The Burn of Ice [Gilbert]

[Deleted]

many times have i loved, many times been bitten

F

estivities had ended in their usual flourish of activity. The ballroom floor was more or less forgotten as elegant dancers dispersed and crowds turned their attention to the surrounding cages. For most, the mutant matches were the pinnacle of entertainment, the only worthwhile reason for attending the anonymous New Year tradition. The Russian, a regal masked bishop at the time, had stayed merely to catch a glimpse of who was put on display. Cheers and sneers proliferated in steady waves from the audience, though Ivan had kept his presence out of the way, quiet, and shamelessly curious.

Now, back in the Underground, the event had simply come and gone. Words of its juiciest moments were carried among gossiping voices, cell arrangements were changed due to any number of mutants having been bought - but otherwise, things did not seem terribly different. Ivan's initial hope to find at least one person to talk to had been fulfilled, as had his usual desire to find one or more mutants of interest. Even so, it wasn't likely that any of Ivan's future visits were going to be hindered. This had become too regular a habit of his by now.

Injuries were abound from those who had been forced to participate. He noticed that much so far, and it prompted him to wonder what that event had done to change the mutants' usual performances. The adrenaline and anxiety of competing in public like that? It likely wasn't all too different from how the matches went down in the better known arena, though Ivan did not care to attend them enough to expertly tell.

The air of the place felt generally glum, a touch lonelier than usual. The frigidity that had seeped in from Archadia's winter hardly improved, and would remain that way even with the approach of spring. The familiar feel of a cold nose and pink ears followed Ivan wherever he went, down long stretches of corridors, past unsightly holding cells and the occasional guard that stood with them.

Ivan should have realized it beforehand, but it was rather disappointing to think that he might not relocate those he had met at the masquerade. A shame, because he did meet some seemingly interesting humans - something which he was always quick to judge. The mutants, on the other hand, he might have little trouble finding again. Some faces were easily remembered.

And, soon enough, there was a hint of bright white that caught the Russian's passing eye. His steps halted and his body remained facing forward, head turned over the curve of his shoulder to look into that particular cell. He couldn't quite put a name to the face, but he did recall that this man stood out among the rest for his appearance - while unsure whether or not that made him more valuable than others, Ivan could now better view the distinct paleness of his skin and, were he to look and notice him as well, the bright ruby of his eyes.

"Hello?" he offered and, without necessary reason, tapped his finger on one bar of the mutant's cell. A smile rose naturally with his speech. "Oh, da, I think I saw you at the ball before. In cages, I mean."

Word Count: 542
Tags: Gilbert Beilschmidt
Notes: yeahwow not great

by worldie for jen