Fluffy, angsty and Dark...hang on a sec...
A look through Dalamar's eyes this time. He might seem a bit ooc but remember that after the alternate history I made for him (aren't I evil) our Dark elf's not going to be the most well adjusted of individuals. Sad.
Inspired by the lyrics below.

Ice and Steel- Eyes of Steel, Masks of Iron.

Because it's a great big white world
And we are drained of our colours
We used to love ourselves,
We used to love one another.
-Marilyn Manson, Great Big White World.

Winter had come late to Solace, with snowflakes drifting down from a sky turned the hue of steel. The vallenwoods were bare, their golden leaves long fallen and now lying under the blanket of snow on the ground.

The world seemed drained of colour, white ground, grey sky, black trees.

Dalamar's breath rose in white steam in the icy air. He and Raistlin stood on the edge of the clearing where, half a year ago, the midsummer festival had taken place.
It was empty now, the cold having driven everyone save the two mages indoors.

Dalamar had one arm thrown over Raistlin's shoulders as they stood side by side, looking around at the frozen ground. Looking at the desolation of winter that had forced others to flee as surely as the cold itself.

Everyone gone, just them alone and a colourless, dead world.

"Is this what we get," Dalamar's voice shattered the cold air into icicles.

Raistlin laid his head on the Dark elf's arm, Dalamar could feel the warmth through his robes and cloak.
White skin, grey eyes, black hair. Dalamar was just as drained of colour as the rest of the landscape.
Raistlin didn't answer.

It was so early that even the winter birds were not awake yet, the air was still and it was so silent that the Dark elf could fool himself into thinking that he could hear the snowflakes brush the ground.

"Is this what we get," Dalamar repeated, "When everyone is gone?"

Raistlin slid an arm around the elf's waist, under his cloak, makeing Dalamar flinch at the cold hand against his warm skin.

"Is this what they leave us?" Dalamar mused, speaking mostly to himself. "A blank world where everything is black and white with no shades of grey? A world of absolutes"
He glanced over at the young man at his side. White robes, auburn hair, blue eyes.

Dalamar smiled. "I suppose we make our own colours, don't we?"

Raistlin turned and smiled back, then wrapped his arms around the Dark elf and hugged him.

Dalamar shut his eyes and buried his face in the other mage's hair, hands sliding around Raistlin's thin frame and knotting into his robes.
Raistlin kept his eyes open, head resting against the elf's shoulder, black curls tickling his face.
Again Dalamar felt that strange almost-pain which told him just how much he loved the human mage.

Loved. So much.

And such from hearts colder than the ice around them. It felt unbelievable, but so, so good.

Raistlin pulled back far enough to place a soft kiss on Dalamar's lips, then tugged the elf's hair, urging him to bare his throat.
Dalamar lifted his head, smiling and shutting his eyes, letting the human ravage his neck all he wanted, letting his warmth burn away the chill of winter. A lick of tongue where his pulse beat, a nip of teeth under his chin...hmm, lovely.
So much warmer now, and he has been so cold.
Cold in Silvanesti,
Cold on the road,
Cold, oh so cold in Tarsis.
But warmer now, so much warmer that he didn't care if it would burn him in the end.

Burn, like Raistlin nearly burnt in Haven.

Dalamar bit that thought off before the enormity of it set him off shaking, instead gritting his teeth and tightening his grip on the younger mage.
Gentle bites turned to soothing kisses along the tendons now rigid with tension. Arms held him tightly as he fought off the thoughts crowding his mind, pushing them down again, fighting the old battle he had fought since his exile, against enemies which had followed him even here.
Push them down, bottle them up, forget forget forget forget.

He won, as usual. Held back tears, as usual. Tried to forget.

Slipped on the iron mask over his thoughts so no one would see.

"What's the matter"
Raistlin was watching him, face impassive.
Dalamar wondered why the human hadn't already guessed, but then which 'matter' could he pick out when everything was so knotted up it just became a huge ball of misery in his stomach weighing him down? Which one did he want Dalamar to tell? The fear of discovery when he was still in Silvanesti? The agonising loss of exile? The nameless, shrieking terror when the Belzorites tied Raistlin to their pyre- stopthatstopthatstopthat...

Still, Raistlin must have read something in his eyes because he didn't ask again but simply held him tighter, one hand rubbing the back of his neck.
But oh Nuitari Dalamar wanted to tell him, tell him eveything, tell him how it still hurt, so many years later. He'd told him so much already, why not finish it? Just let everything go, let himself fall.
But he didn't. Because even now he didn't know if Raistlin would catch him. Even now, no matter how cold he felt inside, no matter how much he longed, his instincts, honed from years of surviving by the worst of means and many more years keeping his secrets in Silvanesti would not let him give in.

Iron masks, held before all his secrets, all his most hidden emotions, so deep that even Raistlin couldn't see them all.
Iron masks, impenetrable.
Iron masks that kept the cold within his soul and let him forget, at least for a while.

The touch of lips against his own, warm. A tongue parting his lips and touching his own. Arms around his neck. Oh gods Raistlin I love you.

I just can't let myself trust you.

I'm so sorry.

I feel so cold.

They were out of the trees now, snowflakes falling and touching them, resting, unmelting in Dalamar ebony hair.

I'm so cold.


Yes, I know that was angsty but nessesary.

Skull Bearer.