Don’t stick two villains in a room together they said…
That’ll make everything all worse they said…
Had they not heard that two negative make a positive.
The life they had wasn’t much of a life really, but it was something and they kept each other company there in that dark dismal prison cell. He’d been convicted, not for hunting fairies, but for hunting…well…drugs. The man lost his wife (the woman wasn’t much worth it anyhow) and his job, he need to make a living somehow.
Icy, she was slapped in there for the usual; trying to take over the world, stealing powers, harassing Bloom, and this time disorderly conduct…or something like that, it was just another thing to the list, Icy made no special note of it.
There wasn’t really much to do in that tight room aside from making pointless conversation…and pointless it was, there were no fun stories to tell after all memories were shared as nothing new really ever happened.
Nothing that the other didn’t already know of. News travels fast from cell to cell.
Terry was beaten by his cell mate. Jessaclaire may or may not be pregnant. Rob and Jeff made a death pact and refuse to eat. The news was never good.
And so Gantlos and Icy kept to each other, and on certain nights themselves alone…like in the beginning.
The two had been rather opposed to rooming with each other in the beginning—hell Icy didn’t even think male/female rooming was even allowed within the prison. But apparently the other cells were over crowded or something of the nature, so the two were bunched together under the notion ‘he’s not a rapist or anything…just a drug dealer.’
The two didn’t even utter a word to each other for nearly two months.
They simply acknowledged the other’s presence in the room and pretended like it wasn’t actually there…especially when matters of using the restroom were concerned.
How uncomfortable.
As it would have it, Icy’s ‘favorite’ guard…Terence was decided to be a bigger asshole than usual. Gantlos made a rather snide remark about the officer. Conversation made way from there.
Gantlos would ease Icy’s mind with ridiculous stories of all the idiotic things Duman had done, and Icy would enthrall him with stories of Stormy’s blunders.
Somewhere down the lines, Icy and Gantlos both lost count of the days, the two had found themselves something more than a ‘telling stupid stories level’ where relationships were concerned. Yet inmate relationships were strictly forbidden, so they weren’t quite at the ‘joyful lovers’ level.
But that didn’t stop the man from reminding her that she was beautiful despite the prison-tangled hair and the gaudy uniform they were all forced to wear. And ironically she kept him warm through the night.
So they found themselves on the ‘secret-unlawful-forbidden lovers’ level.
Neither of the two every bought up the elephants in the room; whose sentence ends first or how long before execution…or if either were on death row at all for that matter.
Icy didn’t have to worry much about Gantlos being on death row. However, unknown the man were the amount of times executing Icy was laid out on the table as an option for dealing with the witch. Half of them claimed that taking her life was unjust as she never actually aimed to kill, the other claiming that she was too dangerous and never stayed put…always broke out.
The option was on the table at that moment.
As she lie in the dark next to Gantlos the debate carried out.
She had a bad feeling about this one…
She’d gotten lucky all too many times.
Figures, the one time she thought of calling it quits on all the evil to settle down, buy a nice house, and just live out life with her former cellmate, is the one time a second chance wasn’t offered.
He was asleep. She found herself snuggling much closer to him at the thought of her own death.
She’d never really feared death…so long as it came as a natural thing, or an accident. But the anticipation of being strapped to an electric chair—or even probed with a needle sent a shiver across her body. So she moved in closer…clutching his prison robes tighter in her fists.
Icy didn’t want to die…not like that.
Not when she found something (aside from power and domination) to live for…
The man rolled over in his sleep and wrapped his arm around the witch. She wondered when the last night of feeling his arm around her would be. Tomorrow night…the night after…
She felt his lips on her forehead…perhaps he was awake after all. Perhaps her clutching had woken him.
She let her eyes flutter shut, pretending that the snuggling and clutching was something that happened while she was sleeping, not something that happened out of conscious thought.
The door to their cell screeched open the next morning. Icy found herself being hoisted up and marched out.
“See ya after lunch I guess.” Gantlos muttered in a sleepy haze.
“Yeah…after lunch…” she let the silence hang. She didn’t look up.
She waited until she was out of his line of sight before letting her legs buckle. They’d have to drag her away. Defiant ‘til the end…
Afraid ‘til the end.
Even if she wanted to stand up and march out of life proudly, she couldn’t bring herself to do so.
One of the guards barked an order before roughly tugging her to her feet. She let her face render blank. The man…of course it was Terence…shoved her into a lonely white room.
“You have two options.” He stated firmly. “And woman, you better pick the right one. I’ve been fighting day in and day out—despite the fact that you insist on being a pain in my ass—to keep you alive.” He paused. “You can start your walk to death row now…or you can stay put, finish your sentence, and move on. Stripped of you magic abilities that is.”
Icy looked up at the man.
“So what’s it gonna be?”
***
He saw her after lunch. She dropped some leftovers on to his desk, threatening that if he didn’t appreciate them that she wouldn’t cook him dinner. And she always held true to that.
Not only that but she’d make him clean their apartment.
It wasn’t a big one, but it was big enough that he’d complain upon having to tidy it up. Of course the witch had kept the house clean…but for the sake of punishing him she’d find a way to make a mess of it just so he could clean it.
The two didn’t have any children to make the mess for her…but Gantlos at least, was hoping.
She cupped her hand over his, drumming her index finger against his wrist. Her touch was warm.
She was warm.
That’ll make everything all worse they said…
Had they not heard that two negative make a positive.
The life they had wasn’t much of a life really, but it was something and they kept each other company there in that dark dismal prison cell. He’d been convicted, not for hunting fairies, but for hunting…well…drugs. The man lost his wife (the woman wasn’t much worth it anyhow) and his job, he need to make a living somehow.
Icy, she was slapped in there for the usual; trying to take over the world, stealing powers, harassing Bloom, and this time disorderly conduct…or something like that, it was just another thing to the list, Icy made no special note of it.
There wasn’t really much to do in that tight room aside from making pointless conversation…and pointless it was, there were no fun stories to tell after all memories were shared as nothing new really ever happened.
Nothing that the other didn’t already know of. News travels fast from cell to cell.
Terry was beaten by his cell mate. Jessaclaire may or may not be pregnant. Rob and Jeff made a death pact and refuse to eat. The news was never good.
And so Gantlos and Icy kept to each other, and on certain nights themselves alone…like in the beginning.
The two had been rather opposed to rooming with each other in the beginning—hell Icy didn’t even think male/female rooming was even allowed within the prison. But apparently the other cells were over crowded or something of the nature, so the two were bunched together under the notion ‘he’s not a rapist or anything…just a drug dealer.’
The two didn’t even utter a word to each other for nearly two months.
They simply acknowledged the other’s presence in the room and pretended like it wasn’t actually there…especially when matters of using the restroom were concerned.
How uncomfortable.
As it would have it, Icy’s ‘favorite’ guard…Terence was decided to be a bigger asshole than usual. Gantlos made a rather snide remark about the officer. Conversation made way from there.
Gantlos would ease Icy’s mind with ridiculous stories of all the idiotic things Duman had done, and Icy would enthrall him with stories of Stormy’s blunders.
Somewhere down the lines, Icy and Gantlos both lost count of the days, the two had found themselves something more than a ‘telling stupid stories level’ where relationships were concerned. Yet inmate relationships were strictly forbidden, so they weren’t quite at the ‘joyful lovers’ level.
But that didn’t stop the man from reminding her that she was beautiful despite the prison-tangled hair and the gaudy uniform they were all forced to wear. And ironically she kept him warm through the night.
So they found themselves on the ‘secret-unlawful-forbidden lovers’ level.
Neither of the two every bought up the elephants in the room; whose sentence ends first or how long before execution…or if either were on death row at all for that matter.
Icy didn’t have to worry much about Gantlos being on death row. However, unknown the man were the amount of times executing Icy was laid out on the table as an option for dealing with the witch. Half of them claimed that taking her life was unjust as she never actually aimed to kill, the other claiming that she was too dangerous and never stayed put…always broke out.
The option was on the table at that moment.
As she lie in the dark next to Gantlos the debate carried out.
She had a bad feeling about this one…
She’d gotten lucky all too many times.
Figures, the one time she thought of calling it quits on all the evil to settle down, buy a nice house, and just live out life with her former cellmate, is the one time a second chance wasn’t offered.
He was asleep. She found herself snuggling much closer to him at the thought of her own death.
She’d never really feared death…so long as it came as a natural thing, or an accident. But the anticipation of being strapped to an electric chair—or even probed with a needle sent a shiver across her body. So she moved in closer…clutching his prison robes tighter in her fists.
Icy didn’t want to die…not like that.
Not when she found something (aside from power and domination) to live for…
The man rolled over in his sleep and wrapped his arm around the witch. She wondered when the last night of feeling his arm around her would be. Tomorrow night…the night after…
She felt his lips on her forehead…perhaps he was awake after all. Perhaps her clutching had woken him.
She let her eyes flutter shut, pretending that the snuggling and clutching was something that happened while she was sleeping, not something that happened out of conscious thought.
The door to their cell screeched open the next morning. Icy found herself being hoisted up and marched out.
“See ya after lunch I guess.” Gantlos muttered in a sleepy haze.
“Yeah…after lunch…” she let the silence hang. She didn’t look up.
She waited until she was out of his line of sight before letting her legs buckle. They’d have to drag her away. Defiant ‘til the end…
Afraid ‘til the end.
Even if she wanted to stand up and march out of life proudly, she couldn’t bring herself to do so.
One of the guards barked an order before roughly tugging her to her feet. She let her face render blank. The man…of course it was Terence…shoved her into a lonely white room.
“You have two options.” He stated firmly. “And woman, you better pick the right one. I’ve been fighting day in and day out—despite the fact that you insist on being a pain in my ass—to keep you alive.” He paused. “You can start your walk to death row now…or you can stay put, finish your sentence, and move on. Stripped of you magic abilities that is.”
Icy looked up at the man.
“So what’s it gonna be?”
***
He saw her after lunch. She dropped some leftovers on to his desk, threatening that if he didn’t appreciate them that she wouldn’t cook him dinner. And she always held true to that.
Not only that but she’d make him clean their apartment.
It wasn’t a big one, but it was big enough that he’d complain upon having to tidy it up. Of course the witch had kept the house clean…but for the sake of punishing him she’d find a way to make a mess of it just so he could clean it.
The two didn’t have any children to make the mess for her…but Gantlos at least, was hoping.
She cupped her hand over his, drumming her index finger against his wrist. Her touch was warm.
She was warm.
