A Christmas Brawl

Combing Through- http://pastebin.com/VQfxnKcV
Character Sheet/Logs- http://mgcyoa.wikia.com/wiki/Amelia

It’s a rainy Christmas Eve. As afternoon turns to evening, Belfast is a city of rain-slick pavements and rooftops, the first few flakes of snow drifting down and turning to slush in the streets. Drizzle mixes with sleet and dirty snow. People in the streets rush to get home under umbrellas. Cars pass by in the streets, their headlights yellow and red glimmers under the bright streamers of holiday lights. It’s chilly, and there’s a cold wind blowing in from the sea.

Two small figures are slipping through the thinning crowds. One’s wearing a hoodie with the hood up, her hands in her maroon hoodie’s pockets as she picks her way across the pavement. She stops hunching long enough to look around to her companion, eyes bright and cheeks red from cold. A glance around the street.

“Not long now, right? I think I’m starting to remember the way...” Amelia huffs, puffing her cheeks out a bit and shifting in place in a vain attempt to ward off the chill.

Alexa nods encouragingly, even as she scowls in regret at not having picked up an umbrella at some point. Her fleece is soaked to the brim, and she holds her messenger bag over her head in a futile effort at keeping herself even slightly drier. Still, she dutifully marches down the street, forging a path.

“Not long at all. Come along, right this way -- we’ll be roasting chestnuts in no time,” she says, casting the other girl a sallow grin.

Amelia smiles back. “Is that actually a thing?” she asks, stuffing her hands deeper into her pockets. She’d be tempted to transform if they weren’t almost there- at least that way she’d be warm. The snow’s coming down in earnest now, blown this way and that by the wind- and into her face.

“What? Of course it is! I know for a fact that they have that in America,” Alexa huffs, shaking her head in admonishment, though there isn’t an undue amount of force behind it. “You’re as bad as Kreimhild! No bloody holiday spirit between the two of you, I swear…”

“Hey!” Amelia protests, none too seriously. “I resemble that remark! I just meant that-wait, really, people still do that?” She shakes her head. “Ah...never mind.”

Alexa sighs laboriously, shaking her head.

“Let’s just get home. Perhaps I can jam a bit of holiday spirit into the two of you, if I really try,” she muses, shaking her head again with an optimistic grin. “Christmas miracles do happen, after all.”

Amelia laughs. “Well, if you think you can talk the Grinch into it…”she comments, shaking her head under the hood.

“Oh, pish-posh,” Alexa shakes her head, her smile unflinching. “She’s not that bad! I’m sure it’s just been a while. You watch, I’ll get her into the spirit!”

As if on cue, the apartment building looms into their sight. It is unchanged from the last time they saw it; tall, old and nearly fit to topple over in the storm. Alexa picks up a burst of speed upon seeing it, hurrying for warmth and dryness. Amelia jogs after her, a step behind as the two of them make it inside.

She tugs down her hoodie as she tromps inside, looking to her friend from the lobby. “Need a dry before we head up?” Amelia offers- she’s getting better at these magical tricks the more often she tries them. She’s already got her sword in hand, pulled from thin air. “You know, before bringing the spirit of the holidays to grumpy upstairs and all~”

Alexa shivers in the doorway, wiping her shoes futily on the worn, ragged mat just in the doorway. She nods eagerly at Amelia, almost skipping towards her.

“Yes please! I’m fit to catch trench foot, like this.”

“Well, we can’t have that.” Amelia comments, holding her sword up like a torch. Blue flames flicker around it, and the air in the lobby’s suddenly warm and dry- while staying just on the right side of baking.  “That better?” She asks.

Alexa sighs in satisfaction, nodding with a relieved grin. She shakes herself like a dog, as if to work out any more stray droplets, but finds none. She nods shortly.

“Thank you very much. I feel like a new girl,” she says, turning on her heel and tromping off to the elevator. “Hopefully we won’t have to go out in that again.”

“Hey, what happened to your Christmas spirit, all of a sudden?” Amelia teases, catching up to the younger girl. “Don’t you want to go caroling, door to d-d-ah...Achoo!” She abruptly sneezes.

Alexa snickers at her as she calls the elevator.

“If it were just snow, maybe -- but in that weather? Not my cup of tea,” she shakes her head. “Maybe we can get a fire going, warm you up before you catch your death.”

Amelia gives her a look at that. “A fire, hmm? Oh, I think I can handle that…” she replies, looking entirely too smug for a moment.  “I’m fine, really.” She reassures. “Nothing to worry about. Besides, we have all evening to get toasty now.”

She pauses.

“Hey, Alexa?” There’s a slight smile tugging at her lips. The elevator’s working its way down to the ground floor.

“Hm?” Alexa perks up, looking away from the door curiously. She cocks her head to one side. “Yes?”

“Merry Christmas.” Amelia grins at her, bouncing on her feet. The elevator rings, and the doors slide open.

Alexa looks mildly surprised, blinking owlishly. Then she smiles back at her, face flushing as she steps inside.

“Merry Christmas,” she echoes, punching the number for the top floor.

The elevator moves quickly, the dim chime of elevator music -- holiday-themed -- filtering through a barely functional speaker. Alexa rocks back and forth on the balls of her feet as it ascends, until a dull, high-pitched ring heralds its arrival at their destination. The doors slide open creakily, and Alexa hops out, humming the tune to herself as she walks down the hall. Amelia can’t help but smile at that as she walks alongside her friend.

Alexa raps on the door. It’s almost possible to hear Kreimhild force herself over to the door, plodding slowly. The locks latch open, one after the other, and then the German is peeking through with a narrow pink eye. Shaking her head, she opens the door completely without a word, and then tromps back over to the couch grimly.

Alexa lingers in the doorway, coughing.

“Um… Merry Christmas?” She says uncertainly with her crooked smile. Kreimhild does not look amused.

“I do not celebrate Christmas,” Kreimhild rubs her temple exasperatedly. Her words are slurred barely perceptibly. “You know this.”

As expected as this must have been, Alexa still looks quite displeased by this.

“Don’t be such a Scrooge, Kreimhild! Christmas is about, you know, togetherness and… such!” Alexa gesticulates awkwardly, glancing at Amelia as if for help. She gets a helpless shrug in response. “Chin up, ‘tis the season!”

“Hey, she’s right…and it’s only one night a year. Come on, Kreimhild, what’s the harm?” Amelia’s quick to support Alexa, even if it’s a little awkward trying to talk Kreimhild of all people into the holiday spirit. She straightens, hands on her hips. “ It can’t hurt. There’s gotta be something worth celebrating for you, right?”

Kreimhild glares at her, leaning into the couch like she means to recede into its comforting plush surface. She contemplates this possibility for a moment, then shakes her head.

“No. No, there is nothing,” she waves her hand vaguely in the direction of the rest of the expanded apartment. “If you would like to do Christmas things, do them elsewhere. Away from me. Out of earshot.”

Amelia sighs. “Bah humbug to you too...” She grumbles, not sounding too surprised, and glancing to Alexa.

Alexa seems quite unwilling to give up. She wrings her hands nervously, sidling over to Kreimhild. She lingers awkwardly around the armrest of the couch. Amelia crosses her arms, watching.

“C-come on, we don’t have to do anything fancy. Just, you know, something small and quiet and--”

“Why is this so important to you?” Kreimhild asks, cocking her head to one side. It’s a distinctly avian gesture. “It changes nothing about your life. You do not require this, do you?”

Alexa hesitates, shaking her head.

“W-well, no, it’s just… It’s tradition! A-and I always loved Christmas growing up, it made me feel, you know, happy, and…”

“It does not make me feel happy,” Kreimhild slumps down again, resting her chin in a hand. “Listen to carols or whatever it is you do in your room. I am going to try to find the one station not playing stupid Christmas programs.”

“It- it’s not stupid!” Alexa protests.

Kreimhild grumbles.

Alexa pinches the bridge of her nose, sighing.

“Did you have a particularly awful Christmas as a child? Because if so, that’s all the more reason to--”

“That is none of your business,” Kreimhild warns, one of her eyes flicking dangerously over to Alexa. That’s when Amelia decides to chip in again,  trying to head things off at the pass.

“Hey. So that’s a no on the whole Christmas thing, then?” The question’d be more convincing if not for the way she hastily steps forward a step. “If you’re sure...”

“It is a no,” Kreimhild confirms stonily. Alexa huffs.

“It’s a matter of principle!” Alexa insists, shaking her head. “It’s -- Come on, it’ll be fun! We can put some music on, and… Well, too late to string up lights, but we could put a ham on or something, and--”

Kreimhild heaves a laborious, tortured sigh. She abruptly rises, snarling at Alexa.

“Are you going to keep this up as long as I am here?” She asks, her lip curling, baring her teeth. Alexa gulps, shuffling in place and wringing her hands. Amelia bristles a bit.

“W-well, I mean, I’m just trying to, you know, help you have--”

“I see. Goodnight then,” Kreimhild makes for the door. Alexa, blinking owlishly, stumbles after her. Amelia’s a second slower to follow, frowning.

“Wait! It’s raining cats and dogs out there! Come on, I’m sorry--”


“No, no,” Kreimhild waves her off with a sneer. “This is your home, too. You two have a merry Christmas together. I will be out. I will return on Boxing Day, unless you mean to do something for that, too.”

She rolls her eyes, unlatching the locks with fluid, practiced motions, and storms outside.

Alexa dodders, long-faced.

“Oh dear, oh dear…”

Amelia looks at the open door for a moment, then to Alexa. “Want to go after her?” She asks. She seems more worried about Alexa than Kreim.

Alexa hesitates, staring at the door in trepidation. Though she shakes her head, it’s more in admonishment of herself, as she walks over to the door and tears it open.

“Of course. Can’t have her going around in this storm…” She trails off. Then she hears a noise that makes her pale -- a door slamming. Ordinarily, this wouldn’t be cause for alarm, but a glance down the hall reveals the rattling sign on the roof access door.

“... She can’t be flying in this weather,” Alexa shakes her head worriedly, hurrying over to the door. Amelia blinks in surprise, then follows.

“Wait, she can fly?” she blurts, following her friend, then nods firmly. “...Right.”

“Why else did you think she took the penthouse?” Alexa tears open the door, ascending the ladder to the trapdoor. Kreimhild left it slightly ajar -- sleet is already pouring in with the wind. She pokes her head over the top, and curses under her breath.

“Bloody Hell… She’s gone,” Alexa retreats back underneath the trapdoor, sliding it back into place with a sigh. “Unless you’re hiding wings on me, we’ll have to track her on foot. She’ll have to land in this weather…”

“Hey...” Amelia says cautiously. “Maybe that’s not a good idea. Kreimhild… maybe she knew what she was doing? You know her better than me, but she can take care of herself, right?” She glances up at the trapdoor. That does sound like a bad storm outside, but... She glances at Alexa again.

Alexa frowns, staring at Amelia with narrowed eyes. Then she shakes her head.

“Yes, yes, she can take care of herself,” she admits, brushing past Amelia and out the door. “But I… I’ve got to apologize. It’s Christmas, you don’t let your friends storm off into the cold on Christmas!”

“Wait up!” Amelia runs to catch up. “If you’re going out there, I’m coming too! At least transform first!” She reaches out to her friend.

Alexa stops short, sighing heavily. She rushes through her transformation phrase and the ensuing lightshow, her red uniform and black staff materializing around her. She spins on her heel the second it manifests and marches for the elevator.

“There! Happy? Now come along, we’ve got to find her!”

Amelia hasn’t wasted any time in transforming herself- she has her sword drawn as she rushes after Alexa. At least she won’t need to worry about her and Alexa staying warm…

The sight that greets them on the ground floor isn’t what either of them expected, however- seemingly from nowhere, the storm from earlier’s warped into a full fledged, almost Arctic blizzard of snow and ice that’s rattling windows. A gust of wind hits the duo like a slap in the face as they emerge from the elevator. Snow’s already piling up inside.

Amelia gapes. “What the hell? It wasn’t this bad just now!” She shakes her head, raising her sword slightly higher. The familiar blue flame flares up around it, radiating light and warmth, then flickers and splutters. Amelia blinks. “That...shouldn’t happen either.”  She gives Alexa another look. Her worry suddenly seems a lot more justified.

“Oh dear, oh dear…” Alexa shakes her head, clutching her staff for dear life. Hesitating, she nonetheless forges into the snow, calling back over her shoulder. “No doubt about it! Must be magical! Although, ah… I’m not sure how!”

“Point is, w-we can’t leave Kreimhild out in this! Got to find her,” Alexa plows through it, her boots crunching the burgeoning snow underfoot. “P-perhaps we should split up, to cover more ground!”

“Not a chance.” Amelia shakes her head firmly. “If it’s magic, some...something’s got to be doing it. That’s probably just what they want.” She’s not letting Alexa wander off into the blizzard alone. “We’re sticking together!” She calls over the wind, less than an armslength away from Alexa.

“... Probably for the best!” Alexa clearly has no time to argue. She stops at a street corner, thinking carefully for about half a second before continuing her journey. “Come on! I think she went this way!”

“Hopefully we can find out what caused this, too…” She mutters concernedly.

“We’ll find her. And deal with it, together. Whatever it is...” Amelia reassures her, her aura of blue flames licking at the snow and making stray flakes vanish in puffs of steam. She has her sword held out in front of her. “...Jeez, you’d think monsters could take one day a year off…” She shakes her head, plunging through the billowing snow clouds alongside Alexa.

The figures in blue and red vanish into the storm. The flicker of the fire’s dimly visible for a moment or two longer, then it, too, is swallowed up by the darkness.

=======

Kreimhild’s wings beat furiously as she tore through the air. She grumbles under her breath, considering, for the briefest second, to turn back -- but no. Blizzard or no blizzard, she needed some time alone; and it had been a long time since she’d found anything even remotely intelligent in the skies. The massive feathered appendages swish, getting dangerously waterlogged by the sudden storm, but she glides with a certain brutal grace nonetheless.

She closes her her eyes for a moment, letting the heavy winds carry her. Then they snap open, burning a furious yellow, bright enough that someone from the ground might think her a plane in the distance.

Something was wrong here. She could see the magic bleeding from every snowflake. This was terribly unnatural.

Dealing with this wasn’t her job. It was the redcoat’s and her blue friend. She just wanted to have a nice nest and be left alone.

But right now she was itching for a fight. She swings low, gliding across rooftops, observing the ley-lines running through the ground and along the sky. It had been too long since she had used her power for anything other than putting paranoia to rest.

For some time, she saw nothing that she hadn’t already seen with a passing glance; magic snow -- even worse than normal snow (why did she have to pick Northern Ireland to live? It was worse than Germany) -- and magic storms and magic running through the land and, of course, all the non-magical things bustling through the snowdrifts, gathering unnaturally quickly.

Then she saw it. At the edge of her awareness, and hurtling fast. She was suddenly forced off course -- not by a gust of wind but by something slamming right into her. She pirouetted through the air, skimming the roof of a building, wings beating furiously as she tried to orient herself.

The creature was magical, that much was obvious -- against the brightly lit backdrop of magical energy, it was a corona of light, enough to make her want to shade her eyes if her arms weren’t tied up keeping her aloft. Its signature was familiar, and she understood with a start.

This was the same sort of creature as she. She knew it by its mark, but more than that by the distinctly human intelligence with which it looked at her.

It -- she -- stared at her intently with cold eyes, as blue as the eyes of death. Her body was almost entirely mist; everything seemed to be in a state of constant flux. It was hard to tell where her long, flowing white robes ended and where her body began, as the skin was the exact same snow-white shade. Her face, at least, was distinguishable; bright red blush was practically slathered across her cheeks, and her hair was an unmistakeable black that cut through the snow.

“State your business,” Kreimhild crows at the girl, her beak snapping aggressively. “This is my city.”

The girl stares at her impassively for several seconds. Then she shakes her head.

“Not anymore.” Her voice was as brittle and cold as ice, filled with an unnatural, cracking timber.

“Do you seek a Christmas present?” Kreimhild snorts. Her claws flex -- flames spring to life along her talons. “I thought this was given, not taken.”

The girl does not respond. She raises an arm -- which ends in a wicked claw, sharper than Kreimhild’s -- and, instantly, the storm intensifies around Kreimhild. Snowflakes become icicles, and the wind beats against her, forcing her to dodge out of the way or be blown away like a leaf on the wind. She snarls at the ice girl, twirling in the air as she banks around her, keeping her in her sight.

“You are unfit to rule,” the immaterial girl hisses. Even this display of emotion is lifeless and muted. “Begone from this place, hawk.”

“I am an EAGLE!” Kreimhild calls back, snarling. She spreads her wings, gliding; the other girl tracks her the whole way, her hand swiping through the air to call another spell. This time, Kreimhild shoots first. She rolls, ducking behind the roof of a building and coming around the other end with a fireball in her talons.

The ice girl barely dodges out of the way, a strangled cry leaving her. Kreimhild thinks for just a moment that she’s melting. Then she turns to her with a livid scowl, waving a robed hand -- and Kreimhild feels a sudden weight on her back that forces her downward.

Snow. The bitch dropped a whole snowbank on her.

Kreimhild struggles to force the mound weighing her down off her back, but as she’s weaving, the ice girl is not idle. With an incantation that booms down the street, a spear of ice materializes above her and rockets downward. Had Kreimhild not banked at just the right moment, it would have impaled her; as it stands, it cleaves through her wing, and she cries out in pain as she begins gliding down the street. If there was ever a time for a tactical retreat…

The pair of them had met very high in the air; she has plenty of time to descend at a gradual slope, and the ice girl seems not to be pursuing. All she has to worry about is not slamming into a car. Eventually, she comes to an ungainly halt in an alleyway, her good wing beating in an attempt to steady her landing. Her claws dig into the snow as she slowly reassembles her disguise, her feathers receding. The wound wasn’t too severe. She was more worried about her pride -- and that infernal girl.

The ice girl would not survive the night.

There are stumbling, muffled footsteps from nearby and soft blue light flickers like a candle in the gloom around a small figure.

 “Alexa!” a voice calls down the street. A very familiar voice. “Ale-” The figure stops in its tracks, and stumbles into the alleyway, bringing the light and warmth with it. There’s a flash of light as it raises and then suddenly lowers the sword it’s holding out.

“Kreimhild? That you?”

 Sure enough, it’s Amelia. The bluebird. She keeps chattering as she approaches.

 “Oh, good...This storm...It plays tricks on you. Listen, Amelia’s here too. We...We got split up. Let’s find her again, fast, and stop whatever’s doing this. The three of us should be able to take it on, no problem. Right?”

There’s relief in the girl’s voice- it seems she’s forgotten about their differences in the face of the danger- or maybe it’s just having a monster that isn’t her to worry about. There’s sincere zeal in her words- she believes in what she’s doing right now. Things for her are simple- friends and monsters. Amelia stands there with her head held high. Her sword’s lowered and her free hand’s half- unconsciously outstretched as she looks up to meet Kreim’s gaze.

Kreimhild stares at her blankly, as if uncomprehending. Her form instinctively twists and reshapes itself back into her feathered, eagle-like form. It’s a ghastly sight; her hands turn into wicked yellow talons, and her arms sprout massive brown feathers. Her head jerks forward, feathers bursting along it as her jaw is replaced by a beak and her hateful yellow eyes bore holes into Amelia. She flaps her arms, testing her injured one.

Amelia falters. Her eyes have gone very wide at seeing Kreimhild transform. She doesn’t lower her hand, though, as she looks at Kreimhild.

With sudden clarity, Kreimhild recalls Berlin, many years ago, more than she can remember off the top of her head, and a girl who dressed like a Teutonic Knight and waved a sword just like that -- Sonya, her name was Sonya. Always so helpful and so eager and so noble until…

Kreimhild shakes her head, beating her wings aggressively.

“You find the redcoat,” she crows. Even her voice is different; harsher, inhuman. “It is a girl doing this -- a girl trying to take MY city.”

“If this girl is still alive when you find Alexa, join me. Otherwise, stay out of my way, paladin,” she beats her wings again. The wound to one of them is superficial; she can still fly with it, with a bit more work.

No, Amelia wasn’t the paladin, Kreimhild realizes distantly -- she might have called herself a paladin, but she wasn’t HER paladin. It was so hard to keep all these knightly girls straight.

Amelia blinks, taking all this in. “Wait, a girl? You mean someone...someone’s attacking us? It’s not a monster? Why?”

She shakes her head firmly. “If she’s powerful enough to do this, you shouldn’t go in alone!” She insists. Going out into rain’s one thing, but fighting another magical girl…

“We can find Alexa, then...deal with her. Maybe...we can talk her down?”

The ever-present howl of the blizzard says otherwise.

Kreimhild laughs. Ordinarily, this is a mildly unpleasant sound; now it sounds like a murder of crows cawing their heads off.

“She is of my kind,” she explains, working the kink out of her wounded wing. “The place where rising monster meets falling girl, you understand?”

Amelia winces.

“I will face her,” she shakes her head insistently. “Think of it like this! I distract her, you see. If I cannot kill her, then you will shoot her in the back!”

The deja vu hit her again. Had she done this before? She could recall Sonya shaking her head, insisting that it was the height of dishonour to stab an enemy in the back.

She hoped Amelia had more sense.

"Kill her? I...No. That...isn't right." Amelia swallows, looking paler than usual. Then, slowly, she nods her head. "I'm finding Alexa, right now. Then I'm coming to help you. Monster or not...." An awkward pause. She trails off, not sure what she’s about to say. Or who about. "...Good luck." she blurts.

Good. Good, she did. Sort of. She was foolish in a different way. Still, Kreimhild almost sagged in relief. It was fuzzy, but she could remember how it had turned out last time. Instead, she flexes her wings, preparing to take flight, and forces her beak to contort into a grin.

“I will see what I can do,” she says, her sickening sweetness returning. Then, bunching up her taloned legs, she leaps back into the air, soaring skyward. Her wings beat heavily, as loud as a whole flock of lesser birds, but within a moment she is mercifully gone.

The eagle girl clears the rooftops, twisting in the air and taking off. Her wing still aches, but she can power through the pain. It’s been far too long since she’s had a good fight. She’s gotten good at hiding since leaving Berlin. Perhaps too good.

The ice girl is still there, fortunately. She swings her head this way and that, floating on a cloud of mist. Or perhaps that’s all that remains of her legs. Her eyes are glowing a bright blue as she rakes them over rooftops and along alleyways. At last, she sees Kreimhild. Her expression is still impassive as she raises her hand again.

“Your cowardice is unbecoming,” she says, as if it were a plain statement of fact. A series of ice crystals condense out of the air, forming into a swarm of long spears. “Stand and face your fate.”

“Lie down and face yours!” Kreimhild lazily loops around her, her wings beating every so often and her eyes on the spears. They turn to track her, the ice girl narrowing her eyes. After a tense standoff, she finally lets them fly.

Kreimhild swoops low, letting them pass over her head to shatter harmlessly against the building behind her, and then shoot back upward. The ice girl had the advantage at range -- so Kriemhild closes the distance, hurtling down towards her. Behind her, the snows intensify, but she’s just a hair too quick for the girl this time. Spears fly past her ears, nearly clipping her wings, and her talons flex as black-green fire bursts from them. She’s so close now, and she weaves around a frozen chain springing up from the ground --

Only to feel a sudden stabbing pain in her head, like she had just been struck with a hammer. She staggers, banking to one side and sailing past the ice girl, clutching her aching head. Turning back to watch her foe, she sees a flash of perfect white teeth as the girl grins like a corpse.

It takes her a moment through the migraine, but she recognizes it: psychic trickery. The girl could have done much worse with it -- she could recall being frozen in place, her limbs locking up as…

She dismisses the memory, trying to make a sharp turn for another pass, but, like the girl was reading her mind -- which she might well be -- her wings suddenly stop responding. Kreimhild caws in surprise, twisting this way and that in an attempt to break out of the fixed dive. More spears materializing above her head, bleeding white globs of energy, pointed right for her. And then they fall, far faster than her. If she just had another moment…

A bright red circle of light springs into existence between her and the spears, which shatter uselessly against its surface. Distantly, she can hear the ice girl scream in rage. Or was that the storm? They could easily be one in the same. Twisting, Kreimhild scans around -- there. The redcoat was clinging to a fire escape, her staff extended, crystal ball tip glowing like a lighthouse in the dark. She grins at Kreimhild, waving as the German forces her gradually loosening wings to let her glide over to iron construction.

“Good evening, Kreimhild!” Alexa grins at her, though the nervousness is plain to see on her soft, expressive face. “F-fancy meeting you here! N-need any help?”

It’s a stupid question, so Kreimhild laughs at her. Alexa doesn’t look like she appreciates that.

“The situation is under control,” Kreimhild glances back at the ice girl. She seems to have lost track of her in the storm. “Bluebird is looking for you. You must find her, and --”

“N-no! I- I mean, I d-do want to find her -- You’ve seen her? That’s good, I was worried. B-but we’ve got take care of… whatever’s doing all this!”

“It’s a girl,” Kreimhild says exasperatedly. “Monstergirl. Like me. Wants city. Must kill.”
She really doesn’t want to have this conversation again, and Alexa, fortunately, comprehends this, as nervous as she looks about all this killing business.

“W-well, alright -- How can we help?”

“Find bluebird. I will deal with this.”

“Wh-what?! N-no, I… we should help you! Distract her, or--”

“She is an empath,” Kreimhild hops up to the next rung of the fire escape, spreading her wings. “She cannot be distracted. I have dealt with her kind before -- skilled ones, they cannot be surprised.”

“A-and how do you know this is like that time?” Alexa grips her staff tighter.

“... I do not follow.”

“W-well, I mean… it-- Um, she, I mean… She clearly does more ice than empath!” Alexa gestures around her as if to emphasize this point. “S-so maybe she’s, I don’t know, better at one than the other! S- so maybe she can be distracted!”

Kreimhild thinks back. The last time she had faced an empath, that had been her only trick. It had just been a normal girl. No other magic. Could this girl be inexperienced?

“Even so, it is too dangerous,” Kreimhild shakes her head. “I will take care of her. Find --”

“For God’s sake, Kreimhild!” Alexa shouts, exasperated. “You- you can’t protect me forever! Just let me help you!”

Kreimhild stills, staring at her. Alexa cringes under the force of the harpy’s baleful gaze, but doesn’t back down. Her yellow, glowing eyes narrow, and her head cocks to one side in a distinctly avian gesture.

“... No. I do not think I can,” she gestures with a wing in Amelia’s direction -- or at least, where she was a minute ago. “Find the bluebird. She is over there. Then join the fray. I must meet this girl again.”

She doesn’t give Alexa a chance to respond before she pushes off from the fire escape, her wings beating as she tears around the building and up into the air. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the little mage leaping from the fire escape, assembling a roughshod staircase of barriers to guide her to the ground.
Front and centre is the ice girl, glaring daggers at her.

“Why did you have to pick my city?” Kreimhild sneers, weaving out of the way of a barrage of spears. “I promise you, it is not this cold all the time!”

“The Holy Mother speaks often of this city,” the ice girl doesn’t stop her assault, even as she speaks in her lifeless timbre. “Ruled by a treasonous layabout who squanders her gifts.”

“Squander?” Kreimhild twirls, ducking underneath a sudden gust of pale mist bursting from the invader’s mouth. “Why would anyone say such a cruel thing?”

“You consort with the enemy. You allow them to infest this city like roaches.”

“I prefer to think of it as an investment!”

“An Ascended needs nothing and no one,” the ice girl raises a clawed hand, and the temperature suddenly plummets. Kreimhild jerks to one side just before a girl-shaped block of ice solidifies right where she was, and then falls. “Your predilections betray your weakness.”

Kreimhild stops abruptly, concentrating. The ice girl swings her claw about, channelling another spell. She opens her mouth to shout something, but her words are lost to the sudden gale that picks up, flinging her uncontrollably through the air. The mist that is her legs intensifies as she fights to correct herself.

The German doesn’t give her that chance. Channeling her power into her talons, she brings them together, black-green fire coalescing before them. With a noise like the crack of thunder, the fireball hurtles towards the girl, striking her dead-on just as she reorients herself.

“Power. Power is all that matters,” the ice girl huffs. Her hair and robes catch fire, but with a savage flick of her head the flames are extinguished. She glares at Kreimhild, and the familiar feeling of an empathic spell begins to reverberate through her head. “The Holy Mother provides. A servant of the Mother wants for nothing.”

Another bolt of flame answers her, but already, Kreimhild can feel the paralysis taking over her again. The ice girl’s concentration is unhindered. It might just be her imagination, but she could swear she sees a smug, satisfied grin on her pale face.

A blue flame shoots up like a flare, scattering the fog and snow and highlighting the pair in stark light and shadow. A second later, a bright red glow pierces the night sky from the ground. Then it quite literally pierces through when a beam of light shoots up like a rocket and strikes the ice girl in the back.

She screams like a banshee, whirling, her concentration -- and her hold -- on Kriemhild broken. The German grins.

“Nothing but someone to watch her flank.” The ice girl rounds back on her, marshalling her power for another strike, but Kreimhild is upon her before she can finish the incantation. Claws alight and slashing, Kreimhild clings onto her like a raptor, wings beating to stabilize her. The winds intensify, but Kreimhild’s own magic negates her control over the storm as her burning claws rend through robe and flesh alike.

The two of them dance in the air as they fall, sailing over the streets, locked in a deadly embrace. This close, there’s little of the grace that can be found in the wizard’s duel that is a purely magical fight; claws, fists and teeth fly fast and furious. And this is exactly where Kreimhild has the advantage. The ice girl is a brilliant wizard, but Kreimhild is the stronger girl by far.

The ice girl crashes onto the cobblestones with her robes stained and in tatters. She’s already scrambling to her feet, her expression as cold and empty as ever but an almost frantic glint in her eyes as she glares at Kreimhild.

Kreimhild doesn’t land; she hovers around the girl, strafing from side to side with a manic grin stretching up her beak. Cawing, she dives, talons slashing at the girl.

Evidently, she saw that one coming. A wall of ice snaps into being between them, Kreimhild’s claws skidding against its unyielding surface. All of a sudden, jagged stalagmites of ice spring up from the wall, nicking her. With a startled cry, Kreimhild’s wings beat as she ascends. Then, with a grumble, her talons flare up again, and the ice wall begins to melt and crumble.

The girl dashes out from beneath it, taking off down the street. She’s not retreating, however; she backpedals, facing Kreimhild, and with a wave of the hand chains of ice appear from the ether, wrapping around her harpy legs.

With a flick of her wrist, a gust of wind slams the ice girl against a wall. Then Kreimhild tenses, and kicks. The ice chain shatters like so much glass. Wings beating, Kreimhild leaps upon the invader again, claws slashing. Her claws briefly tear through flesh like paper- then she feels a chill and barely leaps back in time to avoid being impaled by a field of jagged icicles.

Behind her icy spears, the ice girl stares at her for a long moment, briefly touching her mangled arm with her other hand. Mist seeps from the wound instead of blood, and she doesn’t show any signs of pain. She opens her mouth to say something.

The air’s suddenly very hot and dry. A fiery blue comet streaks past Kreim and explodes against the icicles, showering Kreimhild with ice shards and meltwater. There’s the sound of approaching footsteps, and a pair of familiar figures runs up. The taller of the two’s still waving her sword around, the blade still trailing wisps of smoke from the fireball she’d just thrown.

“Surrender!” Amelia calls out, giving Kreimhild a quick glance before going back to glaring at the ice girl. She points her sword at her for good measure. “I don’t know what you want, but you can’t beat all three of us! Just give up!”

As if on cue, Alexa slips out from her position, half-hiding behind Amelia. Her staff is levelled, the crystal ball glowing threateningly, her face drawn in a resolute glare.

The ice girl seems to agree with this. She breaks away from Kreimhild and flees. There’s no parting curse; she just turns tail and runs for the hills, the mist below her legs flagging as she forces it to manifest and carry her back up into the air. She’s surprisingly quick, sailing through the air like a plane -- and with her goes the storm. The snow that has already fallen remains, but the winds die, the clouds part, and Kreimhild lingers in the air, nursing her own wounds and staring up into the bright, starry, silent night.

“That’s right! Run!” Amelia yells. “This city’s protected! Got that?”

Her voice echoes through the streets. There’s no response. Amelia lowers her sword, looking a bit sheepish as she glances first at Alexa then at Kreimhild.

With the threat gone, the German eases herself back down to the ground, staunchly refusing to acknowledge her wounds now that the other two magical girls are present. She reverses her transformation, pulling the human disguise back on. When the process is finished, she gives her dark grey uniform a good tug.

“Well, I think this was a lovely way to spend the night, no?” Kreimhild grins at them.

Amelia stares at her for a moment, then find herself smirking back despite herself. Whatever that other monstergirl wanted...they’d stopped her from doing it and everyone was fine. Kreimhild had a point there.

“A-ha. Ha. You have… Nevermind. Yes, just lovely,” Alexa nods with a thin, crooked smile, clutching her staff in both hands. “Ah… Shall we go home, then? I- I mean, w-we don’t have t-to d-do anything, j-just, you know, relax and…”

“... I have changed my mind,” Kreimhild announces slowly, sticking her once-again human hands into her pockets. “When we return, break out that funny guitar of yours. Play the bluebird and I some tunes. We will -- what is the term? Make merry.”

Alexa stares at Kreimhild like she’s just grown a second head. Amelia’s gaping too, remembering to close her mouth after a moment.

“Wh-why the change of heart?” Alexa asks, even as her grin widens eagerly.

“Well, a girl must appreciate her friends, no?” Kreimhild beams at the two of them, clapping them on the shoulder. Amelia jumps, looking faintly unnerved. “Yes. What is a girl without them? And part of being friends is taking part in your friends silly traditions, yes?”

“I...Yeah, that makes sense….” Amelia says, looking up at Kreimhild’s grin with cautious optimism. She mentally shrugs. If Kreimhild’s changed her mind…well, she’s not looking that gift horse in the mouth.

“It- it’s not silly,” Alexa insists, but without any venom. “It’s about, you know, being thankful, and--”

“Well, I am very thankful tonight!” Kreimhild starts walking, dragging them bodily along with her. “Come along! I want to hear you play that funny Spanish Christmas song -- I love this one.”