Chapter Text
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It starts and ends like this:
Icy’s taunts go on a little too long, after all, she has always enjoyed playing with her food; a spider with a bunch of flies in her web.
They end up in the middle of the chaos, having to watch out for stray spells as much as each other’s.
When Dark Bloom appears, she’s already bored and ready to leave, even more so when Stella begins to regale her with the same old drivel of “love this” and “love that.”
It ceases to be funny when Stella’s words actually seem to have some kind of effect on her.
Her own words towards Icy float back at the forefront of her mind when she can’t seem to make herself swat the fairy away from her.
That’s not right.
That can’t be right.
It’s not possible.
And yet still, she can’t seem to want to hurt her.
Every attack pauses at just a hair’s breadth away from actually hitting.
And Stella was catching on, with that familiar cocky smile and determined shine to her eyes.
It sends a shiver of
FEAR
down her spine.
She can’t be saved.
She won’t be.
Dark Bloom burns with volatile emotions, wanting out but feeling trapped, and in her blindness she lashes out with a hand to tear through a combination spell aimed at her by some nobody third years instead of just letting her fires consume it.
Don’t they know they’ve lost?!
It’s a wide unrestrained arc and Stella, far too focused on her friend rather than her surroundings, gets far too close.
Dark Bloom feels the barest of resistance beneath her claws, like paper.
And then it’s the feeling of wetness splattering against the side of her face.
The metallic smell of iron hitting her nose.
A horrific gurgling sound that overshadows the yells and screams of a battle already lost.
Reptilian gold shrink into disbelieving pinpricks as the princess of Solaria tries to say her name, but what words of comfort can you offer with a slashed throat? It’s an ugly sound, a haunting thing.
Does she try to say her name? Does she try to utter the words she has been trying to say to her?
She’ll never know.
She just gets to watch Stella drop her scepter in mute shock, overwhelmed with an animalistic need to free her hands so she can cover the life threatening injury with something, anything.
But the blood keeps on flowing, like a fountain,
A red fountain HAHA straight out of nightmares.
staining her trembling fingers red
like her hair
along with her sparkling outfit, turning it an ugly rust color.
Her transformation doesn’t so much as burst as it melts away.
Transforming is energy
and energy is lifeblood
and she’s losing all of it
“Stell...a?”
The name drags itself out of her throat without prompting.
It almost feels like she’s been the one struck down like a pig.
She still floats there like a statue even as Stella succumbs to gravity, blankly staring where the solar fairy used to be; still seeing the specter of gore and death she’s caused as if someone has hit pause on the universe. A death she’s caused. Stella’s death.
...huh?
She did this.
“Freezing hailstorm,” Icy breathes out in awe, coming to float in her peripheral. “I didn’t think you actually had it in you.”
It wasn’t...an accident. It was an accident.
Was it?
She can’t feel her hands shaking above the ringing in her ears.
She doesn’t even comprehend suddenly bolting into action, shooting down to where the fairy had fallen.
The fairy?
That’s what she is to you.
Some fairy
Stella writhes there, beautiful locks spreading across the grass like bloody rivers. Forever matted in a state their owner would bemoan for eternity.
Every single drop
Going down down down
Seeping into the dirt
To bring new life from death
Isn’t
That
R I G H T?
Isn’t that
What
She
W A N T S?
No, no there’s still time. She’s saved Sky, she’s healed Diaspro. She can salvage this, she can save her. She can save her—
Where’s the Flame’s comforting presence then?
Why does she feel so cold?
Why does she not care?
But she does care.
She cares so much she feels tears pricking her eyes.
And yet she’s not screaming.
Not uttering a single sound of alarm.
Not calling out for help.
What is she doing?
Stella’s still struggling for breath, still clinging to life. She just needs to reach out and heal her.
What is she doing?
Bring her swift peace.
Why is she prolonging her suffering?
Don’t let her suffer! Do something!
She did this to her.
Her tears are evaporating before they can drip down her cheeks.
She can’t breathe past the burning coal in her chest.
Black as coal
That’s her heart
Selfish creature
Look at what she’s done
Icy touches ground next to her kneeling form and encases them in a dome of black ice.
Why would she do that? Protection?
Don’t make her laugh.
There’s no need to protect a thing like her.
She's beyond everyone.
Stella’s eyes continue to stare at her.
How long has it been?
Is she still even breathing?
She doesn’t want to check.
She doesn’t care.
She doesn’t care.
She doesn’t care.
She doesn’t care.
“Dark Bloom, my mist isn’t going to last forever, you know! Restart your brain and let’s go, our job’s done.” Dark Bloom can hear the grin in her voice. “Better than done if you ask me.”
She can’t just leave Stella.
Who even is she to you, anyway?
Forget her.
She can’t
Forget her.
She can’t
Forget her!
She doesn’t matter.
“Blizzards,” Icy groans heavily, and yanks her by the horn. “Don’t make me drag you with me! We both know what unwilling transportation feels like.”
The audacity feeling of pain at the base of her head jerks her into lucidity long enough to note the dome beginning to crack from the outside.
She, they need to leave before they get caught.
Is Stormy already gone?
What about the fairy Stella?
Is she just going to let them all see her like this?
See what she’s done? She can’t.
Let them see.
Let them denounce her.
Good.
Let them fear.
She’s falling apart.
Two
things
screaming in her head.
Who
is
she?
Bloom Evans Bloom of Spark Some Vessel
Voices start to penetrate the thick ice.
Does she want to get caught?
She’s still hesitating, still staring at lifeless caramel brown eyes.
Black flames engulf her vision just as the ice shatters.
Yet she can still see those eyes.
Lifeless as everything else will be.
A head start.
A warning.
She’s still kneeling on the floor when the flames recede. She doesn’t even feel the negative effects of such a teleport.
Maybe she wanted to run away, after all.
No fairy to look at anymore.
Only the blood on her hands.
But they’re clean, unmarred by their previous weakshakiness .
As if nothing had happened.
...huh...?
“Looking for the traces of your first blood, snowflake?” Icy kneels before her and takes her chin between her fingers, forcing her to tear her gaze from the ground and look at her. “Too bad you burned it all off while you were having your little meltdown, that shade of red looked good on you. As I thought.”
There’s delight in the witch’s words, a kind of manic giddiness that makes her eyes glow.
That makes no sense. Nothing makes sense. The only thing that did make sense was the cold that seemed to snuff everything out of her. Was it Icy’s doing?
Burned it all off?
Then why can she still feel blood on her teeth?