Right.. Soo.. This is my first fic. Yay o.O
The idea came to me one night and refused to disappear, so I figured, what the hey, why not write it down? I'm not quite sure what to make of it. I don't like it or hate it at the moment really. Ah well.
I'm sorry for any grammar mistakes and the likes. My English is rather crappy, but I've done as much as I can (whoah, what a positive cookie I am..).
Hah.. -Endrant-
Cold.
He disliked cold. Always had. He did what he could to stay away from it. He did what he could to stay warm.
The search for warmth led him to the phoenix, whose eyes burned with a fire from within. He longed to touch that fire, to be consumed by it to the point of pain.
He sought him out, only to find that the flames burned like ice, not fire. The marks on his skin were those of frost, not the warmth he so longed after. Thus, he fled, leaving the phoenix to seek out the comfort of a man cold as the Russian winter, hair red as the flames he held inside. They warmed each other, the cold burning away everything else.
The tiger, skin burned and covered in frost, kept on searching.
What he sought came in form of a warm wind. The man, whose demeanor spoke of cruelty and coldness, hid the warmth of a summer breeze. The wind, once leaving marks of pain upon his frame, caressed away the frost he was covered in.
The tiger had, finally, found the warmth he had been looking for.