Tiny Heart [Phaedra]

[Sylvias]

A howl of wind could be heard from outside the Ice Kingdom, a sign that a terrible storm was brewing. In the structure of ice, a few cracking noises ensued. To some the sound would resemble the crackling of firewood. And so, could it be the Ice Queen listened to the outside world, as though it was a melody being played? One could wonder. Perhaps this is why Death showed up on the Queen’s doorstep, as though it was a meeting between two friends. No need for a knock, no need for a letter or for in invitation, Sylvias would simply be there.

A mirror was in the Queen’s room, rather large, but the most daunting thing about it was that the Ice Queen herself was sitting in front of this vast -- but beautifully crafted -- mirror. There she was, in all her frigid beauty brushing her hair, sitting proper and poised. She truly was a work of art, in her frozen tundra, all alone; all powerful. While the female stared into that mirror of hers and continued to brush her hair, the Ice Queen would notice that she was no longer alone.

Behind her stood a dark figure, eyes holding no color. The thing was, his presence did not bring any hopelessness to the Ice Queen -- for she was immune, able to feel nothing. Sylvias said nothing at first. The Death Fey wanted to simply watch the woman brush her hair, distracted by such white. Not wanting the Ice Queen to turn from her image in the mirror, Sylvias approached her.

Over the girl’s left shoulder was a hand held out. “May I?” he inquired, wanting to have the brush for himself, to see what it would feel like to brush such lengths.

[Phaedra Acacia Rin]

There had been a meeting earlier that day. Some of the lesser fey had complaints or requests and oddly enough the Queen took her duty seriously and listened. Some requests were denied and others were granted. All the while she sat upon her throne of ice and oversaw everything. Yet, it was a terribly boring event and her mind had already begun to numb itself so it was even harder for her to be objective when it came to the complaints. All she wanted to do was rip them apart, tear them asunder and have their blood spray across her face. The hot liquid, for it did stay warm in such gushes (at least for a short while), would splash her face and chest and fill her with elation, joy and a few other emotions.

Now she was in her rooms, hours beyond the meeting. Alone as usual and garbed in what could pass for a nearly sheer floor length robe, made out of expertly weaved ice. Hands caressed down her long pale hair, one of them holding a brush. Eyes locked upon the mirror as she inspected herself in it while pampering her hair. Phaedra knew she was beautiful, most fey were by nature of just simply being. The Queen knew too though that she was one of the most beautiful fey around, because she had been told so countless times. It was this beauty that entranced others to come near to her and that were now artfully on display around the Palace. All men and women who had tried to be her lover were frozen as such and kept as reminders. Reminders for who or what though only Phaedra knew.

Cold and emotionless eyes locked on to the figure behind her. Who was this bold male who dared approach her? He did not seem familiar, not one of her own court this was certain just by his looks. Though here he was, standing nearby and did not seem bothered by the chill of the room around him. At first she felt like asking him who he was, what he was doing here, why the cold did not bother him. Instead her eyes remained fixed upon his person, who was very lovely, as his hand was stretched out and the question spoke.

“You may.” Her hand with the brush stalled then stopped. She reached out toward his hand and put the intricately carved instrument into it. Her hand being so close to his that there was nearly contact between the two. Would he feel this cold then? This was the extreme cold that froze people on contact and slowed the motions and hearts of anyone nearby.

Assassins did not ask to brush your hair, so the Queen felt nothing, which wasn’t hard anyway, as she handed the brush off to the fey behind her. However, if he was an assassin they finally found someone who could get close to her and not fall prey to the deathly chill that she herself was. “Aren’t you cold?”

[Sylvias]

Rulers always responded differently to the Death Fey. Lang, the Fire Ruler, had basically lost the ability to breathe -- surrounded by the feeling of Death. So, this experience was amazing in the fact that the girl had been used to the chill. The Ice Queen was rather indifferent to the Death Fey’s appearance. Normally, a ruler would want to know where he had come from -- how he got inside. For a Kingdom was not a home to be safe in, as it belonged to many souls.

Sylvias’ eyes dropped to the offering hand. He stared at the woman’s long fingers, it was as though they were made of porcelain. Had these fingers ever been hurt? If he hadn’t heard a faint warmth of a soul in the girl’s body, he would have pegged her as a mannequin -- hardly real at all. Sylvias took the brush from her hands, aware that she avoiding any contact. Did she fear that he would take her soul if their flesh had met? No, his eyes seemed to still.

He was reading the woman’s past. She was alone in her hysteria; she was so cold, so alone and wanted anything to feel alive. Death Fey could relate to this feeling, often calling the need to feel alive, a ‘hunger’, for each time he had extracted a soul was a little less emptiness. At the woman’s question, he wanted to feign a laugh. Cold? What was temperature to Death Fey, really? Sylvias gripped the brush’s handle, holding onto it.

“I don’t think I am cold,” he answered, finally moving his other hand to place it on the Queen’s shoulder. It was meant to still his body parts, so that he was able to actually use the brush upon her. The girl’s shoulder was flawless beneath his hand, and his fingers fit perfectly in the hollow part of her shoulder blade. Would she be surprised that the cold did nothing? The only effect the woman had upon him was that his flesh started to take on a purple hue; yet it did not turn into ice.

As though it was a natural process, Sylvias placed the brush at the crown of the girl’s head, moving it down. It was like water running over silk. While Death didn’t actually feel enjoyment, he was by no means bored.

[Phaedra Acacia Rin]

Though she did not ask her mind was not silent. It kept going over possible lists of people, or even things, that this seeming fey could be. Assassin kept crawling through her mind but she tuned it out because he did not fit that bill. Perhaps he was something she had not yet met, but had heard about for many years. One of the Death fey. If so, was he going to take her now, while brushing her hair? It would be an experience, and something she had never felt or seen before. Other then that there was nothing else to the thought, just mild curiosity.

Watching him in the mirror her eyes never showed an emotion, only intensity. They brightened as he gripped the brush and followed the movements of his hands and body. There was this sudden fascination in her, about this creature that could be so close to her and not freeze to death.

He touched her. The sensation was so foreign and unheard of that it brought a soft gasp from the Queen. Her eyes trailed to where his hand was, still looking through the mirror because turning now might tangle her hair. The flesh had changed color, and nothing more. Now she could not keep her curiosity from bubbling over, something lit up in those pale and often dead eyes. “What are you?” Not who, because that was not the important thing. Names meant nothing when it came to his ability to withstand her frigid temperatures which no one else since all her days had been able to do.

Because everything he was doing was new to her, she made sounds that she had never heard before. They were good noises, a soft purr of pleasure from the feeling of someone else brushing her hair to a slightly quickened breath due to his constant contact. For all of her ice cold ruthless killing and uncaring behaviour, Phaedra was still a woman and one who had never been touched. Only a few kisses here and there as a means to kill someone out of fun. The lovers she had tried to have, because she was curious if it would make her feel too, died before anything could ever happen.

[Sylvias]

Ah, so she finally realized. Sylvias’ mouth shifted into a smile, as though quaint with her reaction. At first, he did not answer her, but rather preyed upon her. So innocent in her gestures, glancing to see the actual hand on her shoulder. It was there. To even show it, Syl pressed the pads of his fingers deeper into the flesh. Unlike most Fey, he reflected nothing of warmth. All it had been was flesh upon flesh. Had the Ice Queen even known that her flesh was smooth? The brush continued to work with the movements, shifting to accommodate the slight shift of her hair.

Sylvias shifted slightly, moving the hand that was rested on the shoulder. Instead of gripping her still, he placed his palm at the side of her neck, brushing the hair off her back in the process. In a sense, he was catering to the soul, knowing what had made it happy. To simply touch the Ice Queen would be enough, wouldn’t it?

“I’m Death,” he offered, truly unaware that other Fey still considered Death to be Feys. It was true, though, they had merely took the image of a Fey. For how else could they play at life’s strings? Sylvias was unsure when to bring up the topic of the contract, but being in her personal space was at least a preview on what he could offer. For this soul, so tormented and yet hopeful for some type of kindling flame, would be such a lovely thing to take.

At last, he had stopped the brushing. He didn’t put the brush down, but simply held onto it, at his side. Sylvias glanced into the mirror, seeing his own appearance. There was no blue to be seen underneath the shade of black, but he had noticed that his fingers were slightly red. Stained with blood. Would the Ice Queen dislike the fact that they had been stained? Perhaps he would have to cleanse them on their next meeting, if she so happened to accept his offer.

For now, he simply continue to brush his palm over the base of her neck, fascinating by the pulse beneath it, wondering how such life survived in cold temperatures.

[Phaedra Acacia Rin]

The pressing of his fingers deeper into her flesh brought an audible gasp from her slightly parted lips. Composure was usually so easy for the Queen, being of Ice and emotionless for the most part. The only way she had ever felt in the past was through violence because no one could withstand her touches, or touching her themselves. Yet, here was this stranger, Death if she ha to give him a name or title…and he was not only touching her but lingering as well. There was a nagging in the back of her skull, telling her to relax and get herself back under control. Her main problem was that, for all of her merciless killing and glee while doing so…the Ice Queen was a virgin pure and simple. Touching elicited odd responses from her skin, her mind and her body. These things she was not prepared for.

She should stop him from touching her. He was causing her mind to become confused and her body to shiver from anything but the cold. Phaedra had not lived this long by falling apart at such simple and ridiculous things. Pulling all her willpower to the front of her mind she steeled herself. Pale eyes went frigid once more and her shoulders stiffened. “Well Death, you are being awfully friendly with a person you do not truly know. Propriety demands you to not touch so much, but I have a feeling you care nothing for that sort of thing.” Oddly enough, for as bloodthirsty as she could be, Phaedra lived her life very clean. She had impeccable manners, was wonderful when it came to diplomacy for her court, and carried herself like a lady should.

His stroking of her neck, even with her regained composure, had her back bowed every so slightly and her breath faster then when he had first approached her. Something sparked in her eyes yet she denied the sudden and nearly irresistible urge to become violent toward the strange fey who put his hands upon her.

He wanted something from her. No one came to see her of their own free will without wanting something. Now all she had to do was wait and see just what it was. Considering who or rather what he was, it would not be something paltry.

[Sylvias]

Sylvias stopped his caresses, only to move himself around the vanity. He placed the brush down next to the large mirror, slowly placing himself into view -- pratically in Phaedra's lap. There was no reason that the Ice Queen would have to look through the looking glass to see him, for Death wasn’t always at its best in a mere reflection. “I can see your soul,” he said idly, aware that the soul had desired to be loved, to experience touch. “Your soul is rather lonely, my Ice Queen.” There was a buzz about him, perhaps a high from already creating a contract with another ruler.

Reaching his hand out again, he placed his thumb to the Queen’s chin. Using his index finger he touched it near to her neck, attempting to crane to look at him more vividly. While his touch had been of no harm to the girl at first, something was starting to crawl into the Queen’s flesh. It was almost like fire, she would be able to feel the heat of the touch. Death Fey knew what would hurt Fey the most, and while his touch wasn’t a fire; it was of agony. And agony often burned or chilled.

Before the woman before him had a time to react to the pain he had started to inflict on the Queen, he let it reside to simply being a touch. “I rather like lonely souls these days,” he voiced, leaning in to see the girl’s cold eyes. He had wanted to see how the soul did with pain; wanted to read into it and maybe even chew on it. Sometimes, Death was impatient, and it was one of these moments. “I must have your soul, my dear, and I will give you anything to have it,” there was a sing-song tone about him.

Sylvias’ brows raised, as though he really was intrigued. “What do you say?”

[Phaedra Acacia Rin]

She could see him clearly now, though the mirror had not been dirty. It was the vision of another sort. He was in front of her, his touched had stopped for the time being and she was sitting. There was an advantage that he had with her current position, because she figured that upon standing there would be her looming over him. The Queen could tell she was taller just by looking him up and down…not only that but she was used to towering over her own court and all the others anyway.

Once more he touched her; he seemed to really enjoy doing that. It unnerved the Queen and yet sent odd sensations all along her skin. There it was again, the violent urge to backhand him, shove a spike of ice up his nose and into his brain. Could Death die? It was a tempting thought, an interesting prospect indeed and she was actually tempted to try, but then she felt something very foreign yet familiar just the same, more known then the other feelings.

Mouth opened just barely she hissed out how it felt to her. Yet her eyes sparked alive and there was a quick grin to follow the exhalation of air. Feeling, of any kind, was welcome to Phaedra and she relished it with the intensity of a wanton whore. He had stopped before anything could really start, but feeling the beginnings of what could happen was promising and she was alive with need now.

“My soul? What a worthless thing indeed. Tainted and beyond repair.” She reached out to him, placing her hands upon either side of his face while standing up. There was a difference in their heights as she had figured, with her taller, though only by a few inches. Her mouth descended down upon him and she favored Death with a kiss, her own version of death itself as none had ever survived it before. Phaedra knew he would.

Letting him go she began to wander around the room, her excitement not being contained any longer. “You say anything, yet I want everything. How can you give me what I want so easily I wonder? Why does Death get all the good abilities?” Laughter then, wild and loud enough to bounce around the room. There was no subtlety about her now, this was the spark that lit the fire of her soul, feeling. It was wild, crazy and unpredictable.

“I want to feel. I want to touch and be touched without killing or even harming someone. I do not want to lose my powers and would love to be even more powerful. I want to conceive a child, the proper way, with a certain person.” The tall Queen stopped then and turned back to face Syl eyeing him thoughtfully. “I want to know love as it is one of the only things I have never been able to experience, even with my own family. I want Svv, completely, in everything. Can you give me these things? All of them?” Her feet carried her back to Death and she pressed herself up against him earnestly. “Give me everything and you can have the soul.”

[Sylvias]

While some could ‘move forward’ from their past; they could never rid of it. The jagged past that made up the Ice Queen’s soul was marred with something beyond repair. Perhaps it reached her brain, made her a little senile, but who could really tell these days. For this destructive soul has kept the Ice Kingdom nearly untouchable. So, when the girl stood up and towered over the Death Fey, he naturally craned his head back to look at her. Height would never bother the dead, because they were only alive as one could see. No struggle came from Sylvias, allowing her to move forth and place a playful kiss upon his lips.

Upon the release, Sylvias appeared to flicker in the room, moving himself to be a little closer to the frozen windows of the room. It had reminded him of a giant ice cube, like stained glass, to be unable to see the outside of the world for what it truly was. Had Phaedra lost the ability to see the simple beauty of life? For how could she relate in such in an emotionless state? His eyes narrowed as he reached a hand outward, placing his palm against the glazed window.

The speak of power caught his attention again, and he turned to look over his shoulder at the woman. Getting all the good abilities? What had that truly meant? There was nothing redeeming about the way he did things, for if the Ice Queen had truly thought she felt nothing -- then she would not be any better off in a Death Fey’s position. When it came down to it, they were not that different from one another. They both killed for hunger; a hunger that could never been satisfied. Yet, Phaedra would now be lifted of that curse if she made a contract. A wry smile appeared on Sylvias’ face -- living Fey always had it easy.

Sylvias turned then, to give her more attention as she raved out her desires. To feel, that was easy, to make the powers mental instead of uncontrollable, and the ice she used would be cursed, as though Death had been there himself. To conceive? Sylvias’ had wanted to laugh at the request, the amusement drawing from the fact that she had wanted it with Svv. Wasn’t there any soul better she could find? Merely, his logic had been based off the idiotic things the Sound Fey had done in the past.

The Queen came forth to Death, and he moved both of his hands out to take the girl’s right hand into his own. He held onto her. “I can give those to you, for your soul is worth it,” he glanced up to her, wanting to confirm that she had wanted to bind this contract before changing her to fit those desires.

[Phaedra Acacia Rin]

How would it be to feel, to touch, to be touched without the person screaming in agony and dying on the spot? It did not bother her when they died because that would mean she had to feel something. It was interesting and she had tried killing in many different ways just to see how it could be done. One of her favorite was with her very own mouth. Yet, with this deal she would get so much more, and the Queen was eager. Eager and wary, an odd sensation. Phaedra knew that a deal like this would have its ups and downs and she could in no way be prepared for what would happen after she signed away her soul. Never feeling anything and suddenly feeling everything would be a big change…but worth it she hoped.

“There is no turning back now. I know what I want and I will have it, whatever the cost. I have tried for years to feel something because everything is dead, flat, empty. I am obsessed and I do not care.” She was looking into those eyes with no emotion yet a burning intensity that was all her own. “I also need an heir, regardless of what my court thinks I will not leave them scrambling when I die.” Easily enough the Queen could have many suitors but she chose Svv specifically. Dark and Ice would make a good combination and she enjoyed his company when they were together.

Yes she should think on this more. Weigh all of her options. The pros and cons of what she was asking and giving. This was not going to happen. Phaedra was greedy and could only see what she wanted. Later all of this would come to her and she could possibly find herself an idiot then, and could feel stupid, since after this deal she could feel entirely.

There was silence on her end, she did seem to be pondering. All she was thinking however was about what she wanted and if that was enough. “You have your deal then Death. A Soul for everything I asked. When I leave this realm permanently it is yours.” The Queen of the Ice had just signed whatever contract there was for selling your soul to Death…could it be worse then to the Devil himself?

[Sylvias]

Her response brought a look to Sylvias’ eyes, one that had a silent thank you, even though he hadn’t felt that at all. So, he gripped the woman’s unscathed hand tightly into his own. It was a magnificent hand, a wondrous hand, but it hadn’t been to his best liking. If the Ice Queen did not use her new control correctly, she could just as very well damage herself. Had anyone done such a thing? Sylvias brought the hand up to his mouth and he placed a light kiss at the base of her knuckles. In this brief moment, his eyes closed to listen to that lusty soul.

While no one could truly feel a contract, Sylvias’ could hear it. Death’s embrace was now in her bloodstream, and it would take her over. She could control her powers at a whim, and when the time was right, Svv would be hers. “Simply decide when you want Svv, for he will do what you want on your command, for that one thing only,” it was a strict reminder, because if she had tried to boss the Sound Fey around for other purposes, she would find it to be useless. All she had to say was, ‘Svv, would you like to accompany me in bed -- ?’ Anything that was close to the implication.

Lifting his head away from her hands, the glosses eyes of his moved back to the girl’s pale gaze. “Call my name, it is Sylvias. Do not share this name for anyone else, for it is a summoning practice. If I should come upon someone I have not made a contract with, they will surely die,” it was true; however, for mortal Fey had no reason to call upon Death. For Death was not something to be controlled, it would come when the time was right -- when the end was near.

As though a polite gesture, Sylvias moved her hand back, releasing it momentarily. “Do you wish anything else from me at this time?” it had been a warning that he would leave if she did not, for Death had a hard time mingling.

[Phaedra Acacia Rin]

He kissed her hand and something happened. It was not earth shattering or even that noticeable, but it was there. His skin stopped being affected by the cold, whether he had even felt it in the first place or not. There was a subtle shift of things beyond just her freezing touch having vanished, something felt lighter and she began to blink rapidly. The air around her actually rose a few degrees, but not too much, they were still in the Ice Palace as it were.

“Sylvias. There, I want to make sure I pronounce it correctly shall I need to ever use it.” Her voice had a lilt to it, it was no longer flat and dead. Her eyes widened while listening to herself speak and she hummed, and then sang outright. Her voice carrying in the room with a good pitch to it and rather musical in tone. It was actually very lovely and she blushed and smiled, a real smile. “Oh my, oh…this is just wondrous! I..I can feel! I have never heard such tones come from my own voice before.”

She seemed like a young girl then. All smiles and amazement. Trying something for the first time and realizing that she likes it. Those pale and often cold and cruel eyes were ablaze with life and emotion…yet no less cruel. “I want him soon. I must test everything out. I wonder what it would feel like to kill someone now.” She mimed tearing something apart with her bare hands and laughed uproariously about it. If anything, these new found emotions would not hinder her want for death…it just may amplify it.

“What about my power? I asked for more. I am at heart incredibly greedy and I want to be stronger. What have you done with that?” Her hands caressed over his shoulders and she marveled at being able to touch him still and cause nothing to happen. Her insatiable lust for power and death may soon be matched by an insatiable lust for something else. All she need to do is test it out and see if it matched or perhaps passed other things up.

[Sylvias]

Sylvias watched the girl. He could see the air around her fog up, as though a flame was about to start. It did not, for the atmosphere was much stronger in cold. While he had wanted to offer many ways to show the girl how her powers worked, he was not a tool to be reckoned with. Death Fey were easily insulted if the powers given to other Fey were used back upon them. However, he was sure to know that there were many of the female’s lovers capsule in ice that she could play with. Syl looked thoughtful. Would it take a Fire Fey to melt the ones in their ice prison?

And it dawned on him, and his eyes flickered at the mention of more power. It wasn’t that he was going to give her more, but instead he was going to take away. Surely, she had been imprisoned in her own land, only wanting to travel when it was Winter. What would it be like to be truly free?

He looked upon her glee, and it almost warmed Death that she was happy. For he had been satisfied to make a contract. Would she finally leave her castle, to seek for Svv? From her words, he had not doubt her greedy intentions. In a way she reminded Syl of a King who had a golden cup, who continued to drink wine all day, until one day poison was set within the glass… and the King would drink no more. Syl moved his left hand up, as though he wanted her to calm down. However, he was merely moving just to be able to move. Afraid that perhaps, he too, would become a block of ice.

The Queen’s hand was on his shoulder, and he had not turned her away. “Your new powers? Surely you can reverse what you’ve done now. Don’t you agree that’s fair? You have full control now, as you see. All those Fey you trapped within ice can now be freed, and you will be able to roam at your leisure. Your even free to survive in the lands of Fire. For I can only give you more power at your request, but it has to be specific. A request only so vague will receive something just as unreadable.”

[Phaedra Acacia Rin]

“Release?” She laughed, the sound musical and pleasant to the ears. “Oh my dear Death, that is such a silly notion. Why would I ever release those that are forever imprisoned? No, they shall stay that way forever, until someone else tries to free them. Whosoever does attempt at such shall find themselves at deaths door as well.” She dropped her hand and pulled away, the momentary brightness which was so different in this place, completely gone. Pale eyes were cruel and cold but not without emotion. Instead in them was lust and a deep hunger that may never be satisfied.

“Enough talk about the prisoners. We speak of power now.” Phaedra began to pace about her room, appearing contemplative in her features. “Why would I ever wish to roam the lands of fire? I have nothing in common with those people and they despise me as sure as I do them. No, there needs to be something more.” He required something detailed though and yet she knew he would grow impatient if left too long while she thought.

She stopped in the middle of the room and turned her body toward him, eyes alight once more yet now with malicious glee. “I want an ability, something simple really. I want to be able to heal myself and myself alone. I know there has to be a cost for healing so I want to heal at the expense of others. I take from them what I need to heal, simple as that. I do not want to have to literally skin them but take from their essence, energy, by just concentrating on them.” Perhaps this was detailed enough for Death, and maybe not. She would find out soon enough depending on what he told her.

A thought came to her, one that had nothing to do with what had just been said. She could actually wear clothing now; have a pet perhaps…and of course a lover. The latter of which Svv would be her first, to ensure her pregnancy by him of course, afterward she may grow affectionate with many others.

[Sylvias]

Sylvias could not keep up with Phaedra’s logic. While he understood the killing intent laced within her words, surely she had other plans. Not to mention she spoke so ill of her alliance. How was it she truly managed to rule these lands successfully? Did her followers even truly adore her, or was it simply out of fear? No wonder she had needed a heir. For one day, Phaedra would pass, because she would most likely become a target for Fey. Out of pity and revenge.

As she paced the room, his figure flickered, this time it was to sit within the chair of the vanity. He appeared at the mirror again, at his face. If Svv’s words were true, then he had once been alive. But was this the same figure before him? Sylvias frowned at himself, watching the dark fog shift over his eyes. Of course, he was still listening to the Ice Queen. However, requests were always boring, no matter how Death dealt with it. This wasn’t his first contract, either. Lowering his head a little, he turned to glance at Phaedra.

“Fey do not have essences, simply you’d be extracting the soul,” and he thought of Death Weaving and other taboo abilities that Fey usually had. Sylvias had not wanted to give her the ability, if that was the case. There was no way he could sacrifice his weaving twice. As he was about to stand, he flickered again, this time to the Queen’s side. He placed his palm upon her should, gripping her still. “But you’re more than welcome to heal for yourself, healing is a technique of weaving. I can give you the ability to do as such, but I will not offer you to hinder with the soul.”

His head was turned in the opposite direction, as though annoyed with her already. “Is that what you seek?”