The Cold Shoulder [Itakshir]

The Northern tribe's training grounds were alive with the sounds of sparring, that afternoon.

The lesson of the day was using ice darts to pin down a foe, and as usual, the best teaching method was to practice on each other. Rolling to the side to dodge the lash of his opponent's water whip, Itakshir leapt to his feet with a helpful push from the snow beneath him. Flinging his arm forward as if casting a fishing line, he snagged the other man's ankle with a thin hook of water, pulling backwards with a sharp jerk to yank his feet out from under him. Due to the nature in which he first learned to bend, his big (and only) advantage over the more sophisticated northern students was his propensity for pulling unorthodox moves based on practical skills he'd used back home.

Raising his arms to turn the water line into a trail of needle-like icicles, he looked poised to fire...

...and paused.

In that moment, his colleague sprang to his feet, using his own momentum upon touching ground to send a wave of snow out, knocking the surprised Southerner off of his feet. Before he even had time to react, his own darts were used against him, pinning him to the ground by his coat.

A good sport as always, he tried to laugh it off, albeit with a rueful grimace. He knew what was coming next.

"Itakshir!" The instructor barked, making him wince. "That hesitation would have caused you dearly in a real fight! You know the drill. Class dismissed!" As he and  the rest of the students scattered, Itakshir sighed: he certainly did know the drill. Two hours of target practice until he got it right. It wasn't that he couldn't aim--he knew he could hit a practice board perfectly fine. But when it came to actually using it against his opponents, many of the ice-based attacks they were learning weren't coming easily to him. Water and snow were one thing, but ice was different. It was hard, sharp, heavy, and potentially lethal. What if he accidentally hurt someone? Or worse? He was accustomed to using bending to facilitate his lifestyle and, at most, disarm or incapacitate people. The thought of actual violence just didn't sit well with his nature.

Trying to get up to get on with his penalty training, he found himself stuck. The icicles were still there. "Guys?" No answer. Everyone had left. Straining to move, he tried to melt it, but he couldn't lift his arms enough to bend them. Defeated, he lied back and waited for someone to find him.

Normally, he might have found the situation funny, but lately, he'd had the feeling that people here were treating him differently. Of course, even he wasn't too stupid to figure out that he was just some Southern rube, upon arriving at the North pole. The people and the customs were much different, here. Much less...simple. He hadn't thought that it should make a difference in how people perceived or treated him, but he was starting to get the impression that maybe he was wrong.

The young men, especially, seemed to not like him. Besides the fact that he was constantly reeling them around like fish in sparring matches, he'd also spent the first week or so flirting with most of their fiancees, blissfully unaware of the fact that the Northern tribe practiced arranged marriage. Now he was wary of talking to any female--no one had explained to him that he could easily distinguish the betrothed from the non-betrothed by whether or not they wore a necklace. 

Upon his arrival, the chief had called him their 'brother from the South', but he felt more like the village idiot that accidentally stumbled upon the big city, with his otterpenguin in tow. Sighing again, he stared up at the sky, wondering when and if someone was going to pass by and help him.

How old is she?

Twenty-one.

Married before?

Yes.

Widow?

Divorced. Though it doesn't make her any less viable, you know.

What about children?

Franzi sent another spear of frozen water into the wall of the building.

She can't have any.

How does she know?

She sometimes went out to the practice area while the instructor was teaching to learn what she wouldn't have been able to, had she tried going through the right channels. She also came out to release stress, anger, pain... whatever was bothering her.

They die.

Some nights were harder than others. Take the one she was currently suffering through, for instance. Passed over for marriage. Again. And of course, reminded why. She sent another dagger of ice-- the wall began to crack. Of course, only one or two people would even think to suspect her, but destruction of property wasn't something she condoned. So, that was off the table, but she was still upset.

"Guys?"

She nearly jumped. She thought she had the clear, that everyone had gone. Forgetting her despair for a moment, wide-eyed, she peeked across the edge of the wall, and at first didn't see anything... until she noticed that there was a person practically nailed to the ground. Granted, most people were used to the weather, but was it even safe to be on frozen ground for long? With all the sympathy of someone who also felt left behind, she approached him and slowly sat on her knees-- he didn't look familiar.

Against her better judgement, she laughed a bit at his predicament. "Need help?" Obviously. It took some effort-- whoever got him got him good-- but with a few waves of her hand, enough ice arrowheads were free for him to move his arms. She wasn't the best at ice, and didn't want to expend her energy when he was most likely better. She was more of a marksman than a fighter. He caught her at a good time-- alone, she didn't worry about what other people saw of her. If more of a crowd was there, she just might have turned up her nose and walked on. "If anyone asks, just say you got up yourself." She didn't need people to know that she knew more than she let on-- especially at the standing she was in.

He could hear the snow crunching lightly as someone approached him--the footsteps didn't sound heavy enough to be those of a man's. Knowing that women weren't allowed to practice bending here (he still didn't get why, but had long since stopped questioning things he didn't understand), it made his heart sink slightly, but at least she might be willing to run and get someone who could free him. He lifted his head up off the ground as far as his neck would stretch to get a better look at whoever she was...

...And was momentarily struck dumb. Mouth just slightly agape, he didn't even notice at first when the icicles holding him captive had been loosened. Regaining his senses, though unable to entirely shake the immediate infatuation, he freed himself from the icicles and leapt to his feet with the friendliest smile he could muster.

"Thanks, I thought I was going to freeze there," he said with a warm laugh, "I won't tell anyone--are you practicing here secretly?" It didn't take a genius to figure it out. He found himself becoming rapidly attracted to this woman whose name he had yet to even discover; besides being such a beauty, she seemed to possibly possess some sort of willingness to go against the rules, if only covertly. ...Or perhaps the fact that it was covert made it even more enticing. Was she single? Doubtful. Engaged, then? Married? What other sorts of things might she do in secret? He had to find out more.

"My name's Itakshir; I'm supposed to be practicing here, too," he admitted, grinning, "You don't have to hide over there if you'd rather train out in the open, I won't tell anyone." It was probably painfully obvious that he was not from the same tribe or nearly the same social class as her, but he didn't know any other way to behave.

It occurred to her that she should have been more careful-- after all, he could have easily ran off and ratted her out.  Ruining her chances of marrying and being happy forever.  She rolled one of the frozen daggers around in her palm, affixing his warm grin with a stare just as cold as the dagger, brought on by the very serious fear that he might slip up and say something to... Anyone.  "I didn't do anything." 

Questions.  She stiffened--he must have been trying to get information out of her.  "No.  I don't do that." But it seemed like he kept pressing and pressing the issue without really understanding its weight.  Maybe he was just a sincere bumpkin. 

"Franziska." She finally admitted, after a moment of searching his expression for authenticity.  "I wasn't 'training'.  I came out here to be alone." And look how that turned out.  

Looking at the places where the ice had torn small incisions in his coat, she immediately realized he wasn't playing at being a bumpkin.  "You know you were just put down by the oldest trick in the book, right?" Children probably knew how to pin someone with ice.  Granted, maybe not as effectively, but he still should have seen that coming.