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With one more sharp hit, Frostwalker collapses. The snow is deep enough that the imprint of his body creates walls outlining it, like he’s the victim in a crime scene—not the villain. The whole situation is wrong, weird. Frostwalker is usually untouchable. Now he lays eerily still.
On an instinct drilled into him by years of compulsory first aid training, Vanisher sinks to his knees beside Frostwalker. He stretches two of his fingers slightly into the sleeve of Frostwalker’s infamous (iconic?) winter coat, feeling for a pulse. After a second he finds it, and the shudder of relief that passes through him makes him feel a little nauseous.
Vanisher probably shouldn’t be as glad as he is that the number of villain terrorising Ranked city is still alive.
Realistically, he should be unmasking the guy right now. It wouldn’t be that hard, not with him knocked out and vulnerable. Vanisher could just brush his bangs to the side, bring his scarf down below his mouth, and take a photo. With that many features uncovered it’d be a breeze to figure out who Frostwalker is. Then, finally, the heroes would have an upper hand on him. He wouldn’t know that they knew his identity. They could ambush him in whatever ratty apartment or abandoned warehouse he spends his days in before he even has a chance to don his disguise.
It would be so easy.
Vanisher’s hands don’t move.
He wants to say they’re numb from the cold, but it would be an obvious lie. There’s an impenetrable barrier between the snow and his skin. It dissipates before it can even touch him. He has no excuse. He has to at least try.
Vanisher finally manages to push his hands up, towards the hair obscuring Frostwalker’s face. He’s seen the startling, unnatural glint of his eyes before, when the wind split a gap in Frostwalker’s bangs, just enough for them to peek through. But this would be more than just a glimpse. He’d be seeing the whole upper part of his face. A thrill runs through his body at the thought. Seeing Frostwalker’s face. Being the only one to see Frostwalker’s real face.
He brings his hands closer.
As he lightly touches the hair over Frostwalker’s eyes, it releases a hiss of steam from beneath his fingers.
Vanisher jumps back immediately, because what the fuck was that? Sure Frostwalker’s powers do that when he touches them, but this is the guy himself. Is he made out of his powers somehow? Did Vanisher hurt him even more than just knocking him out?
He checks, but Frostwalker appears perfectly fine. The only difference is a stark black mark in the centre of his pale blue-white bangs. It reflects the light just as normal hair would but it… doesn’t make sense. Frostwalker’s hair is white - it’s stated as such in all the many case files about the villain. Pale white hair, shiny and reflective like… ice.
Hmm…
In retrospect, maybe it shouldn’t be too much of a shock. After all, walking around with white hair is far from normal for anyone other than the super old, and Frostwalker really doesn’t seem like he’s secretly an old guy. Vanisher had just assumed he wore a wig, many of the more distinct looking heroes (including himself) did the same.
Knowing it’s a byproduct of his powers makes a lot of sense and… it’s kind of cool (no pun intended). The guy has a built in disguise, one which can’t be ripped off by the harsh winds of a blizzard, nor found stashed in the wardrobe of whoever the civilian behind Frostwalker is.
And there’s an unsettling beauty to watching ice recrystallise on Frostwalker’s fringe as he lays in the snow, spread like he’s making a lopsided snow angel. The hair turns from black to white in little speckles, and Frostwalker stays immobile through it all. The fact his powers linger through his seeming unconsciousness isn’t novel to Vanisher—but it’s impressive anyways. He can’t help but stare, even as his brain screams at him to do literally anything else.
Frostwalker shifts then, just a little, and the very bottom of his eyelashes become visible where his hair thins out slightly. It’s hard to see past the hair, but they too look to be a pale white, thick and clumped up with what Vanisher can only assume to be snow. With the rosiness of his cheeks framing them, it forms just about the least intimidating picture Vanisher has ever seen.
As Vanisher leans a tiny bit closer, Frostwalker’s eye seems to twitch slightly, like he’s fighting against the world to open it.
And, fuck, that means Frostwalker is fully waking up. Vanisher wasted his chance to do anything other than stare. Now he has to fight.