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Kris never really hated nor liked the cold.
It was always there. Whenever they stepped outside on a snow-covered morning, they found themselves liking their sweaters and snow jackets more than they dislike the frosty nip of the temperature.
They wished that logic applied here.
They would ask themself, “Where did it all go wrong? When did this start?” - But they are much too aware.
They could say it was when they awoke with the SOUL rooted deep under their skin. They could say when they stepped foot in that closet. They could say when they sealed that fountain.
But truly? They knew it was none of those. It was the moment Noelle Holiday was left with Kris. it was the moment they engaged in battle, and the SOUL commanded Noelle.
Kris wished to know why. Did it start this out of curiosity? A sense of accomplishment? Perverse pleasure? The questions and thoughts stacked and swirled adjacent to the swirling blizzard before their own eyes. Was this real?
Noelle. Higher in the air than they want to count, her arms extended as she brandishes the ThornRing’s power. If she could scream, Kris knew they’d hear not her amusing shriek of surprise, but something that would tear her throat from the sheer force of the sound she’d make. It was a gruesome sound they put in their head.
It felt like it lasted years. Seven years of freezing temperatures and alleged “death” before their crimson, fear-struck eyes.
Noelle rightfully walked away. Away from the heart-shaped demon that comes when you call its name. With her gone, Kris was left alone.
Alone with their thoughts.
Alone with the iced tombstone in front of them.
They felt sick. Utterly disgusted. The outline of the boy Kris had forced Noelle to murder only served this sickness, a deep wave of nausea slamming into their body.
Was he dead? Was he alive? Was he conscious in his snow grave? They’re going to hurl. They’re going to hurl. They’re going to hurl.
He’s alive and conscious in there and he’s terrified. He’s terrified. He’s terrified.
Kris can’t handle this. They can’t handle this. They can’t comprehend this. Everything is setting in and escaping them all at once and all they want to do is scream and cry and hurt something. Someone. Anything. Their body is filled and tensed with every possible negative emotion imaginable and it’s excruciating. It’s excruciating. It’s excruciating.
Despite the innermost depths of their skull breaking itself apart in each direction, they silently stand in front of the block of sheer ice and place a hand over where his SOUL would be.
Kris never really hated the cold, but this coming winter is something they dread.