photo by Alyson Gaul. Spontaneous_Productions on Flickr.“This petition is rubbish.” Her voice rang off the icicles in the main hall.
The Winter Court bristled at the Ice Queen’s outright distaste. Frostbite swirled complex black tattoos on her white skin, tracing frozen death up her arms to form a masquerade masque of dark veins. Her eyes, glittering with the colour of green ice caverns, cast about the room without humour, daring dissent.
Jack Frost gave it to her. “There’s a flush in your cheeks, majesty,” he lied. “You’re starting to think like our August counterparts.” The polished silver mask he wore glinted while his mouth twisted in a proud sneer at his wordplay. He continued.
“Myself and my sister Jill have forsaken our runs this morning to come here. While I believe that this is a waste of..” -he breathed in deep and raised his long hands-“ALL…OF…OUR…TIME…,” he shouted with all of his might.
His voice echoed around the cavernous hall of ice. His open display of suicidal disrespect brought a smirk to the lips of Black Well and Dark Water, the only two warrior caste besides the Ice King. Dark Water, the tallest of the court, chattered his teeth and looked down, letting his shock of dark hair drop to cover the mirth twinkling in his eyes. He brought up his thin hands, suddenly very interested in his own sharp knuckles.
Black Well’s metal collar, shined to court-appearance perfection, trembled above her cleavage with suppressed laughter. Her face, inlaid with iron, remained as passive as the face of a mountain.
Jack Frost continued, “…I don’t, however, believe the petition to be rubbish. We could have ignored the demands set forth by The Warm or brought them into open conflict but we are here now to address it amongst ourselves. We need to do so. We are here, leaving Winter vulnerable, because you summoned. It is not up to you to dismiss us.”
Jack’s blind sister, Jill, sighed and leaned her head on the velvet brocade of her brother’s court dress jacket. She added insult by making her boredom obvious. Her grey dress crinkled stiffly with frost.
The Ice Queen stared at Jack and Jill. The temperature rose, making everyone a little more uncomfortable.
“So be it.” said the King. His ice-mail shirt hung across his broad chest. The skin of two bears wrapped his shoulders. His blood ran hot too often when the normal subterfuge and bickering of the Winter Court wasted his time.
“Let us hear it.” he commanded.
Herald Cryo stepped forth. He dressed in a black business suit of man. His fedora was pulled down snugly above the long wool scarf he wrapped twice around the lower half of his face. The strip of flesh from nose to forehead held his darting, suspicious eyes. No one had ever seen his mouth.
He looked both ways, as if he was about to cross a street, before he spoke.
His voice came resonating softly out from the four corners of the gallery. It was his trick.
“The people of the three warmer months would suffer us a trade. The humans should be allowed to continue with their global warming.” Cryo said.
The Flake triplets gasped identically. They looked nothing like each other.
“In continuing to heat the Earth,” continued Cryo, “They will eventually suffer themselves another Ice Age. It will be years in coming but it will come. We ask your hand in allowing them to do this. As a Season, in a unanimous motion. We await your answer.”
In the silence that followed, blue-haired Floe snuggled up to red-haired Icelette. Berg looked at the two of them with jealousy.
“Remember the Ice Age, brothers and sisters?” said Snowdrift, breaking from her embrace with Long Night.
They all ran through the cherished unbroken memories of a thousand years of glaciers.
“I say we do it.” Said Crystal in her ringing voice, like a shaking chandelier.
The motion passed.
tags
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
