Fic: The Scent of Love
Title: The Scent of Love
Author: Eleanor_Ariail
Rating: Everyone
Summary: What ever happened to the scarf and blanket DG and Glitch dropped outside the Ice Palace? Missing scene, Glitch/DG, from Azkadellia's point of view.
Notes: This question has been bugging me bad. Just had to write it. Originally posted here. Also! I realized after I wrote this that Azkadellia has already dug up DG's grave by this point, and knows who she is, but we can just ignore that little fact, right?
Azkadellia walked briskly up to the front doors of the old Ice Palace. She had tracked them here and knew they must still be exploring inside. When she was within a few feet of the door though, she stopped suddenly, a horrible stench grabbing her attention.
She sniffed the air hesitantly. It seemed to be coming from a small lump, covered in snow, near the doorway. She kicked it, knocking the snow off and seeing a bundle of cloth. Reaching down, she carefully plucked the two pieces up, and held them as far from her body as she could.
She wrinkled her nose and drew the smaller one, a scarf, closer to her face, inhaling deeply. It held that same obnoxiously familiar scent as the locket. It belonged to someone she knew she should recognize, but somehow their identity still evaded her.
The other cloth, a large striped blanket, also smelled familiar, but not quite as much so. She had met this person at some point, but did not know him well. But it was not the basic identifying scents that disgusted her so badly.
No, it was something far worse, something they had each been emitting towards each other, some emotion. She shuddered at the very concept. And this emotion, whatever it was, was particularly revolting. She didn't even have a word to describe it, for as the witch, she had rarely sensed it anywhere near her before.
But the girl that still lived inside this body found it familiar. She remembered it from her parents, any time they were together, laughing, hugging, kissing. The scent brought her comfort, for she had not been this close to any such feeling since she had been tucked away inside her own head.
The witch quickly gouged into the girl's thoughts on the feeling. She mentally clawed and sliced her way through images of warmth and closeness, of a couple cuddling together near a fireplace, of two small girls giggling at their parents' whispers of love. Love. She finally hit on the defining word. Filthy, repulsive, deadly, romantic love.
So, her little enemy had found someone to love, had she? This was an interesting development. Alone, the girl would have been no problem. A mere inconvenience, to be disposed of without worry or care. But love, she realized, would make things difficult.
People did strange things when they were in love. They fought harder, lasted longer. They made foolish sacrifices, thinking of their other before themselves. Even after one was gone, the mere memory was sometimes enough to drive the survivor to attempt fantastic accomplishments.
But, on the bright side, when they did finally succumb, the victory was that much sweeter. There was so much more to torture them with, to use against them to destroy their very souls. Their final despair, after losing everything, would be beautiful and strong to the witch. It would sustain her for years to come.
It was with this heady thought that Azkadellia smiled and took one last painful sniff of the cloyingly sweet cloths. She tossed them over her shoulder to whichever of her followers happened to catch them. Burn these, she said, looking up at the palace in eager anticipation. Burn these, put the ashes into a jar, and toss it into the deadly dessert. She planned to do the same to their owners very soon.
Author: Eleanor_Ariail
Rating: Everyone
Summary: What ever happened to the scarf and blanket DG and Glitch dropped outside the Ice Palace? Missing scene, Glitch/DG, from Azkadellia's point of view.
Notes: This question has been bugging me bad. Just had to write it. Originally posted here. Also! I realized after I wrote this that Azkadellia has already dug up DG's grave by this point, and knows who she is, but we can just ignore that little fact, right?
Azkadellia walked briskly up to the front doors of the old Ice Palace. She had tracked them here and knew they must still be exploring inside. When she was within a few feet of the door though, she stopped suddenly, a horrible stench grabbing her attention.
She sniffed the air hesitantly. It seemed to be coming from a small lump, covered in snow, near the doorway. She kicked it, knocking the snow off and seeing a bundle of cloth. Reaching down, she carefully plucked the two pieces up, and held them as far from her body as she could.
She wrinkled her nose and drew the smaller one, a scarf, closer to her face, inhaling deeply. It held that same obnoxiously familiar scent as the locket. It belonged to someone she knew she should recognize, but somehow their identity still evaded her.
The other cloth, a large striped blanket, also smelled familiar, but not quite as much so. She had met this person at some point, but did not know him well. But it was not the basic identifying scents that disgusted her so badly.
No, it was something far worse, something they had each been emitting towards each other, some emotion. She shuddered at the very concept. And this emotion, whatever it was, was particularly revolting. She didn't even have a word to describe it, for as the witch, she had rarely sensed it anywhere near her before.
But the girl that still lived inside this body found it familiar. She remembered it from her parents, any time they were together, laughing, hugging, kissing. The scent brought her comfort, for she had not been this close to any such feeling since she had been tucked away inside her own head.
The witch quickly gouged into the girl's thoughts on the feeling. She mentally clawed and sliced her way through images of warmth and closeness, of a couple cuddling together near a fireplace, of two small girls giggling at their parents' whispers of love. Love. She finally hit on the defining word. Filthy, repulsive, deadly, romantic love.
So, her little enemy had found someone to love, had she? This was an interesting development. Alone, the girl would have been no problem. A mere inconvenience, to be disposed of without worry or care. But love, she realized, would make things difficult.
People did strange things when they were in love. They fought harder, lasted longer. They made foolish sacrifices, thinking of their other before themselves. Even after one was gone, the mere memory was sometimes enough to drive the survivor to attempt fantastic accomplishments.
But, on the bright side, when they did finally succumb, the victory was that much sweeter. There was so much more to torture them with, to use against them to destroy their very souls. Their final despair, after losing everything, would be beautiful and strong to the witch. It would sustain her for years to come.
It was with this heady thought that Azkadellia smiled and took one last painful sniff of the cloyingly sweet cloths. She tossed them over her shoulder to whichever of her followers happened to catch them. Burn these, she said, looking up at the palace in eager anticipation. Burn these, put the ashes into a jar, and toss it into the deadly dessert. She planned to do the same to their owners very soon.