THE POINT OF ENTRY . "meltdown"

[j a c k .]

there was something to categorize, a walking death. an ill omen and reproduction of war: silentgrave was that. jack had heard, seen through the grapevine, of this place - of the history of this place. steeped in war and only just now reforming, a place that was once war-driven and the people in it thus akin. to know that silent was drawn in, a moth towards the beacon of death this place used to be was fascinating. jack knew power, he wielded it in his bones and felt it stirring through follicles of hair that arch along his neck and down his spine, he knew power intimately, it came with the dominion such as his, death was a repercussion, it was the cost. jack knew the cost of war, of power logically, but he didn't know it, he was still young, still so naive, even if he played it off with faux widower and a composure that would later break the kodkod, it held firm in front of such a monstrosity, and it would hold firm still.

still, the fae was too lazy to even try and disway the other from doing as they please, the feeling of teeth grating against it as he licked along the afterimage of jack's power. he would taste nothing but ice- it was on;y that- ice. ice that was cold and melting as soon as it were erected, and while jack enjoyed the cool feel of it, he didn't like being wet. humidity just made the heat worse.

"if you find a big enough lake, i to will make a throne suited for one such as thee," the offer was one of goodwill, and an offer, while earnest, was never something that jack had done. he created flurries for his siblings and ice ramps, but the ice thrones were always his to make, to sit upon and watch from above. silent grave didn't seem the kind to enjoy flurries, or the snow, but in such a rush of heat, surely a seat to cool off would be a reprieve?

"mayhaps later, i'll admit i've been out of practice as of late" it wasn't, but the lie feel from the tom as quick as the ice melted here, he didn't feel the need to show an open weakness such as the latticework of his own frigid powers, an elderitch thing of death and war would do no better no worse knowing such things.

for the moment, the tom was content to lay, bask in the blazing sear of ice along his side, and let out a low purr, eyes lowering as the other's rumble almost lulled him fully.