Chapter Text
Darcy shuts the evil Trix dormitory door behind her as quietly as she can. It’s late enough in the night that it’s early in the morning, and she has little desire to be discovered by her sisters.
Normally, she’d use even more precaution. A spell of silence, or a spell of inattention that would make people forget she’s even there. Normally, she isn’t so deep in thought.
Her cheek still feels warm, which is absolutely disgusting. It’s been hours. This isn’t remotely what Icy feels towards Bloom, and she’ll stand by that. Unlike Icy or Stormy, Darcy isn’t prone towards amazingly strong emotions. She’s more controlled than that.
If she wasn't, she’d be in trouble.
“You’re finally back,” Icy says. For a fraction of a moment, Darcy freezes, then molds back into fluid motion, as if nothing happened.
Unfortunately, Icy’s eyes can be as clever as her own when she’s focused. The Witch of Dark Ice is sitting on the evil couch, poised too tightly to be anything but. Only a single candle lights the room, and everything is dim. Her eyes glow in the darkness. They stare deeply at Darcy.
They are cold in a way Darcy hasn’t seen for a long, long time.
“I was researching,” Darcy says, answering a question before Icy can ask it. “In the city, about the Dragon Flame.” Not a lie. Not talking about Stella is also not a lie, no matter how much of a fuss people kick up about omissions.
“Anything of use?”
A shake of the head. “Nothing but history.”
The darkness envelopes them, Darcy’s element. She should feel at home.
The quiet is loud. Icy is as still as a statue. Then she stands on two feet, and Darcy tenses.
“Tomorrow,” Icy says, making her way towards Darcy. Each step leaving a spider-web of frost behind, “we’ll take it.”
The taking of the Dragon Flame. Darcy feels a pang in the back of her head. This will mark the end of the Trix-Winx alliance.
For the first time in her life, her mind is failing her. She cannot find the words, cannot tell Icy that Stella would help, not in a way that won’t inspire more questions. Instead, she nods, ignoring guilt she should not feel.
“I’ll be ready,” Darcy says. Icy is in front of her now, as still as her element. Darcy doesn’t need to struggle against going tense underneath Icy’s attention, but it’s tempting regardless.
Then Icy reaches out towards her, and Darcy’s blood runs cold.
Icy’s fingers are long, elegant things. They pinch at something upon her shoulder, pulling back for better observance. Between her thumb and forefinger is a single, sparkling shimmer. It’s bright and warm, like the magic of the sun, moon, and stars. Stella’s essence.
She expects a fight. Her entire body goes tense, ready for a quick teleportation or a defensive spell. She expects, at least, questions. Questions she can’t answer, or she’ll have to lie through. She’s not entirely worried. It’s not hard to lie. Out of the three of them, she does it best.
She expects something.
So when Icy gives her a piercing look, there’s already subtle magic on her fingertips.
But there’s nothing to defend against. Icy pins her to the ground with her stare, then Icy turns away and walks back to her bedroom with quiet, measured footsteps. The door shuts behind her, a small click that echoes around the dormitory. Darcy stares at it, and doesn’t envy the choices her leader has to make.
---
Bloom wakes up in the morning feeling like she’s been hit by a train. The sun shines, like, right into her eyes. She wonders if Stella has the power to turn it off, then decides she’s too tired to go ask her.
With a sigh, Bloom rolls over and shoves the covers over her head.
She’s half way back to dreamland when there’s a knock on the door. Bloom decides she’s too tired to deal with that, too, and ignores it.
Only, like most problems, ignoring it doesn’t make it go away. It only gets worse. Another knock. Bloom, determined to sleep, takes her pillow and shoves it over her head. Thankfully, Flora is the world’s specialist girl, and she’s the one who is willing to get up and take care of it. Bloom doesn’t see the rest, she’s just glad it’s quiet.
Flora opens the door to Stella on the other side. They break out into twin smiles. Glitter is exchanged. Stella points at the bump underneath the covers known as Bloom, then raises an eyebrow. Flora nods. Stella holds up five fingers, and Flora nods again. She slips out, as quiet as a mouse, and the door closes.
Bloom’s warning is the thump, thump of feet on wood. Her eyes fly wide open. It’s the only thing she manages to do.
A great force flops atop her. The wind leaves her lungs in one, giant ‘WOOF’. Over the heavy covers, Stella wraps her arms around Bloom’s waist in a cocoon, and starts to rock her back and forth.
“Wakeup!Wakeup!Wakeup!” Stella yells, giving Bloom just enough room to wiggle her face out from under the covers.
“Ahh!” Bloom yells out a yell-y yell. One that only gets yell-y-er when Stella latches her mouth onto Bloom’s neck (nice), blows out a big, wet raspberry (ah!!) and forces sensation upon the helpless fire fairy. “Ohfuckpleasehavemercy!” Bloom squeaks out, dissolving into a fit of tickled laughter that makes Stella smirk.
“Oh good, you’re awake,” Stella says, removing mouth from skin. Bloom can’t even bring herself to blush, too disoriented from a torture even witches would flinch from. “Sleep well?”
“Yeah,” Bloom says with a wavering voice.
Since Domino, she’s been able to sleep. In some ways that trip was worth it, but if she could go back and change it, she’d never have gone in the first place.
“I take it you did too?” Bloom says, shooting Stella a withering pout that has Stella, infuriatingly, purring in amusement.
“You bet your cute little butt I did,” Stella says, stretching out like a cat atop Bloom’s duvet wrapped form. “But I always get my beauty sleep. Isn’t that obvious?”
“You think my butt’s cute?” Bloom asks, and Stella lets a giggle out.
“Like, so cute. You’re wife material, babe.”
That actually gets a blush out of Bloom. She hasn’t exactly forgotten about the amazing kiss Stella gave her on Domino. She smiles, it’s slightly shy, but her curious eyes look Stella over. The princess of Solaria, always clever, elaborates.
”I thought about opening up the harem for you when I became queen. Now that I know you’re a princess, I think I could just swing you being my queen consort.”
“That’s actually very sweet,” Bloom says, only half keeping up. A harem? They have harems in Solaria? Oh, she has got to read up on that. “What’s a queen consort?”
“The non-ruling wife. If I took a husband, they’d be king consort, for instance.”
“Oh, baller.” Bloom nods, kind of enjoying the concept. “Being the actual ruling one sounds like a lot of work.”
“So much work,” Stella says with an already tired sigh. “That’s why I gotta get my beauty sleep in while I can.”
A thought comes to Bloom. She frowns. “Wait, what about the girls? Would they be part of the harem?”
“Please, Bloom,” Stella says with an arrogance only royalty could muster. “I’ve already thought of everything. Musa is the most sensitive out of us, so she’d get to be the first wife. Even though she’d be the second wife, Tecna would be in charge of the harem itself, because she’s the best at organizing. Flora doesn’t like attention, so she can be the third wife.”
“Wow,” Bloom says in actual awe. “You really did think everything through.”
“Duh, forethought is one of my many talents.”
“Second only to fashion, naturally,” Bloom says, deadpan.
“Naturally,” Stella says, deadpan. There’s a beat of silence, then they both dissolve into giggles. Stella rolls to the side, and Bloom opens up the covers. They make comfort pressed against each other. Stella leans an easy head against Bloom’s shoulder. Bloom gives into the urge to press her nose against Stella’s hair and inhales.
Like moonlight and summer days. Bloom smothers a giggle. Only if she’s feeling poetic. Really, Stella smells like strawberry shampoo. The real kind, because Flora and Stella share a bottle, both liking the all-natural stuff. Stella snuggles closer. There’s a single, perfect moment, then Stella goes tense.
“Bloom,” she says. Bloom pulls back to look at Stella’s stunning face. Sharp eyes, a soft nose, shaped lips that are pulled into a frown. Bloom mimics her friend. “I need to tell you about something, and I need you to promise you won’t freak out on me.”
“Huh?” Bloom purses her lips. “Freak out on you? Why would I ever do that?” There is silence in the bedroom.
Stella looks at her, and looks at her, and looks at her-
Bloom reaches out and covers liquid golden eyes. “Okay! Okay! I get it.” It makes Stella’s lips twitch, but only once. They quickly mold back into severity. This is serious, then. Bloom swallows. “I promise that I’ll try not to freak out on you. Is that good enough?”
“I think it’ll have to do,” Stella says, peaking out over Bloom’s palm. The look in her eyes makes Bloom’s heart stop. It’s anguished, and resolved, and full of turmoil. More than serious. “Bloom, I need to tell you about a planet called Dyamond, and the tragedy that befell it eight years ago.”
---
Musa sits on the comfy couch, letting Flora’s slight weight lean against her shoulder. They’re sharing earphones, and Musa plays with the cord dangling between them. It’s Musa’s newest single, and she grins with pride as Flora bobs her head to the beat.
“I like it!” Flora says after the last note plays. Musa, a little more energetic than the rest, squirms in her seat.
“I know it’s a little out there,” she says, “but I was really inspired by…” Maybe her cheeks go a little red. Her face might be a little sad too. During that party, Stormy had taught her a dance, and the music they’d been playing fit.
But it wasn’t perfect.
Musa needed it to be perfect. She’d spent a while making something that would be perfect.
Flora gives her a knowing smirk, but doesn't say anything. Musa could kiss her for that. Leaning over, she presses her lips to Flora's warm cheek, a pleased thrill buzzing through her stomach when Flora coos in response.
With the sun shining in through the big, common room window, and the still morning air cool but not cold, two of the Winx settle together in contentment. Class is even an hour away. Plenty of time to laze their way to the dining hall for breakfast. Musa closes her eyes and enjoys the serenity of the atmosphere-
“Magic Winx!” a cry shouts out from Flora and Bloom's closed door. Underneath the door, in the empty space between wood and floor, there's a flash of light.
“Wait, you said you'd try not to freak out!” Stella's voice yells.
“I failed!” Bloom shrieks. Shattering glass makes the girls on the couch jump. Even Tecna pokes her head out from her and Musa's shared room, bed headed and wide eyed.
“Oh fu- Bloom!” Stella's voice is distressed, but there's no other reply.
The two on the couch share a glance. Techna, always efficient, is already scrambling towards the door to see what’s happened. Musa and Flora follow her example, and peer over Tecna’s shoulders as she flings herself into the room.
What awaits them is a sight. Stella is sitting on the bed, rubbing her forehead as if she has a headache. The fucking window is splintered into dangerous shards. Bloom is nowhere to be seen- No, there she is, a tiny speck on the horizon, getting smaller and smaller with each passing moment.
Stella gives the girls a helpless look. They share her suffering with grimaces.
“She’s about to do something stupid, isn’t she?” Techna correctly concludes. Stella nods anyway.
Musa looks at all her friends, then eyes Stella. “What did you tell her?” she asks, suspiciously.
There’s guilt in Stella’s eyes. “I can’t say yet.”
“What do you mean by that?” Musa stomps closer. “You know how we feel about secrets!”
“I know!” Stella throws her hands into the air. “But I promised Darcy that-”
“Darcy?!” Musa’s voice goes shrill. Stella winces, pulling Bloom’s covers all the way up over her chin. “What do you mean Darcy?! A Trix!? Are you choosing a Trix over-”
“Girls,” Flora interjects, voice worried. “Now is not the time.”
“She’s right,” Techna says, backing her up with a steady, even voice. “Bloom’s headed towards Cloud Tower.”
“Fuck,” Musa says, summing everything up so eloquently it brings a tear to Stella’s eyes. Actually, that looks a lot like guilt. Musa bites her cheek, starting to feel guilty herself. It must have been important if Stella said she couldn’t break her secret.
Never mind. Musa shakes her head, clearing her thoughts. Now isn’t the time to be kicking herself, or others. She points towards the place Bloom left towards. “Well,” Musa says, voice grim in her determination, “let's go get our girl.”
That gets agreement from the entire group. Stella hops off the bed, they all thrust their hands into the air, crossing them.
“Magic Winx!”
As one, four girls light the room up in flashes of bright, powerful magic. No other words are needed. They step over the broken glass, flap their wings, and ascend to the sky towards the brooding fortress of Cloud Tower.
---
The wind is one thousand stinging needles. They prick her skin, but see the anger upon her face, and dare not do more. Bloom has never flown this fast, not for quarrel, not for fun. She’s a streak of blue on a blue sky, almost melting into the background. Only the vibrant red of her hair and the trail of glimmer behind her gives her way.
That, and the miasma of emotion rolling off of her, and the audible buzz of her wings behind her, like the hum of an angry insect.
Mornings of Cloud Tower are slower than mornings in Alfea. Most witches stay up late and wake up later. Only a few of them wander around the largest outer courtyard. No doubt to enjoy the heavy winds that coil around their beloved school, a violent shield.
Bloom pierces through it like a bullet, and she leaves a momentary hole in the wall of clouds. For a brief, amazing moment, sunlight touches the flagstones upon the courtyard. The witches look up towards the source of the oddity and almost yelp with fright. Evil fright.
With a shockwave that would rock a lesser structure, Bloom lands right in the middle of the yard. The snarl on her face is so severe, it hurts.
A witch braver than the rest steps forward with a big sneer. “What are you doing here, fairy-”
“AAAAAH!” Bloom yells at her with so much fury, no words come out. The witch lets out a squeak, turns around, and starts sprinting away. Bloom is left panting heavy breaths, fists clenched and crouched like she’s about to forgo magical etiquette and just start punching people.
Wiser witches decide to give her a wide berth.
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. The witches here have no concept of hell. They get a glimpse of it as Bloom stomps her way up to Cloud Tower’s front entrance.
Only when she’s staring up at the tower’s giant, black door does some of her sense come back to her-
No.
No. Bloom doesn’t give herself time to think. She’ll lose her nerve if she does. She’ll turn back with a tucked tail. She’ll cry. She needs to move forward or this will never end.
Hello, Cloud Tower, Bloom sends out a pulse of magic, desperate, afraid, full of sorrow. Please let me in. I need to talk to the Trix.
Ancient magic falls upon her like a heavy blanket. It wraps around her limbs, runs itself through her hair, leaves her skin feeling cold and damp. Then it pulls away, and the oppressive, night dark doorway opens inwards. The witches on the courtyard collectively drop their jaws as a fairy walks into their school without invitation, unharmed.
Bloom doesn’t stop to marvel at the interior of Cloud Tower, though it is impressive. She marches through the halls, clenching her teeth hard enough they ache. There’s not even time for her to realize she has no clue where she’s going. In front of her, on the side of a hallway, a doorway rattles, and a thread of Cloud Tower’s magic tugs her towards it.
Without hesitation, she grabs the handle and swings the door open.
The Trix dormitory is a cold, dark place. Even after daybreak, shadows clutch abundant to the corners of the room. For some reason, the kitchen table is smashed in two. Bloom is pretty sure she sees a spider the size of her hand skitter across the floor. She doesn’t have time to freak out about that. There’s something so much more important to focus on.
Inside of the dorm, like shades, are all three of the Trix Coven. They stare at her with wide, surprised eyes. A spoonful of cereal hovers between Stormy’s mouth and a bowl. Darcy sits on their couch, midway through turning a page, paused on the action.
A sight for sore eyes, and Bloom has to blink several times at the stinging from them. She doesn’t linger.
Icy is across the room, frozen mid step. Disbelief has her jaw hanging open. She is as beautiful as Bloom remembers her.
Every single fucking emotion Bloom has felt since Icy left her comes out all at once, and Bloom bares her teeth like a rabid dog.
“YOU!” Bloom yells it. She roars it. She practically spews her lungs through her mouth with her vehemence. She steps inside of the dorm and slams the door, shutting the rest of the tower out. “YOU!” Every single one of her steps are heavy as she tramps up to the witch.
Icy grows tenser with every inch of closed distance. Her face cools. She lifts her chin in arrogance, pulling her lips back as if to speak or show off her fangs. Bloom’s vision tinges red. Her heartbeat thunders in her ears. Chest to chest, Bloom stares into Icy’s pale eyes.
She can see her witch gathering her resolve and speaks before Icy can finish.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were from Dyamond!?” Bloom blurts out, throwing aggrieved hands into the air. Icy looks stunned once more. Like the breaking of a dam, it turns to anger. The walls explode into patterns of jagged, crackling frost. Bloom sees her breath mist from her nose.
Icy whips her head towards Darcy and hisses. “You told her?!”
Darcy’s face becomes expressionless. She lowers her head, not in submission, but defiance, yellow eyes calculating. Bloom steps in before they can think about starting.
“That doesn’t matter!” she yells. Icy growls, but her attention is back onto Bloom. A win in Bloom’s book. “Icy, How could you keep that from me!?” Then she shakes her head. That doesn’t matter either. “Why would you keep me having the Dragon Flame in the dark?! Someone died on Domino!”
A flicker of regret. The snap of surprise. Bloom sees it in the way Icy’s pupils shrink into little points. But her witch is prideful. She straightens her back and says with vehemence, “it is not my fault they weren’t strong enough to survive!”
Cold. Her witch is so cold. “Is that what this is about!?” Bloom almost screams it. Her voice cracks half way through, and it doesn’t recover. “Strength?”
Icy’s heart is as frozen as the lands of Dyamond. Whatever feelings she might have had go silent. It is arctic winds and shard like hail that fills the empty space. “Of course it is.”
This entire time, Bloom had been the one tracking, catching. Every movement she made brought her closer to Icy. Now, Icy makes the first step. An inch eaten, so close they almost brush against each other. The witch has superior height. She stands straight, unashamed. Only her eyes lower, better to look down at the fairy that dares storm Cloud Tower.
“If your person died, it’s because they were weak.” Icy says slowly. At the words, tears brim on Bloom’s lower eyelids. A cruel smile twists at Icy’s face. “Strength is everything, Bloom.” Each word bolsters her. A justification that spills out with more and more speed. “It’s what keeps the blood flowing through your veins and your enemies at bay. It’s why I breathe today. It’s why my planet was ripped from my very fingertips!”
Unsaid words ring in the air. Strength is why she’ll rip the Dragon Flame from Bloom’s fingertips too. Staring up at Icy in disbelief, Bloom’s tears finally start to fall.
She makes a reckless decision.
Bloom takes the first step backwards, giving ground. Maybe Icy thinks they’re about to get into a fight. Her knees bend slightly. As if Bloom could ever raise her hands to Icy.
As if she could ever hurt someone she… she…
Bloom turns her palms into cups and touches them to her chest. “Fine!” Bloom snaps, face crumpling even as a glow starts filling this dark room in Cloud Tower. The shadows recede in an instant loss. The frost on the walls melt away to vapor. Orange, yellow, warm like a hearth, unyielding as the flow of time. “If that’s what you think,” Bloom takes the Dragon Flame with both hands. With tears streaming down her face, the fairy of Domino holds out her planet’s lifeblood and offers it freely, “then take it!”
The Trix stare at her in open disbelief.
“What?!” Icy says in complete bewilderment. Even Stormy and Darcy let out little hisses of protest. Bloom just shoves her power, all of it, farther away from herself and towards the witch of Dark Ice.
“Take it! If you want it so bad, have it-”
“Are you insane?!” Icy's face goes red with rage. “That flame is your power! You can't give it away!”
“It's my power. I can do whatever the fuck I want with it!”
“No!” Icy waves her hand, and a sheet of wet snow flies from her palm. The smack it makes against the wall is a heavy thump. “Why in- why would you do that?! You'd be defenseless without it!”
It's so much. It's too much. Bloom squeezes her eyes tight, and tears leak through anyway.
“My planet is dead!” Bloom screams it, despair scratching through every word. “But yours isn’t! Take it! Do what I couldn’t and save Dyamond!”
“I won't!” Icy snarls, stepping closer and getting into her face.
Bloom could laugh. How did this end up reversed, where Bloom is fobbing off the powers Icy so desperately wanted, and Icy refusing to claim her prize. She’s too angry to laugh. With shining, wide eyes, she snaps her teeth right back at her witch. “Why not?!”
Icy speaks so quickly, she must have thought of it far before this conversation even happened. With fury so mighty it shakes Icy’s frame, she roars.
“Because you love magic!”
In the stunned quiet, only the sound of Icy’s heaving breath fills the space. Bloom’s lips part in shock. Water through a sieve, all of the anger she’d been holding onto falls away. The Dragon Flame flickers between them to the tune of her pulse, radiant and sanguine.
It’s true. Bloom loves magic.
It’s flight, blue skies and complete freedom. It’s spells, the ability to change the world with a thought. It’s the steady, reassuring warmth inside of her chest. The wonders she discovers every single day. Magic is a place where she belongs.
And Icy won’t take it from her.
They stare into each other’s eyes. Blue on blue, glacial cold, summer warm. Something changes between them, and Bloom doesn’t want to analyze what. She makes another reckless decision.
Bloom lets her hold on the Flame go, and it naturally falls back into her chest. She surges forward and presses her lips to Icy’s. She feels Icy’s startled inhale, but the response is immediate. Arms wrap around her waist. She wraps her own around Icy’s slight shoulders, hands on neck, pulling her witch closer. Fireworks explode inside Bloom’s chest. She’s pretty sure her cowlick is on fire again.
Icy’s lips pulse in movement, then open to let her tongue slide out against Bloom’s lower lip. It pulls out a surprised moan. Her mouth opens automatically. Bloom goes weak when Icy slips something wet into her.
Immediately, heat pools between her legs. She hadn’t meant for it to go like this, and she can’t bring herself to care. Icy has pulled her close by the waist, flush against her front. Bloom melts, every part of her pliant and soft.
Then someone lets out a long, raunchy wolf whistle, and Bloom remembers they aren’t alone. Warmth of a different sort runs through her veins. Before she can pull back in embarrassment, Icy unwraps one of her arms from her waist and points a finger towards the whistle’s general direction.
A flash of blue. A yelp that turns into a laugh. Stormy scrambles out from behind the Trix’s evil couch with a smirk. “You missed, fuckface.”
Icy lessens the intensity of her kiss, but doesn’t end it. Gently, softly, Icy continues to-
“Or should I call you suckface,” Stormy says, laughing harder. Icy finally has enough, pulling her face away and snapping her attention towards the youngest coven sister. Bloom is left in vertigo, clinging to Icy so she doesn’t just fall onto the floor. Her knees are jelly.
“Shut up!” Icy snarls, pointing another finger glowing with cold magic. “I’m busy here!” Stormy throws out a hand and shatters Icy’s icicle with a bolt of lightning.
“You’re the one that’s macking out in public. That’s fair game for ribbing. Right, Darcy?”
Darcy nods her head. There’s a pleased tilt to her lips. For once, even her shoulders aren’t tense, as if she can finally relax. “Stormy’s right on this one, suckface.” She unfolds a hand. Stormy slaps a high five into it. Bloom starts the recovery process and tries putting weight onto her feet.
“Fuck you both,” Icy says, pulling Bloom closer. Bloom gives up trying to recover, quivering like a lamb and molding against her witch. “Some support would be nice. Or like, leaving? Don’t you have class?! Go to class.”
“You have class too,” Darcy points out. This time, Stormy’s the one nodding, loyally backing up the middle sister.
Blue eyes roll. Icy turns back to Bloom, sees a wide, goofy grin on the fairy’s face, and softens. “I’m skipping today.”
“We shouldn’t do that,” Bloom says with a giggle. Soda pop bubbles and old television static. A delightful thrill runs up Bloom’s entire spine. “I’ve got class too.” Icy’s lips purse in disappointment. Bloom finds her strength and stands on her tiptoes.
Lips press against Icy’s, soft as petals.
“Damn, girl!” Stormy says, amused. “Just getting right to it.” Icy pulls back at the words, ears folded down in bright red fluster. How cute. Bloom turns and sticks her tongue out at Stormy.
“You’re just jealous that Icy has someone to kiss.”
Stormy bristles so hard, lightning shoots out of her hair. “Fuck you! No I’m not!” Bloom just slides her eyes to Darcy, who lets out a sigh at being reduced to this.
“She is,” Darcy says, still confirming Bloom’s suspicions. Stella was telling the truth then. Bloom’s grown on her like mold. “She’s so jealous. It’s embarrassing.”
“Darcy!” Stormy turns to her, utterly betrayed. She’s likely never going to display coven loyalty ever again. Darcy just steps away from her and the errant lightning bolt that smashes into the floor where she’d been standing. “Not cool.”
“I’m just answering Bloom’s question,” Darcy says, as innocently as a witch can (not very). “If telling the truth is so bad, that’s on you, not me.” Stormy looks like she’s about to have a conniption.
Beside her ear, Icy lets out a tired sigh. She looks at Bloom, and Bloom looks at her. “You see what I must deal with?” Icy says as the sound of bickering starts up.
It must be the earlier kiss. It could be the happiness from reuniting. Even, maybe, the influence the Trix have been having on her. Whatever it is, Bloom doesn’t bother restraining the bright laughter that leaves her mouth.
Icy’s lips twitch, even if it’s at her expense. Bloom leans her forehead against Icy’s shoulder, giggling happily, and finally feels like she can grasp for peace.
“Icy,” Bloom mumbles, “can we be okay, please?”
A sharp chin comes to rest atop her head. She feels Icy’s chest expand as she inhales a deep, slow breath.
“Yes,” she says, releasing every coil of tension inside of Bloom at once. “Yes, of course.”