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03-16-2015, 12:09 PM
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Okay, but seriously. I was startin’ to get pretty pissed. Headwings was already giving me a headache. It wasn’t even her fault, really; I was just all about this ice and I had already been feeling all these good vibes coming from the dancing shits in the sky (the aurora, the aurora--) and my buzz is always killed when someone else is there to feel the vibe along with me. I all about that solo-life, though—and she wasn’t none of my friends or fucked-up family, so there was no patience for her or them flappy things on her temples. * "You sure talk a lot about poop."* Or whatever the fuck that was. My brow raised, but I didn’t turn around to look at her, because my eyes were caught by the gleam of ice and the gleam of other things that I swore I could see. No, seriously, bet money there was something in this ice. I got closer to it, licked it a little (which is a bad idea holy hell don’t you ever lick cold shit jeez) and, once I was able to pull my tongue off of the frozen surface, I reared a little and placed a hoof against the solid, bulkiness of the glacier, the absolute force of so many millennia of dense, frozen water coming together, becoming a mountain in the land. Hiding something. Something like a-- *“A statue of a bunny...!”* The fuck-- And then I really did turn to look at her, and my eyes were probably saying a whole bunch of stuff like “The fuck is you??” and one day I’ll feel bad about it and probably seek her out to apologize or whatever the hell but right at that moment I couldn’t give two shits because—well, y’know. The thing in the thing. And speaking of two shits here came another one, a smaller one with wings and a hint of children and another reason of feel guilty about all the harsh and vulgar things running in my head at that moment and I kind of sigh-growled (“AAGHAHGHG” or something) and I backed away from the wall of ice, ignoring the questions and the inquiries, my temper boiling and rising to a head because I wanted them gone and I wanted the thing in the ice. “Move,” I said loudly, gruffly, giving them an unfair warning. I had barely spoken before the air around my horn thrummed and vibrated and sparked with more sparks than I had intended (something about the cold was making it jump a little crazier than I wanted, but let the records indicate that this was baller and I wasn’t complaining at all) and suddenly I was blasting a bolt at the face of the ice, a great CRASH sounding as it made contact. Snow and shards of ice flew everywhere, man; I squinted through the rush of stuff flying at me, and when things settled and I saw that my bolt had barely scratched the surface, I got even more pissed, more impatient, and suddenly it was a fight. One more, two more. Maybe a third. I unleashed bolt after bolt at the wall of ice, not really knowing if those two were able to get out of the way in time (and not really caring, let’s be honest). I unleashed bolts until I felt a pull behind my eyes and in my brain that told me I was pushing it too far, that I was straining that magic muscle too hard—but I didn’t stop until I heard another crack, something deeper and louder and oh-so satisfying, something within the glacier that told me something was breaking. And when the air cleared of the snow and the ice that had been flying about, I saw a crack running deeply into the ice, and I could see that thing with a little more clarity. Metal. “Watch out,” I said again, my voice rough with whatever excitement I was feeling. I wasn’t even sure if they were still there (and I still wasn’t caring); I went to the crack, reaching forward with a hoof to test it, to feel its weakness. The edges flaked underneath my touch, and when I saw that, I reared up properly and began to pummel the opening with blow after blow of my hooves, chips of ice flying everywhere as I began to carve my way to the— --metal. @[Maren] @[Tempe] |
