#From the Witchwood we rise and greet you at your door || Joy x Miranda ( spkyscry ) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

royalreef · 2 years

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@spkyscry inquired: "Oh, Miranda, do you have a moment?" Oh, here comes the local Coven 'leader' Joy, carrying a small, thin wooden box with a bright pink ribbon tied around it. "I was going to give this to you later but, well, it's already finished and it's going to be calling for snow soon of all things."

A roll of eyes at the acknowledgement of the encroaching weather, holding the box out for the other to take. Inside's a simple-looking necklace, just a notably long leather string to ensure it could go around the other's neck with length to spare, all to hold a charm at the end. Fancy metalwork around a gem, all inscribed with runework that looked like it ought to be out of the witch's usual ballpark, the bright blue gem inside alight with magical energy stored within that was being put to work by the metal around it.

"I didn't know what jewelry would work, so you can take it off the string and attach it to something else-- but, ah, it should help. I know the cold alone must be bad so I can't imagine how the snow must be- getting sidetracked, sorry. I've tested it and it works on the magically-induced variety, so it should do exceptionally well on the mundane. If you're wearing it, snow shouldn't be able to get within fifteen feet of you all around, so there's not even a risk of it falling atop you."

A pause, letting out a bit of a laugh, "and before it's said, this isn't work, this is purely a personal gift. I hope you like it. I tried to pick the crystal out so it would suit your wardrobe taste."

(I lied, Joy grabbed me by the throat for the spoon privileges briefly.)

She stops mid-step, blinking a little, like Joy broke Miranda out of a daydream. In a way, that’s not so far from the truth either — she always gets like this, when it gets real cold. Walking around like she’s perpetually asleep, eyes half-lidded, sometimes switching out her coat for a blanket, always on the verge of total distraction. It’s hard to stay awake, even inside, when she’s far away from a hot pad. Resembling, just as much as any of her classmates, one of the walking dead, always too slow to respond and too slow to speak, one misstep away from falling into a sleep like the grave.

It was almost an insult, in the cosmic sense. Below, beneath miles of ocean water and beyond the forever reach of the sun, the world forever remained just above freezing, warmed only by the earth’s molten heart that lay below. Too cold for some other merfolk, even before you added in the pressure and the total lack of light. Her body had accounted for this, had rearranged her veins to pass warm blood over cool, heating that which was too cold and cooling that which was too hot, had genes to make her grow large so that there might be more warmth for her to hold onto. She had antifreeze in her blood, preventing ice crystals from forming inside her cells and leaving patches of dead tissue in its wake. And in the water, she was as comfortable as she could ever be, using thermodynamic tricks to keep herself going without having to waste the energy on heating herself, on trying to fight equilibrium.

The land got too cold, too quick. She passed the same warm blood, heated by her core, over the cooler blood closer to her skin, but it didn’t warm up like she needed it too, and the freshly warmed blood from deeper inside her body couldn’t heat her outermost edges while the cooler blood chilled her core. The antifreeze still worked, but that was a pitiful condolence, merely preventing her from getting frostbite while her body cooled and cooled and dipped into unlivable levels, her body slowing down to match. Her heartbeat same slow, then slower, and then slower, and that pulse of blood and hot over the cold began to still, which made her colder, and so on until someone panicked and brought her inside, into the warmth.

All of that effort. All of that careful adaptation to belong someplace beyond all others for its cold, and Miranda was done in by every cold front that rolled through, every minor flurry turning into a crisis.

At least it was better than what snow did to her. What the combination of the cold and freshwater could do to her gills, to her fins, the kind of thing that Miranda had nightmares about, sometimes. Even if she didn’t like to talk about them, because it was nicer to think about how much good the land did her, and not what risks came with that good, and she didn’t want to tell her friends about the nightmares she had where they just watched her die.

There’s a curious chirrup from Miranda, only now registering that Joy’s talking to her, and then the box is in her hands. Miranda can’t remember taking it, but that’s to be expected, at least. Memory comes and goes, and if the staff expects Miranda to be slow to respond during this time of year, then surely everyone else is well past catching on. She blinks again, trying to find her words, opening and then closing her mouth, dry and uncomfortable. Give her a moment. It’s hard to think once the temperature slips beneath freezing.

“Oh,” she starts dumbly, tongue sticking against her teeth, her fins too slow to rise. She hopes Joy forgives her for that. Even with the heated lining of the blanket tossed over her shoulders, it takes a monumental effort to even be disappointingly drab. “Oh- oh!!! I- thank you, you did not have to-”

Even her appreciation felt like it too was sticking inside her mouth, which Miranda hoped Joy didn’t mind too much. Her hands were still careful as she opened the box, if slower than usual to ensure that she would not drop it. Too much experience for that to come out of Miranda so easily, too much time spent handling crown jewels and finery worth more than other people’s entire worlds, and even now, she was taking care not to drop it.

Her claws wind carefully around the leather strap, working it between her fingers so that she can lift it up and examine it more. There’s another blink, another tiny lift of her fins, where Miranda is too tired for a grander gesture.

“Oh, yes, it should be long enough.” She speaks soft, a touch more purposeful now, nearly awe-struck, eyes wide as they look at the gem, examine the runework. The light encased inside caught in Miranda’s eyes as she lifted, pooled in her rounded pupils, reflecting back in vibrant electric blue like someone struck a match inside of Miranda’s head. Joy can see her gaze as she traces the pathways, observe the workings and all of its terminal ends, the way it circles back on itself, the careful language of magic as it is taken from origin to creation. To speak in such a way, to have such an affect on reality, is a delicate undertaking, with many potential avenues for disaster to breed. Miranda is quiet as she watches and observes, as she sees the brim of magic within, the thrum.

It’s funny, that. Miranda doesn’t usually betray an interest in magic, and that’s quite a bit of analyzing she’s doing. It would require a certain degree of knowledge, to know off the top of her head what every piece of the work did, the reason for every flourish and the placement of every rune.

And then she breaks the silence, fins flicking up as much as they can and wiggling their tips, Miranda’s eyes closing in contentment. There’s a purr, vibrating in Miranda’s throat as she ties the necklace back, around her neck, with plenty of room to spare. Joy had measured correctly — but Miranda leaves little room for celebration, as her arms open up and she’s sweeping Joy into a hug.

“Thank you, thank you,” she breathes, still purring, even as her voice begins to take on that dream-like quality again, lured by Joy’s warmth, “let me know if there is anything I can do to repay you, it does mean a lot to me.”

She’s leaning a little more on Joy now. Her head is resting on Joy’s shoulder, close enough to feel the warmth of Miranda’s heated blanket, feel the purr in her chest and her throat as she clings. A little more, a little more, and— ah. The princess is falling asleep on Joy. That seems about right, even if it wasn’t the typical way that someone showed appreciation, but it was to be expected from Miranda.

#Glory and Gore || IC #Dreaded rumors || Asks #spkyscry #From the Witchwood we rise and greet you at your door || Joy x Miranda ( spkyscry )#(( GIFT........#(( i write something down very quickly as i keep this in mind for Later Plans-#(( and in return joy gets. one very cuddly cuddly fishcat.

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