A Scripta

*thunk*

Silence.

Breathe.

He had forgotten many of the Kheldian methods of calming down, so he now relied on human methods. He sat in a crossed-leg position, focused on a spot about a foot in front of him, and breathed.

Focus.

Nothing. No trace of him. He sat for four hours, floating in the calm serenity of the sky, building the walls, sealing them up. He couldn't crush Nate, although the events last night had sorely tempted him...

They had headed into a Circle of Thorn hide-out, and instead of seeing Thornies, they ran into Malta. He felt himself losing consciousness a couple of times, almost blacking out.

He knew he could take Frost's fire. He had done such a thing before with other humans - take their sickness within himself and either send it out or hold it and convert it to something else within. He always had the cooperation of his host in order to do that. Nate agreed in this.

So when after a battle, when Frost was weakened, he had Frosty put his hand on his and opened himself up wide to him. The fire rushed up, into him - into his blood. The pain...heat from within...he felt it come through him - and it kept coming. He couldn't hold it, so let it out in a burst of flame.

And it still kept coming.

Frosty broke the connection, seeing Jack in pain, but this was what Nathan had wanted all along. Jack was weakened, in pain, feeling like his blood had been boiled and injected back in, now thick and fiery like lava. He saw Frosty jump over the side of the rock and lost consciousness again.