Thorn could feel the sheer cold on his fingertips; so cold like he's gotten frostbite. However, Ice doesn't pull his hand away, even as Thorn squeezed his fingers like a toddler clinging to their mothers.
Ice's breath was misty, like his insides were made of dry ice. "You're not supposed to be here."
"And you are?" When Thorn's hand began to feel numb, he let go of Ice's fingers.
Ice sighed, the mist around his face thickening. He fixed his icy gaze towards the horizon, where they could see a playground and a row of houses.
Thorn leaned on the cocoa stand's table, blowing his numb hand to warm it. Ice was next to him, sitting on one of the single chairs fixed to the ground.
For so long the boy was seen with the warm scent of chocolate. Now there was only ice and frost.
"Maybe I am," Ice says.
Under his hood, his expression was well-hidden.
Thorn doesn't ask. Instead, he turned to the glacial elemental, his lips pursing in an unrecognizable emotion. Was this nervousness? Had he always been so hesitant to approach the emotionless teen?
"Do you know where they are?" Thorn asked. It was the same question he asked Quake before. "Our friends, I mean."
Ice's head spun towards him. His aqua eyes had only hollowness to its name. They used to have purpose, but now they only have permanent silence.
"How long has it been, Thorn?" Ice breathed, a bit of wistfulness in his voice.
"I don't know."
Ice pulled his cap lower. "I see."
He did not say anything else.
Thorn knew by history that Ice liked to be left alone, so he did just that. When he turned to the horizon, the trees have wilted, and the houses have collapsed.
A small white blower bloomed weakly under a withering tree, its petals finally dropping as Thorn passed by.