Blizzard

Blizzard

His first memories are of an icy waste land stretching out into an eternity he will never touch. The cold doesn't hurt him it is the only constant in this world of killing white. He is too young to understand that he has been abandoned, that he is unwanted thrown way, forsaken. He is too young to understand that in this icy hell he was born and on this wasteland he will die.

Hold

He is drifting between dreams and nightmares. He doesn't want to acknowledge what is happening, the faint shift in the bed signaling the departure of one of its occupants and with them a little of his innocence. He wants to bury his head In warmth and run away from reality because it's too soon and he is barely whole to begin with, but he doesn't. Reaching out the desperately grasps the departing figure, trying to hold on to the strands of his life as it unravels. For a moment the world is silent, them he lets go pretending a piece of his triad had not just left them behind.

Title

He hates his title, not the ones his village gave him crimson ice dragon of the leaf, Frostbite, ANBU Brat, these titles he bears with pride and annoyance even if their all just another way to say murder. No he hates the ones they whisper when he must visit his home village. Demon, murder, street rate, leaf whore they are so true they leave a bitter taste is his mouth. The one he hates the most was whispered by a blind women when he walked by "forsaken child you'll never grow, mist child here you were born and here you will die, tainted innocence is all you have, do not think you have escaped, you filthy kin slayer" then she laughed. He hated titles even when they were true.

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