Augusnippets Day 9 - Tumblr Posts

Augusnippets Day 9: Hypothermia

Fandom: The Dragon Prince

Note: This takes place during season 6

Summary: What is Callum had fallen into the frozen sea on Rayla and his way to the Starscraper?

    "Ice water is cold." Was the first Callum said when Rayla pulled him out from under the ice. They must have found a weak spot in the frozen sea or maybe it was just the mage's luck.

     "Of course it is you dummy." Rayla pulled Callum forwards, trying to get him further from the hole in the ice. He was still coughing as he tried to act like everything was fine. 

    The wind was cold against the teens skin. Even with his clothing, the wind chill clung to his bones.

    "Are you going to be okay?"

    "I'm going to have to be." It was unfortunate but true. There was no Callum could go. They had caught fire to the frozen ship. There was no point in going home, it would just make their trip worthless. So they had to go to the Starscraper.

    The wind bit at his fingers until they started to become numb. Callum shivered with every step. He refused to tell Rayla; she'd worry too much. The elf would try to help him; which as much as Callum wouldn't have minded, he didn't want her to get hurt.

As they walked, the prince started to feel more and more tired. His breathing quickened. "Can we" Callum shivered, "take a break?"

Rayla walked over to him. She brought her hand up to cuff his face. "Callum you're freezing."

"Nah, you know what that feels like more than I do." Then he leaned into Rayla. "You're really warm." Callum whispered.

"Come here." The elf picked him up. "I'll carry you the rest of the way."

"You don't have to." The human mumbled.

Shaking her head, Rayla pulled Callum closer to him. Hopefully they would arrive at The Starscraper soon.

@augusnippets day 9

Overheating/ Hypothermia/ Dehydration

Captivity, escape attempt, cold whump, recapture

°

Whumper glared around the snowy landscape, pulling his jacket tighter to his skin. It was absolutely freezing out here. Why had Whumpee decided to run off now? The stupid thing was going to freeze to death, for God's sake!

"Whumpee," he shouted irritably, keeping an eye out for his captive. "Where the hell did they run off to?

Then he saw it— a set of footprints in the snow. It seemed that Whumpee had taken a pair of shoes, at least.

Whumper trekked through the snow, frustration pushing him forward. Eventually, he spotted a small shape huddled against a large rock. Whumpee.

"You! What do you think you're doing, Whumpee?" Whumper snapped, storming over.

Immediately upon spotting him, Whumpee jumped up and sprinted away, their movements slower and clumsier than usual. Whumper had no idea how long they had been out here.

"Whumpee, come on. You don't want to die out here, do you?"

Whumpee backed into a flat area of snow with no trees or other features. "I'd rather try to survive out here than live with you!" Whumpee said fiercely, eyes full of rage.

"Whumpee, you're standing on a—"

A large groan sounded in the air, followed by several cracks.

"—lake."

The ice caved under the weight, and Whumpee plummeted into the cold water.

Whumper came to the frozen lake's edge, looking down at the hole Whumpee had fallen through. They were thrashing, slowly sinking and losing their fight against the water's pull.

Whumper reached in, pulling them out and onto the snowy bank. "Are you about done?"

Whumpee was still coughing, spitting the water out onto the ground. Whumper chuckled at the pathetic display.

"Well, I suppose I'll leave it up to you whether you want to come back..." Whumper shrugged, smirking at the captive.

"Please! Take me b- back, I'm so cold—" Whumpee pleaded, shivering. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, take me back..."

Whumper chuckled, scooping Whumpee up in his arms. Whumpee was freezing cold, his eyes hazy and tired.

"Now you know better, don't you? No more running off, dear." Whumper began carrying Whumpee back, feeling the smaller human clinging to his body.

"Y- yes sir, I know n-now..."

"Good."

Hare and Kit

Augusnippets day 9: hypothermia | overheating | dehydration

Word count: 496

Trigger warnings: implied/referenced death, description of corpses, implied/referenced child death

——————(0)——————

“You,” Archaios says, “are not just shivering from pain, are you.”

The child, predictably, shivers in response.

“Fuck,” Archaios says, and picks up speed. “Look, in my defense, you were getting shredded from the inside-out by curse energy, I had other things on my mind! Like keeping you un-shredded! I forgot that humans are—squishy! Don’t like being cold! Fuck!”

Because he’s reveled in blizzards before, only to come across blanched, stiff corpses, squirreled in little snow-dens that they thought would save them. He’s tried to save ones that were still breathing by feeding on their cold, hoping that drawing it away would help keep them warm. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn’t.

“I hate doing that on children, you know?” he murmurs into the child’s forehead. “It’s filthy, feeding from the young. And you shouldn’t have to be so close to death, anyways. You should—”

Be with your parents, laughing and loved, free of curse marks, not small and alone. Be warm.

Too many things this child should have instead of some inhuman hermit that came upon them by happenstance; it all crowds Archaios’ throat and clogs there.

His next step echoes, warps; his own wards welcome him as he slows his run into the cave to a purposeful stride. He has pelts stored away, despite his best efforts to foist everything he hunts on humans that actually need it. Humans always bundle themselves up in the cold, surely those will help.

He has two pelts … well, one is a cloak. He wraps that first around the child, then the second, until only the child’s pale face and baby wisps of their white hair show. Then—and this is the hard part—he sits back until only a comforting hand is touching the swaddled child.

“Fenn always told me my skin was icy,” he tells them. “I don’t think holding you will help, no matter how it’ll make me feel better. But ….”

He’s bundled up the child, stopped touching them with his cold hands. Is there anything else? How will he know this is helping? How soon? He’s always known his knowledge on humans is essentially a dark, unknown chasm, but never has it yawned deeper, faced with a child he must save.

“Maybe,” he starts, then looks at the black marks crawling up the child’s cheeks, and stops. Bringing this child to humans, to anyone that knows better, will only get them killed.

Then a realization clicks, followed by his heart dropping.

“Fire,” Archaios says. “You need fire. Except I … I don’t know how to light one.”

He’s never really needed it—he needs cold, not heat. And he’s never committed to saving a cold victim like this child, so he’s never thought of it before.

Wait, no. He has.

He sighs and heaves himself up. “I hope Tiana forgives me,” he mutters. “And you. For using a practice meant to invite ambient magic to light funeral pyres for you.”

He goes to find sticks.