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Rotting. All Icicle could do was rot. It was infuriating. At first. Now, she just found it tiring.
At first she yelled at every guard, as if they would do anything because of it. They would regret locking her away. Why was she even here? Who cares if she killed a Nightwing? How soft is the current Icewing Queen that she has to lock away a princess because she killed some Nightwing?
They never answered her, nor even agknowledged her cursing them and their bloodlines for keeping her in here. They just ignored her, giving her some food every once in a while and leaving.
Eventually, she lost the energy to ‘fight’ against her imprisonment.
Eventually, after she lost track of the time passing, she lost the motivation to escape.
Icicle started making sculptures with chunks of ice and her frostbreath. It was stupid, but so was all of this. She reckoned there was nothing else to do other than rot.
They were bad, at first. She remembered Hailstorm showing her how to make little sculptures when she was young, and hadn’t been practicing since then. She remembered that Hailstorm had made a figure of the three of them. Icicle had blown ice onto the little Winter’s face and formed it to crudely look like a walrus.
She remembered Hailstorm laughing, saying they’d keep it like that, and then asked her not to tell Winter. She didn’t, but it became something of an in-joke between them, always leaving Winter bristling.
The first sculpture she made was a walrus. She didn’t like it, so she smashed it and didn’t try sculpting for something like a week.
Idly scraping the floor with her claws turned into her making another one, this time an attempt to rebuild what she remembered of Hailstorms sculpture of them. When she got to Winter she threw it across the room and didnt do anything for another week.
She had a nightmare, resulting in her angrilly carving another one. She made Scarlet, then beheaded her. Icicle realised how pathetic she was getting. Playing with ice to live out her murder fantasies like a damned dragonet.
Another week went by, and she made more. The blind Nightwing and the Rainwing queen, both crushed under her claws. She made her clawmate but held off on murdering her. She just needed to think of a way to torture that one.
Icicle kept having nightmares, fuelling her to keep breaking and rebuilding the stupid little figures. It stopped making her feel better at some point so she gave them blood. She didn’t care it was the wrong color, all that mattered was her satisfaction when she killed them. She made the Nightwing that Sora liked and made her watch her die.
Sora.
It was all her fault that Icicle was in here! The entire reason she failed at saving Hailstorm was because of Sora! If not for her little scene in trying to kill her (TWICE) no one could stop her from killing the blind Nightwing and from there the rest of the Dragonets!
It wasn’t her own failure. Icicle was so close to succeeding. Scarlet said even just the Rainwing would do. But everyone was put on full alert thanks to Sora!
Icicle swiped the sculpture of Sora into her talons.
Even if little idiot Winter still tried to stop her, she could have still killed the Rainwing, but no! No matter how little flaws there were, if it's Icicle, something is always wrong! And what was wrong here was that Mudwing. She hated that Mudwing.
As she gripped the figure of her enemy with just enough force to make it crack, Icicle did not allow her to think of the academy before Scarlet showed up in her dreams. She didn’t think about almost being tricked by that stupid naive school.
She didn’t remember finally feeling like a dragon when talking with her clawmate. She didn’t remember the pressure being lifted when she realised she didn’t have to speak like she would to another First Circle Icewing. How there were no stakes involved, she could just be a dragon rather than a tool.
Icicle didnt think about her first feeling at realising who tried to kill her being betrayal. It’s just, her? Why? Why would she do that I thought I was making a friend I thought she liked me. I thought maybe the idea of this school wasn’t a terrible idea. I thought here I could put the past behind me. I thought here I could be more than what I am to my tribe. I thought I could be something more than whats expected of me by my parents.
Icicle’s grip weakened. She was crying. She’d become so pathetic. Or maybe she already was even before this. She couldn’t tell.
She put the sculpture in her talons down, and didn’t look at it any longer. Icicle covered herself with her wings and tried to stop thinking.
Icicle was tired of wanting Sora dead. She just didn’t want to think about her at all.
She decided she preffered rotting.