Let me get one thing straight from the beginning: I despise cold. Not dislike, not feel uncomfortable in, despise. As in, I would happily live inside a lit fireplace if I wasn’t made mostly of carbon and water. That being said, I also happen to like ice. Not so much having to walk in it, but observing it? Very much so. I don’t have much of an eye for sculpturing (especially of the abstract persuasion) but I can certainly enjoy the icy shapes that follow a frosty night or a good snowfall. The shades of white and blue, the play of light as it passes through the thinner parts, the shapes it contorts to when it starts melting. People think that ice is static. Not to me, it’s not. Ice is ever moving and changing, its colour, its texture, its shape, its very state are subjects to time and heat and the wind that move around it. You know that scene in Frozen, when Elsa is building her castle and every other shot shows the ice being a different colour? That pretty much sums up how I see ice. While I love fire and all things over 20 degrees Celsius, I also can appreciate ice for what it symbolises: being quiet, playing the long game, subtle strategic moves instead of flashy declarations (conversely these are also the characteristics I prefer in superhero movie characters. Make of that what you will).
What does my treatise on ice have to do with the festive season? Well, if you’ve been in Norwich lately, you’ll know that the weather has been rather icy and anyway, I watched Rise of the Guardians a few days back. It’s stuck in my head and it was either this post or a full-blown, multi-chap fanfic to get it out of my system. Due to time constraints you’re stuck with this.
Meanwhile, thousands of miles away… 