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Scythe’s breathing became heavier as the air became frigid. The wind didn’t pick up, nor did the weather stations even mention the possibility of cold weather. So where was…
Turning around, she is (arguably) face-to-face with a tall, eerie entity. Judging by the pale coloration of its face, rather, its “pumpkin” for a face, she finds familiarity back to the library in Crossroads… Ghosdeeri, was it?
The figure only stood, its eye closed as Scythe didn’t bother to close the distance, her gear gripped in her offhand.
Scythe: [Unsure, but maintaining her cocky demeanor] Well, well. What do we have here? You lost?
The figure slowly tilts her head at the sound of Scythe’s voice, before letting out a gentle sigh.
??? : It speaks… good. It would need to.
Raising an eyebrow, Scythe slowly steps forward towards the entity, her grip on her weapon becoming tighter as she confronts the strange individual.
Scythe: You know, the Family isn’t fond of wanderers on our turf… Shall I give you a quick way out? Heh , I’ll make it painless.
Cocking her rifle, she aims it for the figure’s chest. If she’s anything like ghosdeeri, her weak point is right there. That beating, aching heart that’s begging to be torn apart, it’s riches spoiled.
With a swift pull to the trigger, her bullet flies.
And is caught, promptly in the hands - or claws, of the figure.
She slowly opens her eye as she opens her claw to bask in the bullet that has been shattered in her palm, barely leaving a mark on her dark complexion.
Scythe : H-Huh… I guess you aren’t fond of-!?!!?
The distance between her and the entity is closed, as those same claws wrap around her throat and hold her up. At least she can properly analyze her face.
One of her eyes is crossed out, injured. The other has a diamond for a pupil. She has bird-like talons for feet, bandages wrapping up her legs. Scythe could gauge she stood about 10 feet tall, now that she’s sizing her up properly.
Scythe: H-Haha… A-And who might you be, p-pretty thing?
Blizzaria: [Quiet, eerily serene and calm] Ignorance is bliss. That is what you teach your people, no? Your advice should be taken to heart…
No matter how much Scythe fought against her, Blizzaria’s grip on her was made of steel, even if it felt like being caressed gently and warmly. Motherly, if she could even call it that.
Scythe: L-Let me guess… Y-You one of ‘Deeri’s folk? She sent you after me, huh? G-Guess our first real encounter got to her head-!
Blizzaria’s grip tightened.
Blizzaria: [Coldly] Sure. You could say that.
The sarcasm practically dripped from her words, even Scythe couldn’t help but frown, as if she disappointed her superior significantly. The guilt she feels upon herself is foreign, but forced upon her like a hex.
Blizzaria: I’ve been watching you for some time now; Instilling fear in everyone you lock eyes with… Causing trouble… and thinking you still have the gall to ask if your victims want to join your little cult?
Scythe grunts as her head is tilted up, Blizzaria observing her expression with a narrowed, albeit tired eye.
Blizzaria: I do not know if you are bold, something to be admired, or foolish , and something to get rid of. [Her voice turns low, a breath of frigid, icy air hits Scythe’s face.] The latter would be easiest, wouldn’t you agree?
Scythe kicks once her ability to breathe becomes difficult, pushing at the entities’ matted feathers that they wear as a cape. There was something odd about the way her feathers almost felt alive, each and every one.
Blizzaria shifts slightly, her grip on Scythe loosening but not enough for her to be let down - her feet swinging helplessly in the air.
Blizzaria: When have you felt the coldest?
Judging by the lack of continuation, Scythe assumes the question isn’t rhetorical.
Scythe: W-When night falls during the w-winter solstice… T-The deserts become f-freezing…
Tightening her grip, she is silenced once more. Left to gasp for air and pry at Blizzaria’s tight claws around her neck.
Blizzaria: You should visit the mountains in Blackrock. That way, you’d feel the frozen dread that I carry with me at all times. That way, the next time you cross my daughter. . .
Scythe feels cold ice coat the surface of her glass eye, seeping into her socket. It forced a pained yelp out of her as tears well in the corners of her natural eye.
Blizzaria: You’ll remember, that I will freeze you from the inside and out. I’ll have a place for you in our home, a sculpture of my victim. A thing of my creation. Do you understand?
Scythe: [Shaky, taking deep breaths] Y-Yes ma’am…
Like magic, a sharp gust of frigid wind blows by, impairing Scythe’s ability to see Blizzaria as she is dropped to the ground.
Blizzaria: I am a merciful being. Do not make me return again.
She was gone. And Scythe was left on the sand, the metallic parts of her body coated with a thin layer of ice and snow.