[center][h3]* * * * *[/h3][/center] [i]The wind howled as if in pain. In a colourless world of ice, the town was nothing more than a warped piece of horizon. [color=9e0b0f]Go. What are we waiting for?[/color] The Sculptor stood upright, raised their head to the sky. Their owl's face split at the chin, rose, revealed itself as nothing more than an upper jaw over a huge maw. Walker shrieked into the polar night. The guard was well-prepared. Walker's pack was not. That didn't matter. They were nothing but spear fodder anyway. Fae spikes had been worked into a line alone a wooden spine, slanting upwards, which had then been lashed to another facing the other way. Repeat four times and Walker had a sword for each hand. Eight ashlings followed the Sculptor's lead as it ran, weapons flicking. Shards of ice flashed forwards from the wall and glanced off glass armour and one dense coat of quills. Walker felt something pierce their shoulder and didn't even slow. The world bounced at their sprint, and then- Pronobis. Walker swung and the warrior's blood became an arc of steam on the wind. The two at its side closed rank immediately as they fell in towards Walker's groin with their frozen spears, but their wounds were shallow and Walker's were not. The enormous creature's maw opened and a barbed tongue picked up a fourth by the neck. His head popped with a frozen shatter. [color=9e0b0f]Strange, isn't it?[/color] They did not turn to ice if they were killed before their time. They still had a taste. The ashlings fought and were rebuffed, but Walker worked too fast for the Pronobii to realise that they were wasting their time with the scum. Each blow was excessive, nothing but a glint and a sound of wood splintering, breaking bodies as much as it tore them open. The jagged lines of faery metal were bent by flesh. Four swords, each rising as another fell. The sound became rhythmic. Walker ran out of warriors and turned on the ashlings. They were harder than the icy armour, yet more brittle. Hacking became crushing. Without skin, the ashlings' organs simply steamed naked on the ice when they were broken. Those hands did not seem nearly so fragile now. There was a[/i] thud [i]within the town walls after the noise died down. A thin layer of snow had tumbled from the inside of the wall from the impact. The Pronobii looked at each other in terror as an alien sound pierced the uncanny quiet. Slowly, steadily, Walker began to laugh. The sound carried on the wind and was heard for miles. [color=9e0b0f]...What is it?[/color] Walker slumped against the ice wall, quaking with laughter, bleeding from everywhere, blood that froze in their wounds. "All this way," wheezed Walker, "to be stopped by a gate!" [color=9e0b0f]...[/color] Jvan was silent. Then, softly at first, as if breaking through a wall of her own, she, too, started laughing. [color=9e0b0f]You[/color][/i] [color=9e0b0f]idiot,[/color] [i]said Jvan, between chuckles. [color=9e0b0f]Light! How did we do this?[/color] Walker just sat against the wall and laughed. They laughed together. They fell quiet together. After a while. "I could make a ramp out of snow," said Walker. "They'd fight me the whole way, but..." [color=9e0b0f]No need. We did what we came to do, and you did it well. Be proud, Walker.[/color] Walker nodded, limply, then began to stand. [color=9e0b0f]Let me.[/color] The Sculptor's eyes closed and the thoughts behind them fell into a trance. Jvan took over. Walker's performance responded well to her cues; It was almost as if she could share his body. Jvan ran her hands over the layered feathers, felt the warmth of Walker's lungs, the taste between their teeth. She felt the bruises under the plumage. Frostbite and fatigue. [color=9e0b0f]You're cold,[/color] she commented coolly. Walker began to stir, and she pressed them down with a psychic fingertip, a signal gentle yet obeyed. Her hands wrapped around their body, weathering the wind for them, one soul holding another. [color=9e0b0f]Relax yourself. I will take it from here.[/color][/i] [center][h3]* * * * *[/h3][/center]