For ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fractalsfrozen | Ice Fae Sigma AU
There's a part of him who knew it'd end up this way. Cast out of the town he'd lived in his entire life, where everyone knew each other like family. In the end it hasn't mattered.
He was a warlock, a friend trying to poison their town with witchcraft and dark magic. Or that's what everyone thought. Change was frightening and right now it wasn't something they were ready for, Harold had feared it, but it hadn't been an excuse to not try to better the lives of the towns people.
Medicine and the advancements in it were not to be trusted, so he'd been cast out, forced out into the harshness of winter and the wilds to fend for himself. Harold packed as much as they allowed him, bundled up in as many layers as he could wear without inhibiting his movement.
The first few days aren't so bad, cold, but thankfully not windy. He's got enough food for maybe a week if he rations it out. Making a fire is dangerous, it draws attention and he's on his own, his only weapon a knife he uses to eat with.
In the end it's not monsters or animals or even ruffians that get him, it's the storm that hits three days in. The wind bites through his clothes and there's no way he could make a fire like this.
So he fights through blinding snow drifts to find a cave or anything he could take shelter in, but his body gives out before he has any luck. The cold is just too much and he collapses, still clutching a blanket tight around himself to try and fight off the wind and snow.
He was a warlock, a friend trying to poison their town with witchcraft and dark magic. Or that's what everyone thought. Change was frightening and right now it wasn't something they were ready for, Harold had feared it, but it hadn't been an excuse to not try to better the lives of the towns people.
Medicine and the advancements in it were not to be trusted, so he'd been cast out, forced out into the harshness of winter and the wilds to fend for himself. Harold packed as much as they allowed him, bundled up in as many layers as he could wear without inhibiting his movement.
The first few days aren't so bad, cold, but thankfully not windy. He's got enough food for maybe a week if he rations it out. Making a fire is dangerous, it draws attention and he's on his own, his only weapon a knife he uses to eat with.
In the end it's not monsters or animals or even ruffians that get him, it's the storm that hits three days in. The wind bites through his clothes and there's no way he could make a fire like this.
So he fights through blinding snow drifts to find a cave or anything he could take shelter in, but his body gives out before he has any luck. The cold is just too much and he collapses, still clutching a blanket tight around himself to try and fight off the wind and snow.