//edgy ice piko

He was surely more than a prince of the winter--he must have been the winter itself.

His disdainful two-toned gaze was the Northern Lights glaring down at others with chilly indifference. His hair was sleek and shiny, fresh soft snowfall that had never been dirtied. His eyelashes were ethereal, mascaras of frost adorning them and feathering against his pointy cheekbones when he closed his eyes. His skin, which should've cracked from the cold, instead stayed living, breathing porcelain that seemed so soft, so delicate, even the lightest touch could make deep purple bruises bloom like diseases. His wrists and sides were shattered and pieced back together with sapphire veins of glue.

His kisses were spearmint--bright and cold and sharp, tearing holes in the rosy hazes his lovers gazed upon him through. His chapped lips stung and intermingled breaths filled the quiet air with steam like dragons' plumes of fire. He left lovers dazed and entranced with the taste in their mouths as every breath afterwards sent ice shards shooting down their throats.

His hands--held by another, clutching a stemmed crystal glass, balled into fists before going limp at his sides, trailing down his lovers' sides, gripping an empty plate with white knuckles--they were always absolutely gelid, no warmer than his personality or his world. He was used to feeling people shiver, to seeing their eyes widen in surprise when they felt nothing but cold everywhere. He couldn't miss warmth if he'd never felt it to start with, though.

He grew up alone, reigning over his realm with a chilly grip, pointing thin fingers and issuing sharp orders. If he ever knew warmth, he would melt. He kept everyone at an arm's length, shoving back anyone that slipped under his armor blades with sharpened blades of crystal and remorse.