literature

FiG 21 - Return to Form

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The wave of dark energy shuddered through him with such intensity that at first he'd thought the building was collapsing.  As he leaned against the wall of the hotel, gathering his wits, he couldn't help but smile.  Frost'd had his fill of towers crumbling on top of him already, thank you very much.

He felt better, more himself.  Shaking off the momentary weakness he stood and found his old iron pipe in his hands, scraps of cloth around his fingers protecting his skin from the cold iron.  His grin grew as he realized the bland suit his mother had forced him into had vanished, replaced by his ratty fake fur coat.  With a satisfied puff of air he tossed blue bangs out of his face.

"To hell with blending in," he growled.  He could feel his elements singing inside him, fire, water, and air warring for control or balance.  It surprised him.  He never really felt them before.  

"What was that?" Screeched a harsh voice from around the corner.  Footsteps.  Someone was coming this way.

"I thought you said this space was stable," cut another voice, accusingly.

"It is!" A third voice assured, nervously, "Just a normal shift in dream space, nothing to be alarmed at, ladies!"

Armin.  

Frost's grip tightened on his pipe, his smile turning ugly.  Armin and Frost needed to have some words.

As the mousy man stepped past the corner, Frost swung around and smashed his stupid face in.

Well, maybe not words, exactly.

Frost delivered a few more blows once Armin had hit the ground.  Just to be sure.  Frost believed very strongly in the merits of double-tap.  Or quintuple-tap, for that matter.  

He might have even gone for a nice round dozen, if he hadn't been interrupted by the most atrocious cackling ever to cross his ears.  It was horrible, like a thousand crows cawing simultaneously while scratching a chalkboard.  He looked up with a snarl, and discovered that the impression wasn't that far off.

To the right of the hall was a pale young woman with ebony hair.  It spiked up in odd directions, and Frost realized that her head was actually covered in feathers.  She grinned at him behind a beak-like nose, dark beady eyes sparkling with merriment.  She wore white jeans and a white tank-top, covered with a cape of more feathers.  At least, he had thought them feathers, until the shoulder of her cape twisted and raised its head to look at him.  Crows.  She was covered in crows.

The woman to the left was hard to read, but from the way she stood Frost could only assume she was bored.  A black mask hid her face, and red eyes glimmered in the dark behind it like chips of ruby.  Everything about her body was sharp and glittering, as though she had been carved roughly out of obsidian.  Her skin crawled and fluttered, and as Frost looked closer he realized that she was coated in thousands of tiny black butterflies.

Despite their strangeness, neither of them frightened him nearly as much as their third and last companion.

She was a simple woman, feet bare beneath a simple dress the color of a cloudy sky.  Her long blond hair fell about her hips, a shock of her bangs dyed indigo.  A pendant hung around her neck, pair to the one he'd seen Rhiannon carry.  She stared at him, blue eyes burning with pure, demonic fury.  He swallowed.

"Lena."
Did you enjoy this short? See the rest of Frost's Adventures in Germany here:
Start with the Prologue: [link]
Previous: [link]
Part Twenty-One: You are Here
Next: [link]

Well, it's six in the morning on Robin's day off. What is she doing? Sleeping? Psh, perish the thought! No, she's writing, because she woke up after dreaming all night of Sheriff Junus and finally knew how to write the next part of FiG.

About damn time! Thanks Sheriff Junus!

Hope you enjoy it, folks. I've missed playing in this world.

Frost (c) me
Rhiannon and Lena belong to ~JoTyler
© 2011 - 2024 RobinRone
Comments15
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Star-Seal's avatar
Fft, what, what is this Junus Sheriff dream you speak of.
Glee, I've been hoping for more of this! And shoot, son, I wasn't expecting Lena.