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“I need your help.” Bloom is brave, Icy will give her that. To the point of stupidity maybe, but then she’s still a pixie. Can’t expect to touch a flame without getting burned (well, Icy can, actually, because her magic- but that’s not the point) or a Hǔ Gūpó to change her stripes. Or for a pixie not to be a bit of an idiot. Or a lot of an idiot - asking a witch for help. “And why in the world would I help you?” She asks, just to see what she’ll get. Just to see if Bloom has something entertaining for her, maybe even something intriguing. That’s why she agreed to meet her alone in the first place, after all, because it was a very bold request and Icy was intrigued. She should have guessed it would end up being this lame - a pleas for help, an appeal to her better nature. Yikes. Pixies, so boring, so predictable. “Because you owe me.” Comes the reply and yes, she’ll give her that, Bloom is brave. Icy, on the other hand, is neither charitable nor patient, especially not when someone tries to waste her time (although it could always be argued that she sometimes grants such people whole seconds they aren’t worth) (and then even lets them live after[*]), so she’s done here, turning on her heels without further comment. “Icy!” Bloom snaps and there’s that spark, that Dragon Fire, in her tone that makes her just a little interesting, compared to her glittery peers. Makes sneaking away from Cloudtower, from her sisters, in the middle of the night to see what she wants not just an option worth considering but something Icy actually did. Makes her pause now, not turning back around just yet, just waiting . “I could have let you die, at the lake, when we- when you fell. You could have died, but I caught you. I saved your life. I think you owe me this much.” “That’s your problem, not mine. I didn’t ask you to do that,” she retorts, although she does turn back around now. It’s a mistake. Bloom glows when she’s angry, more so now than when they first met. Fire whisping through her hair, the very air around her flickering with the heat of her magic. Icy knows what that magic feels like now, under her own skin and that doesn’t help. Bloom would have never let her fall, anyway. But the Witches Code of Honor, as much as it’s worth, doesn’t demand intent. It demands an eye for an eye, a life for a life. Icy is getting off easy here. And while Bloom can’t possibly know that, Icy does, so- So. “What do you need my help with, then?” It’s almost a shame, how she sags with relief, how quickly takes that flame, powerful enough to leave nothing of Magix but scorched earth, and tucks it back into a neat little hearth. So tame, so mellow. A small comfort, knowing how easily that can be reversed, if Icy just picks her words right. “No, wait, let me guess. Blondie got stuck staring at her own reflection and an Ohn stole her face? Flower girl confused a mandragora devorara for a common mandrake and now you need to get rid of it before it gets rid off you? “What? What is-? Why would-? Why do I talk to you? Shut up and come with me.” There - just a spark, but still. And if Icy move closer, that’s just the magic calling to her. And if anyone - her sisters, really - asks where she’s been - well, like she said, it’s quite bold, asking a witch for help. So she was intrigued, is all. - *( mostly**) **(sometimes) [ return to text ]