Scorching air seemed to form a barrier around him, working against the chill that’d spread from his step. Leo’s words resounded an echo of an internal voice he hadn’t had to hear in years. Confidence and reassurance, over years in grade school, left him standing straighter when others would bend or bow.
Fear shifted towards something that could burn, the severity and heat of Leo’s words threatening to set them both alight.
With his first step forward, the curve of the frozen spikes shifted, almost twisting in a snap. Initially, they arced inward, to form an almost bubble or barrier. By turning to the aggressive, they jutted out, angling down to point and aim for Leo’s core.
”You want addled?“ Another step, and the ice caught flame. Somewhere between his own rising temperature and the friction caused by jutting into Leo’s feverish barrier, trying to cool either of them down just wasn’t an option. Leo wanted heat? Then they both were going to burn. Whatever frost was there been scalded off rather swiftly, rising in thick gouts of steam that faded as they rose.
Another step inward called more stone to rise, spikes that started to come from outside the circle, in Leo’s direction. “I learned, Leo. I learned not to take shit like this — not to let anyone petty or pathetic enough to make who I’m into enough of an issue, to ever think they can bring me down again.”
Kaja was a witch next door. Unlike Rima and other casters who had set up herb and magic stores for the pagan population as well as curious tourists, she opened a small beignet shop near Rima’s. Only recently did she meet the other witches, a kind group and great company, if you were on their good side. They warned her of the warlock that moved in with Rima, and asked to keep an eye on him. After weekly reports turned monthly reports, she knew he was harmless, changed…even his blasted warlock trace had smelled less and less foul.
She visited him. Introduced herself. Invited him over for tea when Rima disappeared. Things have gone without so much as a spike in activity until that day. It was a surge of heat and cold and bitter hate and fear mixed in with defiance. Without much thought, she hung her apron, grabbed a jar of a reddish-orange powder, tucked it inter her purse and stormed out. Her hair tussled in absent wind, electrically charged.
**
Leo hardly flinched at the rising temperature. His eyes flaring as gold as the accented brushes of flame the built between them. The fear had ebbed from his aura like a fading headache, replaced by a rage equaled only to that which he found within himself. Before he could speak, the door of the shop was kicked in.
The witch stared at the two Casters for only a fraction of a second before she sprinted to them. "Ay! Enough both of you!” she yelled, reaching for the jar.
He turned to her sharply and barked, “Stay out of this!”
