but somewhere here in between the city walls of dyin' dreams

And the snow kept on falling in its stillness and serenity, muting out the sound of their voices and making it all feel unreal—like he wasn't quite awake. Lost within the whiteout, and lost within himself, in his perfect prison of crystalline ice. The routes he had trod in his castle, the dust he had disturbed, and yet no life had flickered. Kahlua had been at his walls, at his gates, halfway into the secrets of the King upon his bloody, frozen throne—and where she had walked, flowers had blossomed and light had spilled forth.

But now Kahlua was gone, and the darkness and silence reigned supreme again.

It was more comfortable that way. It was.. easier, he thought, his face a mask of stillness he didn't truly feel. Maybe he looked tranquil, but he simply felt dead.

He felt about as harmless as a squirrel, and as inspired as a dead marmot. He was tired, he was broken, he was directionless, and yet his mere presence was enough to startle the General. Her weight shifted. It would've been amusing, albeit troubling, if she had taken off at the sound of his voice. He wasn't even sure why, but something about it was just.. funny. There he was, snowed in and frozen, treading upon the pathway of his broken dreams, and he almost seemed to scare her.

Mauja's pale eyes narrowed slightly as she looked pointedly aside from him. Was he that terrifying? Or did he look as shitty as he felt, and she averted her gaze out of politeness for not having to question the strength of one of her leaders? Was there something she hid? The tear stains of black bitterness marring the snowy canvas of her face? His head tilted, slightly. Somewhere, the maimed remains of his heart twitched, a death spasm of emotion, but he couldn't make sense of it.

“As good as I’ll ever be, I suppose,” she said, and he said, "Ah,". He didn't think he had ever said it in those quite words, but he had stood alone in the frozen north and shouted the King is dead and somehow it had made sense to him—

What demons haunted her? What lurked beneath the ice of her eyes? “And how are you?” she went on, still talking to the trees.

"Cold," he finally said, white breath rising towards the clouds. "I feel like I've died inside, but somehow my body lingers." And his blue, pensive gaze drifted up between the snowflakes, as if he could follow them to their origin—and find his peace there.

[ @Elsa ]

man, I ain't changed, but I know I ain't the same