Fairies, and Witches, and Dragons, oh my!

To Its Awful Rotten Core.

A murmur broke through the crowded sidewalk, "That's pretty."

Cold and statuesque Icy blinked at her reflection. The flecks of snow falling from her eyelashes attaching to the frost-covered image of her. The rumble from behind her was unmistakable, and with a sigh, she turned. Where her usual six-foot muscle-bound, annoyance was casting a shadow.

"...the sword?" She questioned said annoyance. Her head tilted, allowing more snow particles to drift lazily to the sidewalk.

Bloom shrugged. Her patched black zip-up sweater moved to reveal a gleaming set of broad shoulders. A gleaming set of scars, "I meant your hair, it's a new style right?"

Icy raised an eyebrow at the other woman. She was correct. This was a new hairstyle. Her cousin had come over earlier and wanted to practice on her and because she was weak she said yes. Now, instead of her usual sleek high ponytail, it was in two tight braids. Looped with blue ribbons intertwined and attached to the back of her head. Finished with a glittering sapphire and diamond hair pin. It would have looked childish on anyone else. On Icy? It was exquisite.

"Are you following me," Icy asked swatting away the other woman's hand as it attempted to make its way into her hair, "again?"

"...no?" The pause in Bloom's response told Icy everything she needed to know. Bloom had been following her. Again.

"I thought I told you to stop stalking me," Icy requested.

Bloom snorted. A puff of smoke came from her snout-indented nose. Her humor did not last long, realizing the other girl was not joking.

"...wait you were serious about that?"

Icy felt a migraine start to form in her temples, and before the thudding could perforate her skull she turned on a leather-clad heel. A new direction chosen she headed off.

Bloom waited. Bloom watched. She waited and watched the flowing sleeves of Icy's cropped sweater trail frigid mist through the crowd. The unconscious effort forced people to be wary of her. This in turn created an unencumbered path through the bustling sidewalk.

Bloom finished her waiting and lumbered after Icy. The broken tips of her laces on her dirtied white sneakers collected the grime from the sidewalk. Her bulky frame and long stride cut her own path through the busy Magix crowd until she was back at the other girl's side. Where she belonged.

Icy may have not wished for Bloom to be with her but she also did not have the strength within her to further reprimand her stalker. She was weak. So very weak.

So they walked. The two girls made quite a pair. Bloom in a pair of smudged jeans, and a patched hoodie. And when she moved jussst right the hoodie slipped to reveal a black wife beater. Loose from years of wear and tear.

Icy was the opposite, from the white fur that tipped the edges of her sweater sleeves to the pleated white mini skirt. From the diamonds and sapphires around her neck and ears to the sculpted white acrylic nails. Icy was a well-kept beauty. An ice sculpture come to life.

They paused in their expedition to idle at a crosswalk, waiting for a pause in the airship traffic. In their idlement a fear suddenly struck Bloom. A fear that numbed her fingertips, and set her stomach in stone. A nonsensical fear that Icy would refreeze and disappear into the cold winter. With only the crisp scent of wintergreen left. And this fear however unbiased took hold.

To reassure herself Bloom grabbed Icy's hand, interlocking their fingers. The roughness of her palm from the crevices of knicks to the callouses chaffed the other girl's hand. A hand created from the smoothest material known to man. A hand never burdened by a day's work.