Snow: I am a slave to my convictions, and I do not seek to survive what is to be served on my plate.
Ice: Are you that desperate for a pile of dirt on top of you?
Snow: I am not wishing for magic but peace.
Ice: How so?
Snow: I liked my view, but they saw to it that it appear ugly.
Ice: That is one way to look at it.
Snow: Which is the other way?
Ice: The way you are looking at it.
Snow: You have some mouth on you. How dare you?
Ice: I dare to..
Snow: Talking to you is pointless.
Ice: Say less... I was only advocating for reality
Snow: And what's that?
Ice: That it is cold where they gather. And you do not have to drink from the chalice they serve you with.

© Ommie