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[b][color=Aquamarine]wordcount:[/color][/b] 1,109 (+2)
[b][color=Aquamarine]Midna: level 7[/color][/b] EXP: [color=Aquamarine]/////////////////////////////////////////[/color]//////////////////////////////// (41/70) | [color=5edaf6]Fox level:[/color] 6 (54 -> 56/60)
[b][color=5edaf6]Location:[/color][/b]  Sandswept Sky - Graveyard of the Peaks
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They did have a point, Midna conceded, with how far and how much of a coin flip it was that the abbey would still have people and heat in it. But it wasn't like they had any better ideas. Midna could have joined in Raz’s suggestion about the magic hand based wind shield, but the physics of that situation got it shot down too. She missed the remaining back and forth (not that there was much to miss), because after Raz’s suggestion, Joker shouted out to Fox, the actual fox looking one not the teen’s fellow partner in crime, who was already starting to soldier forwards into the blizzard, like the hero he was.

Alone.

[color=Aquamarine]”What in the- what is he- uuuuurgh”[/color] the imp threw her hands up in frustration, unable to find the words for her exasperation at the pilot’s stubbornness. 

[color=Aquamarine]”Goddesses damn it… I’m going after him”[/color] she declared with a resigned tone to the rest of them. Then she waved a hand, summoned her Wolf-dran, mounted the beast and then, clinging to its body with her chest pressed to its back to reduce drag, urged the wolf to chase after the fox. Taking off at a sprint, that quickly slowed to reserved padding once the wolf-dran got a full understanding of the situation it was in for, twilight princess and beast disappeared into the white wall after Fox.

The wind tore at them both, but, being lower to the ground and a bit better suited to the weather, just a bit, they caught up with him soon enough via following his scent, rather than sight or sound of which there was only the raging passage of the frigid flakes to be seen/heard, carried backwards to them on the stormwinds.

[hr]

Having already drifted shortly out of earshot before anyone took notice, partly on account of the wind-howl that buried any voice that tried to carry against the current, Fox failed to hear or heed Joker (or anyone else) as he attempted calling out to him. Incidentally, he and his troupe of Phantom Thieves were a passing subject of his active ruminations that he passed the minutes with to psychologically avail him of the adversity he presently faced; a motivating distraction. How long ago had it been since he occupied the same fresh pair of leadership shoes—at the same apparent age, no less—and how far had t/he/y come since then? He knew a worthy leader when he saw one, and in the boy he most certainly saw one. It was plain to see, as was their potential; how much greater they stood to become, [i]together[/i]. If anyone was to find an alternate solution to safely crossing the snowfield, it would be him and his gang, thanks to him. He almost managed a proud smile at the thought, had he the feeling left in his face to spare for one.

That, he thought, may have marked the difference in their actions, given the circumstances. If the Thieves’ leader hesitated at all, it was understandably for [i]their[/i] sakes. Might Fox have done the same had his own team been there with him? To set aside an extra moment of consideration for their preservation and well-being, concerned secondarily (if that) with his own? Or might he have changed nothing at all, pressing on just as he had chosen to, but with even greater confidence that they would make it through the storm, [i]together[/i]? The lasting words of both rival and idol echoed in his mind as ever-present reminders…

[i][color=darkgray]“Don’t hesitate! When the time comes, just act!”[/color]

[b]“Never give up. Trust your instincts.”[/b][/i]

One he came to recall in times of need, the other he had always lived by. What his instincts told him now… was that their enemy rightly feared them. They touted astronomical odds, insisting on their impossibility, acting to talk them out of their crusade at chosen points, monologuing self-assurances at them that they would surely die trying, knowing better than to think that it should stop them. The truth was, whenever it came to that, it came invariably as a sign that they were afraid. The better interest of the Seekers was axiomatically absent from their intent; they were just scared that they might actually try… [i]and [b]succeed[/b][/i].

Be that as it may, the unforgiving reality of their quest bore credence. They faced down perceivably impossible challenges wherever they went, and were due to continue to, should they survive them. Even with the not-so-immediate end (literally) in sight, in the grand, overall scheme of everything, concerning their mission, the cruel fact remained that they were just getting started. The early point they were at in their journey was no time to lose heart or hope. No time to give up. No time to hesitate.

Fox less heard than saw, ‘felt’, or vaguely noticed another from Yellow Team somehow managed to catch up with him, laboring to join him at his side—one moreso than the other. Astride her transformed mount came the Twilight Princess, evidently the first to come after him.

[color=Aquamarine]”You're going to die, trying to do this alone”[/color] Midna shouted at him over the wind and snow, as she rode up to move alongside him.

The protesting words found him this time, but he said nothing in return. What was he to say? That he knew, but had no better ideas? Ask her if [i]she[/i] did? Tell her that he was glad to have her there, so then they didn’t have to die or do [i]anything[/i] alone? What would have been the use? She was already there with him, on the same path, so there was nothing to be said; nothing to convince her of. As he saw it, practically, his numbing breath was better saved (as much as he was able) for managing his energy than spent on a belaboring word to one who already understood, whether they said so or not.

As such, he continued to hike wordlessly onward, at a momentary loss for words, or any perceived need for them. All the same, and though he didn’t say, he [i]was[/i] glad to have her there with him. It proved, in spite of expressed doubts, that someone shared his faith.

The princess’s sigh of resignation was lost to the wind and the cloth and kevlar covering her mouth, though the little shake of her head got across some of how she felt about this fool's errand. After that, she wasted no more breath, and instead simply moved her mount in closer such that they could move as one, forwards, into the white. 

Because what else was there to do, but keep on pushing forwards?