourself harder.

Krieger, Basin. Krieger, Basin. Krieger, Basin. It is your mantra as you run. Krieger- breath in. Basin- breath out. You forget a lot of things, but you've made a promise to yourself that you won't forget this. Not all the drugs in the world could make you forget who you are going to destroy and where you're going to find him. You'll leave his blood at the Basin door if you have to, underneath that towering statue that guards the mountain pass. A warning to the unicorns of the north that you are not to be messed with. But not now. You need to think. You need to clear your head. Anger is a great motivator, the best motivator in fact, but you have to know what you're getting in to. You have to know how you're going to approach this. So where do you think, where do you think?

Your first inclination is the beach, but the beach is not a good choice. Your drugs lie there, waiting for you to indulge. You need a clear(ish) head in order to plan whatever it is you're going to plan. Where can you go that is quiet, lonely, desolate? It comes to you and you angle your course, slowing your pace as you begin to leave the falls behind you. Your body is heavy with sweat and foam, your lungs burning. A trot carries you on as you try to regain your composure, bringing you to the lip of Helovia's Heart. You slow again to a walk and descend into the bowels of the earth.

The damp air, warmed by the boiling magma, hits you at once and you revel in the click of your metal shoes against the stony ground. Those shoes will soon be crashing into the flesh of a beast who deserves nothing more than a slow and agonizing death. Even as you walk, a plan comes to your mind. Images of torn abdomens and organs spread about flash into your head. Evisceration... you like it. A slashed trachea, so that his screams are silent, crushed testicles so that he knows some of the pain that his rape of Kiara caused, broken limbs so that he cannot run away. Oh, a murderer would cringe to see the images that you imagine.

Almost without thinking, you find yourself on the border of a room you know all to well. Sand and a black eternity... Funny that you should return to a room that has memories of you and Elsa already stored within. You step into the blackness, turning back to look at the receding light, but you have no fear of this place. There is nothing that can hurt you more than seeing Elsa's ruined eye and ruined body. The darkness swallows you and you breath a sigh of relief. You can find peace here, if only for a moment.

@[Elsa]

Oxy

Everything was spinning out of control, and her world was turning black. Spots covered her eyes, and Kiara was not in any mind either. Seele was calm, but Oxy and her weren’t on the best of terms. It was then you hear the scream, the ever-familiar voice. It was one thing to hear her sister’s screams, her mothers, and her fathers, even the guards. This voice was another world entirely. This voice had begun to kill her, inside and out. Her ears lay flat against her skull, and her eyes slammed shut. There was nothing she could do. She had fucked up once, and it seemed that no matter what she did, all she could do was cause pain. She heard the movement, the kick of dirt, and the thuds that followed.

There, Elsa. Are you happy now? Are you happy you’ve caused nothing but pain and anguish to the one being that might actually have an inkling of care for you? Are you happy now that you’ve completely and utterly screwed over someone you actually have feelings for? Are you happy?. Eyes still closed, she could feel the welling and pressure behind her eyes. The tears threatened to come forth, stinging the wound that now tainted her left side. She could feel the knot in her throat, which kept her from screaming out and begging him to come back. Her eyes finally opened, to full with salty tears to stay shut. They ran down her face, a river of all the things she wanted to keep hidden. The mask had been shattered, and she couldn’t stay here. It wasn’t safe for anyone in this situation. So she did the only thing she could do, she blindly followed.

It was like that day, back in the plague, repeated over again. The day they had sparred, and the first time she had hurt Oxy. As she ran, she flung her head back and forth. Branches tore at her face, leaving small lacerations around her cheeks and eyes. The pain didn’t matter though; she just couldn’t let him get away. She had to hang onto the one shred of hope she had left.

He seemed to be moving at the speed of light. No matter how hard she pushed, he kept getting further and further out of reach. The wind bit at her eyes, and the tears just kept falling, like a rainstorm in spring. The clouds were endlessly filled with memories, and they were finally free, they weren’t going to stop until they were all out. Her mom was right; maybe they should’ve killed her at birth. Then she wouldn’t be such a burden. She attempts to call out to him, but her breath seemed to be stolen. She was heaving with the effort, but could feel nothing. The fire in her legs, and the ice in her lungs were numbed by the insurmountable pain in her heart.

He keeps getting further and further away. All that mattered was getting to him, No one else. History began to repeat itself, a cold trail following her footsteps, her tears turning to ice as they hit her skin. Her body was even covered in a light frost despite feeling as if she was burning alive.

Her legs were rhythmically pounding, only to find him slipping into the cave that months ago harbored incredible pain and emotions. "Oxy!" Her voice cracked like sand on the way out, knowing all to well that it was too quiet for him to hear. Still she moved, the heat of the heart melting away the frost, leaving her looking as if she had just jumped into a pond. As her hooves hit the familiar, stony, slope-y entrance, she paused, a sharp intake of breath filling the otherwise silent cavern. The faint sound of metal grating against stone suddenly faded. It was in that moment, she knew where he was going.

Her hooves slipped along the sloped entrance to the caves, catching awkwardly on the displaced rocks before finally finding her footing on the stone floor. The previously crowded caverns were abandoned, once bursting with life, was now empty. She couldn’t help but think it the horrid metaphor for life, you’re good when you’re needed, but without a purpose, practically useless. Much like her, really.

Blindly she felt about, pushing her body against the caves, feeling her way around, until a large, gaping opening blossomed before her. She stood, frozen for a moment, completely incapable of moving. Sand spread out for eternity, and the roof eaten by darkness.

A cautious step down, and the cool winds of the cavern caused her to shiver. Why are you shivering Elsa? The cold never bothered you. But she knew he was here. He had to be, right? As she stepped onto the sand, it clung to her wet, cold body. She moved a few more steps inwards, towards the heart. It was her fault. He shouldn’t have to be in pain. He should be able to not worry. It was all her. "I-I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." Her voice was defeated, but she meant it. Her world was crashing down around her, but she couldn't let him take her fall. She was an Eve that was desperately trying to save Adam. "Oxy..." She paused for a moment. "I can't let you get hurt. I'm sorry." She knew he could hear, she could tell he was here. If he didn't want to talk, then he would just have to listen.

"Talking"

Elsa

“Snowflake.” The word is almost not a word, almost a breath, almost a sigh. But you say her name because she's here, she followed you, and somehow it makes you happy. Or at least a little less miserable. In your rage, were you really so blind and deaf as to not notice her following behind her? You suppose not, but you never suspected that anyone would care to follow you out of that place. After all, who gives one rats ass about the Addict? You might be the general now, pretending to be big and important, but that doesn't mean you've gained any respect. You're just the god damned jester still. Someday you'll kill them all.

But Snowflake, here in the darkness... she came, she cared. Not even Sugar Lips has come for you lately, or at all, since her failed attempt at taking the crown. You push her memory aside. You thought you had cared for her, you had almost dreamed that she had cared for you too, but now... now it seems that you were wrong. It seems that you were just pulled into her sugar dreams, just like everyone else. A pawn in her disastrous game of chess- just one more loss to add to your long list. You're good at nothing except fighting, destroying... How could anyone really care for you?

And yet, you come full circle in your thoughts, because someone must care for you. Elsa came, she's here...

You move towards her, or a least to where you think she is based on her her voice, and reach out your nose. You, reaching out? But you have to. You feel an uncontrollable urge to comfort her from the destruction that has been wrought upon her and the strange words she is saying to you. She's sorry? She didn't mean to hurt you? No... She's got it all wrong. “It was him, not you,” you whisper, though your gravely voice still carries. All the while, your nose reaches for flesh. Her neck, her shoulder, whatever you might bump into. Who knows, in this forsaken darkness. “I'll make him pay Snowflake... I should have been there.”

There it is- you admit your failings. You should have been protecting her and you weren't. You're the general, you only have one job and that is to keep your herd safe. You failed on all counts, but you can get revenge. “I don't care what the glass bitch says,” you inform her then, though your voice is still soft... tender, even? “I'm going to make him pay for this.” And then you do something entirely out of character. Your nose, which has hopefully already butted against her, reaches up and outwards before angling down. You try to capture her, to pull her close, to press your chest against her body and save her from whatever evils plague her. You're sweaty, damp, disgusting to the touch, perhaps, but it seems so important in this moment that she be next to you... against you. “I'll never let anything like this happen to you again.”

It's a big promise, but a promise that you intend to keep, if you can. And somewhere in your head, you feel distant memories and current happenings mixing together again. Kellian or Elsa? Home or Helovia? Your head is swimming, but for once it is not because of drugs. Enough is in your system to prevent you from detoxing, but not enough to make you high. No, this is your own mind conjuring emotions because it wants to, because it needs to. You're trying to classify your emotions, to place them in a box, to manage them, to contain them, but... but you don't know how to classify what you're feeling. And so your mind pulls memories from the past to remind you, to tell you... And you fight them all the way, but still you try to hold Elsa close to you. Past and present, all in one, and you want to forget everything but you also want to remember.

Because maybe you need her as much as you think she needs you. Because maybe, just maybe, physical strength is not enough to make it in this world.

@[Elsa]

Oxy

She still doesn’t know what she’s doing here. As the words overflow from her mouth like a stupid child, she’s afraid he doesn’t even want her. Everything has thus far just ended in disaster, and she can no longer rely on herself. She felt like a child thrown into a dark room, with no security blanket or nightlight. The world had stripped her of the comforts she once leaned on, and now she was bearing all. Nothing was hidden anymore. Even her words lingered in the air like a cry for help. Heck, she was too afraid to breath for shattering the one moment that has not yet attempted to kill her.

Yet, with one misstep, or one misspoken word, the only good thing in life could walk away. Just like that, everything stripped from her. I suppose that was what scared Elsa the most, knowing that one being held the power to make and break her life. He had been the one to keep her sane, he had been the one to let her have a little fun, and he had been the one that had provided her with a shred of a family. It may not have been perfect, but he was perfectly imperfect. It would kill her to just let him walk away; she couldn’t let him carry the weight of her mistakes.

The more the words lingered, the more she began to shudder and shake. There was no real grasp of time for her, but it felt like an eternity. Her eyes are closed and tears are threatening to pour over… and then the voice. Oh god the voice.

His first words had still left her fearful; it was him, but it was still her. That was what he failed to see, she deserved everything that had been handed to her. Her mouth opened to speak, to defend the one that had hurt her, but then, it all became real. She felt a pressure on her shoulder, a light, soft pressure. It was then that her entire world became suspended. Her voice was taken from her throat, and everything stopped. Her shuddering halted, her ragged breaths suspended, and she could not move a single muscle in her entire body.

The experience was incredibly heartbreaking, and revolutionary. For so long she had been the one comforting, for so long she had been on the opposite side of all of this. His voice momentarily numbs the thoughts, and she can’t help but feel a little more normal. Her body heaves as she splutters for the air that had been cut off, before returning to calm, slow breaths. Her muscles melt beneath him, like a sad, useless being. His voice just… making her feel wanted, making her feel special. Even as he speaks of getting his revenge, Elsa can’t tell him no. She understands now, she understands. He was doing just what she would’ve done, but she had become so numb to everything. While trying to please everyone else, she had forgotten to take care of herself.

And that was that. Elsa had never been cared for. Care was always given, but had never been received. She didn’t know how to react to this gift- a gift, that when given by someone like him, meant so much more. And she had to accept it; because it was a gift so rare and precious, she realized it was a moment she had to covet with great care. And so she stood frozen, cold, and damp. Hair awkwardly clinging to her neck, and looking like a complete and utter fool for not knowing what to do. But he showed her.

In an unexpected movement, she was swiftly pushed beneath his neck- the warmth of his body radiating around her like a thousand suns. He had unleashed the most precious promise, and she couldn’t keep it in. Her eyes exploded again, raining a thousand years of bottled up emotions. She pressed her body into him, using all the support she could get. She realized she could no longer stand-alone; she can’t do this without help. Her head softly reached around to press against his shoulder and yet she still feels like she can’t get close enough. Moments of silence passed, and she was still shuddering and crying a small whimper occasionally slipping from her mouth. "I-I-I..." Her voice trails off, into another fit of tears. A few more moments pass, and it felt like she was suspended, unable to admit the truth. "I need you." She finally whispers into his shoulder, resting her muzzle gently against it if she hadn't already scared him off. "Just promise me you won't leave." She mutters again not quite sure what to do. Leave was a general term- she didn't want him to leave here and go away, she didn't want him to leave and get hurt, she didn't want him to leave her. All she knows is she needs him. She needs him here... with her.

"Talking"

Elsa

The darkness makes it easier because you can lose one of your senses. If you don't have to see the dirty walls, the grungy sand, the way Snowflake is looking at you, the way you reach out towards her... then it doesn't have to be real. It can all be a figment of your imagination, a mystery that never happened, a whisper on the wind that disappears when gusts start blowing. But there is no wind down here in the caves, no tendrils of air to carry away whatever it is you're dealing with. Even the darkness cannot save you from your emotions. You are alone with them... Alone with Elsa.

And your nose has met her hide, touched her, pressed against her. Do you know what you're doing? Do you know what emotions you have dragged up within her? Doubtful, you don't even know what emotions it's dragged up within yourself. A touch, a willing touch that you provided. Who else? Nobody. Not since... Murderer. Blight. Slayer. Banished. No goodbye. The memories whirl through your head with ever-increasing speed. But why does she freeze? Why doesn't she move? Why does your touch make her as frozen as she looks? You almost back off, sorry that you ever tried to comfort her at all, but then she changes. Melting would be an appropriate word.

And she folds into you in the darkness, collapses into your chest, and you find that you enjoy the feeling. And what you thought was a brotherly protection for a younger sister begins to blur as your heart crosses a line you did not realize was an option for you. Infatuation for something pretty or is this more? You want to compare it to what you felt for the Phantom Seeker, to know what is real and what is fake and what is imagined and what is born within you. For the first time since you agreed to join the Asylum, you actually feel like you need counseling. You need someone to sort through your feelings with you because for all the smarts you have, you know nothing of your own heart.

And though you are stressed beyond all belief, for once you find that you do not need to reach for your leather bag. The call of the plants is sweet, but in this moment in the pitch black it is not a necessity. You have a different sort of drug cuddled up under your chin, pressed against your chest, in an embrace you never would have imagined yourself in just a few short hours ago. Can time and darkness really change so much? You dig your hooves into the sand, just in case your body suddenly spasms and decides you need to run. But you don't feel like you need to run. You feel at peace, strange peace, since linger thoughts of evisceration and destruction still linger in the corners of your mind.

And it is luck you did dig your hooves in, because as her tears come you stiffen in much the same way she did moments ago. But her head presses against your shoulder, accepting your sweaty embrace, and you are lost again, floating in the darkness, but you think it might be alright. You lift your head, but only far enough to let you lip at her mane. The motion is jerky, unpracticed, hesitant. It is rough around the edges, rather like yourself.

I need you. Your ears splay out and you stop playing with her mane. Promise you that you won't leave her? Once again you're thankful for the darkness. Your eyes grow wide and you shudder. But how can you balk at the princess who has lost her eye? How can you deny her this request when you have promised her everything else? But can you put yourself on the line to be hurt again? Can you deal with the agony that will come when she wants to run away? And what happens when she figures out what you not leaving means. Does she understand that you protect the things that are yours. Does she understand that protecting means being there. Will she be able to handle the over-bearing attitude or will you hear screams of how she needs you to give her space so she can breath? She says the words, but she doesn't know what she asks.

“You don't want that,” you answer her, but it is not a denial. It is a simple statement, a sentiment that you're certain is true. Because even though you know what type of protector you would be, and even though you know the types of relationships you create are pushy and claustrophic, and even though you know these things are wrong... you also know that you can't stop. You are an addict, with an addictive personality. If not your drugs, then something else. And if Snowflake asks you not to leave her, then she is asking you to take her on as your new addiction. You know she doesn't want that and yet... you try to return your lips to her mane. She doesn't want this at all, but you will give it her if she says she does, because even by the moment you grow weak. Her nose upon your shoulder is your kryptonite.

@[Elsa]

Oxy

She was in an unpredictable state at this moment. She felt as if she could cry, explode, scream, jump and die at all the same time. It was unsettling and wonderful, all at the same time. Though, it seemed that maybe he had other ideas.

His comforting caress stopped at the sound of her words and she cringed towards him. Her muscles contracted again, and her eyes slammed shut, just wanting this moment to go away. Had she really just screwed everything up? Did he still just see her as… nothing? All she wanted now was for him to touch her, to let her know it wasn’t all still the same as before. But honestly, how could she expect him to change? To do so would be exceptionally greedy, and she could never ask that of him. It was what made him… him. The only thing changing would do was hurt them both.

Still the questions were lingering in the air, threatening ever so quietly to kill her. She then pressed her nose harder against his shoulder, inhaling a shuddering breath as he spoke. The words were vague, but she seemed to think they lingered on the side of rejection. She wanted to cry, but she couldn’t, her reservoir was run dry. So all she could do was stand there, and wait for him to leave.

But he didn’t, he stood there. Her eyes were still closed as he lipped at her mane again. She shuddered and pressed into him again; honestly surprised she still hasn’t literally pushed him over. But this time, before she says anything, she cranes her neck up, trying to reach for his mane. He’s taller than her, and much bulkier, so reaching in the dark so only assumes she’s going to grab a few, long strands. But, she supposes it’ll get his attention, and that’s what she wants, his undivided attention for this one fleeting moment.

She clears her throat a little, unsure of what to say. Will he push her away? Will he run if she speaks? Or is he waiting…. There were so many variables that could alter the outcome of this situation. She feels as if she is gently treading on a glass floor that’s stretched above a canyon. But, she must speak, she cannot stay quiet forever, and she sure as hell can't run. Well, realistically she doesn't want to run, she just wants to stay here, curled up against him forever. But finally her voice speaks. "Please..." Her voice is nothing more than a whisper, had it not been quiet as the dead down here, it would've been lost in the noises of the world. It's childish in and of itself, but she can explain no further. He took the words away from her, and she was dumbed down to only simple words. One could argue it's more effective, but she feels like an idiot.

So she stood quietly, secretly wanting to shove her head into the sand to hide. Even the darkness couldn't keep her from feeling like a complete and utter idiot. The only thing she could think was- please don't think i'm weird.

"Talking"

Elsa

In the blackness, these moments seem to last an eternity. You don't know if minutes or hours or days have passed by. You don't know if you've grown old and gray, or perhaps if time has moved backwards and you are but a babe again, with legs too long for your own body. All you know is what you can sense- Elsa's breathing, Elsa's touch. An embrace you never meant to offer but that happened anyways. The cold air on your skin, the sand beneath your hooves... But what of your heart? You can feel it beat, feel each pulse as it presses blood through your body. Can you feel the emotion within it?

She likes what you do when you lip at her mane, pull at the strands, feel the hairs in your mouth the same way you feel your drugs. Does she taste like addiction?

You press back against her, if only to keep yourself upright, her insistent closeness threatening to dump you into the sand. And maybe you should be? Why shouldn't the two of you lay together in the sand, why shouldn't the two of you tumble down to the ground and lay close together, meld your bodies into one? The idea surprises even yourself, as you have it, but you find your lips moving even while you do not ask them to. Your teeth begin to graze against the crest of her neck, nibbling against her flesh, if she doesn't run. Its a gentle touch, light, shaky. Are you afraid? Is Elsa?

And then she's pulling at your mane, the motion sharp rather then tender, and you stop your busy mouth, letting your nose rest against her flesh but not moving. You listen, you hear only breathing. Breaths, shaky breaths. Are they yours or hers? They're coming from your nose, your chest. Why do you shake? What are you afraid of? But you know what you're afraid of before she says it, and then she does. Please. And you sigh, because you finally have words for what you're thinking and it kills you inside, a little.

You don't want to be her nightmare, you don't want her to wake screaming at night because she fears you. You want her to feel like she does now, whatever that feeling that she has might be. But if you 'don't leave her' as she asked you, if you become hers to watch over... Will she see you watching from the shadows? Will she notice the way you follow her about? Will she begin to hate you when you smother her, chase off her friends, keep all of her time to yourself, make her your new addiction? She'll hate you. She'll hate you and it will destroy you. And this is what you are afraid of.

But you can't say no to her now, because she's begging you and here... here in the darkness, it just feels right. “Okay,” you rumble softly, your teeth beginning their soft grazing motion down her neck again. “I promise,” you finish, and you wonder if she'll notice that your lips and teeth move down her neck. Slowly, oh so slowly, they move their way towards her withers. Will she let you? Will she want you? “I won't leave.” What have you done?

@[Elsa]

Oxy

The words… they slip as soft as satin from his lips. All she can do is wilt then. She fell into his words, and his promises with such fervor that if she would ever hit the ground; she would shatter into a million pieces of nothing. The tears that had thus far been avoided started falling slowly from eye and wound. But she wasn’t quaking, and she wasn’t shaking. In fact, she felt like she was on fire. If she could change 50 shades of red and gold she would’ve. She was burning up on the inside, and for the first time, it was for the right reasons.

The only thing that keeps her from floating away was his touch. The trail he leaves along her neck seems to be spontaneously combusting compared to the rest of her. Yet, in reality they were still in this dark, cold cave of secrets. The tears eventually begin to fade, as she moves her muzzle back to his shoulder, gently caressing the space there. It was something she had found comfort in, and no doubt would become her own drug.

But still out to seek her, were the memories of her own doing. It seemed so long ago, yet so close in time, that he was weeping tears for another. She wanted to ask, but she knew how much it would hurt him. Would she ever be able to ask though? Would this woman that caused him so much pain return? And what if she did? Even in a moment so perfectly sculpted, a Satan lurked not far away. She hoped, at least, that he was contented and happy. She was used to the questions, and the ceaseless degradation of her self.

She snorted softly, eventually pulling away to look at him. A lot had happened, but yet, they still couldn’t look at each other. She reached out softly, trying to put her muzzle against his own, so he would have to look- she would have to look. Elsa has to look at someone she has so desperately fallen for (in love, almost, though she’s afraid of saying the words) and he has to look at a girl, whom he has no promised his life away to, in a sense. He had promised, and for some reason to her it seemed like he was bound now, though words were a fragile bond.

She’s trying to calm her breath now to speak. To tell him the truth, she needed to tell him, to ask him before he left. She had to know some things, especially of the girl. She was trying to be tender, trying to prove the last thing she wanted to do was hurt him. But, she had to know.

All these questions that bounced around in her own head made her wonder what was in his. Did he wonder of her past, did he think she was the convicted killer she was, did he know that her parents never wanted her, did he know since birth she has been slated to die?

But finally her words slip from her mouth, shaky, and quiet. Never before had she been so afraid. In fact, he had replaced every fear that had ever before haunted her. He was her new fear, and desire. "I'm not perfect, Oxy." Honestly, saying his name came out in a strangled fit of desire and fear. It burned her throat as it came out, leaving behind a sweet taste. She closes her eye for a moment. "I just... I need to know if..." Her voice trails off, thinking of the other one- The past. She stutters looking for words before failing. "Just promise me if she comes back you'll let me down easy." There. If he still had feelings, and she did return, then this was his permission. The last thing she wanted to do was chain him. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I just. I needed to say it. I just, since then, I'd been thinking. Thinking that only something that real can cause that much hurt, and I don't want your past to come find you and kill you like mine did." Her own mother had possessed their own leader to tell her she was practically alone. She was never supposed to be there. How cruel is that? And she wasn't about to let him succumb to a past that was more than able to return, it seemed. There she was done. She breathed inward quietly, closing her eyes and hoping he hadn't moved in rage, hoping he hadn't gotten a sudden change of mind.

She just wanted to be loved, whether or not it was temporary, she did not care. She just wanted him to move on, unscathed, and for her to be gifted with something she would otherwise never get the gift of receiving. She was just trying to protect herself, she had a knack of ending most good things.

"Talking"

[ooc :: so uhh, she wanted to talk because yah she's all yah. D; so if oxy blows up at her for saying that she'll be sad but understand she just needed to say it. ;-; and this thread is <3 either way, she's done talking basically after this unless Oxy asks her questions. :3]
@[Oxy] || just tagged cause its been awhile.

Elsa

Blackness suits you. Do you feel the same fire that she does as your lips caress her or do they move out of some sense of testosterone-driven longing. Your mind dares not broach the subject, instead letting your lips trace what line they choose while you ignore the questions of your own that plague you. Little do you know what secrets stir in the pale woman's mind, what histories she dares to remember, what painful thoughts she trudges through. Are you as frightened to ask yourself the question that lurks just over the horizon of your brain as she is to ask you the questions she has? More so. You dare not ask for fear that the answer will mean losing more of yourself to this woman than you can dare to.

Her tears, her lips on your shoulders. For any other, they would mean a beating of the worst kind... For Snowflake you endure, even welcome, the touch. But she pulls away, releasing you from her hold, for a moment that seems too long. The question lurks closer to the edge of the cliff, daring to spill over into your consciousness. You stave it off, but only by the narrowest margins, as her muzzle reaches back to find your own. Her touch is soft velvet, but it could break sailors heart. You blow softly, a locoweed breath daring to mingle with her own, more worthy air. What does she want?

The answer comes a moment later and you retract your nose, only a hair's distance, ears flicking towards her, just to listen. You still linger close, so close. Are you touching her or is that electricity between you, in the air. Is it so hard to tell? But there is pain in her words. Pain you have caused? Perhaps. You cannot promise to be a perfect friend, a perfect... lover? Is that what you dare call yourself? Has that question finally tipped over the edge? Have you finally given voice and answer to the feeling that lingers? Whatever you are, you will never be a knight in shining armor. A knight, perhaps, but your armor is dented, rusted, dingy. You are not special... you are only you.

“She's dead to me,” you respond when she's done, little tenderness in your voice, but the gruffness is not because of Elsa. The thought of Kellian, for surely that is who she speaks of... You killed Kellian when you mauled Elsa in the snow, when you screamed of her in the darkness, when you drowned her memory in locoweed. She exists in your past, but only as a mistake. Whatever her motives, whatever kept her from you... If she cared, she would have come to you. Or, at the very least, would have had the decency not to stand beside that beast of a man as you were forced away from her.

But you don't want to think of her now, not here. This is a moment for you, for Snowflake. “What killed you?” You ask, and you find that your response and your desire to know her is genuine. When you shift, your nose pressing forward against her again though, you find that your desires return. And while you wait long enough for her to give you a response, you are on the move again, lips tracing a new path across her body. Your dirty, green teeth follow the gentle curve of her spine. The motion is slow, but with a purpose, your body following as you come closer and closer to her tail dock, all of this assuming she has not moved from you- gleaned your intentions, perhaps, and does not desire them.

You spin about, giving her time to finish her story if she has chosen to tell you, and when she is done, if she has not found it prudent to kick you, you attempt to mount her. You will not be a gentle lover, it is not in your nature, but you know she is strong enough to hold you, to tame you even, if she wants to. And as your mind goes to blank, your teeth reach forward for her withers and her mane, to hold her in the blackness where the two of you are safe to be yourselves.

@[Elsa] Uh... Oxy does what he wants? Sorry, lol. But, if she doesn't kick the shit out of him, he is temporarily sterile from the drugs, so no need to worry about babeh makin'.

Oxy

She’s not even breathing as she waits. But she needs to know the answer. What if she was still alive to him, a viable object he wished to return to? She did not have the power to deny him that, especially in such a precarious state. So the thought seems to beat around in the back of her mind for ages. It felt like months she was waiting, when really, it was probably no more than a few moments. But to her, it was like she was in line, waiting for a verdict of life and death. The one and only time she had ever put trust into someone else, and would it amount to any sort of worth? He was the jackpot she longed to win, but was she only in the winning for the time it took her to reach the end of the line? The feeling of his nose upon hers was so tense, and fleeting. Would this moment only live on as long as the touch? But soon her verdict arrived, and it was sweeter than honey.

There was an immense sigh, a release of sorts. Her breath was ragged, and she inhaled sharply as if she had just now been allowed to breath. Why was it so hard to breathe around him? She almost feels like crying again, but tears were for the sad, and she was not sad. A huge, almost comical grin plastered her face for a few moments. Even if the words that lingered were only temporary, that temporary moment would last infinitely to her.

Then, a quick change of pace, and his question caught her off guard. Why would he want to know about her? Not only that, why would he want to know her flaws? For so long, she had kept them decently buried. Only speaking of them to a fleeting man named Note, whom even then did not know the gravity of her past. For a moment, she stands stunned- A few stuttered words, but of incomprehensible roots.

She takes another breath in, before speaking. What should she say? What was her past? It had been a beautiful one, but it was a fake façade for what she was destined to become. Was that something the world needed to hear? For the amount of questions that had been answered, and the amount of loose ends that had been tied up, it seemed time was spilling them over into a never-ending exponential growth of them. But what did she have to loose? What she had was right in front of her, and he deserved to know. "I am a mistake, a mar on the world." She begins, finally. "A wrongly appointed queen who was to young to know of control." She scrunches her nose in disgust for herself. How else was she supposed to explain that the collapse of an entire kingdom was her fault? At that moment, she feels his nose upon him again. She shudders beneath the touch, but continues, empowered by him. "I was too emotional, and didn't care for the needs of others. Only myself." She pauses again as he moves. Her breath catches in her throat as he moves along her spine, and it takes her a moment to steady herself again. "I've been dead since my birth, I've just been waiting for the reaper to come and collect." By the time she finishes her voice is barely above a whisper.

She can feel him near her tail, and she stands still as a stone. The thought, although it had crossed her mind, seemed more like something that would never culminate into reality. Who would ever want her like that? But the thought has her flustered now. She shudders even, as she felt him move away from her for a moment. She was new to this, but she knew what she was capable of. He’s allowed to, and he seems to know that, for she can hear, and then feels the weight of him upon her back. She would be lying if she said she was comfortable, but, it was certainly the most pleasurable discomfort of her life. But it’s bliss, and she suddenly realizes she does, in fact, still possess a side of want. And there is nothing more in life that she could want now. All she wanted was him, and if she had to fight to keep him, she would. He was hers, and she wanted it to stay that way until the day where she would be collected. So she succumbed eagerly to his touch and imperfections. She just needed him to stay.

"Talking"
[<3 she's so awk. but oxy x elsa babies. they'd be the crazies. xD]

Elsa