Chapter Text
Waking up was... different.
He first noticed that his friend's body was lighter. Raising his head covered by some absurd disguise, it fit snugly upon his head. His field of vision was lower, much lower, incredibly so that he saw the temporarily piloted body of the soldier's legs first, and not their head.
Teleporting away, oh.
Oh this was...
Was he cold?
One step, and he nearly slipped on the pressed snow beneath his feet. He reached to remove his mask but hesitated- no. No that would be wrong! This was his friend's choice, how his dear friend and hunter fought!
Nearly stumbling as the bottom of the mask hit his chest... which was exposed? How on....
Ok he had to take the mask off.
Looking down, he saw a lot of exposed skin, and my how his loins were exposed for show! Was he embarrassed? This wasn't his body and yet- his face felt so hot, but it left the remainder of his form freezing cold.
Placing the mask back on, he took a steady step, and nearly fell into a full split as the bottom of the thigh-high heels sliiiiped in the snow.
With one of the many weapons he knew his friend wielded, he hastily took forth one with a staff to hold onto and struggled to not fall. One arm was out for balance, the other in a cold, death grip and wobbling as ilm by ilm he tapped his forward foot back until he could stand upright and not close to hitting the ground backward.
Easy.
Easy.
There were no witnesses in the wilderness he was surrounded by, at worst, a stray sprite that wandered its mindless way back in the direction of the frozen lake.
Breathing deep, he attempted another, flat-footed step, and upon not slipping, he eyed the weapon up close. The appearance was... something.
Were those playing cards as decorations? Tapping one, it did seem as hard as steel. How was he to even fight with this thing?
Shuddering, he held the thing up and laughed, half freezing, half reveling in excitement.
What a magnificent experience!
Though he still had no clue as to how to wield the thing.
Surely he could find a sword or familiar blade. But... how?
Barely ten steps from his original position he stopped again and realized he had absolutely no idea how the other owned such an arsenal of tools as he wore barely enough scraps of clothing to bandage a paper cut.
No. He could not doubt his dearest friend! How did they not die of exposure? Was it aether? Always moving? Right he would run. Even his own body could stave off the freezing air if he kept moving.
Speeding along- oh right he was in heels.
Bent forward this time, Zenos wobbled with his borrowed body's knees almost slamming into each other using the staff as a crutch to not go tumbling into the snow.
No. No walking it was.
Even if the harsh wind from the mountains practically blew right through him and made his arms wobble near uncontrollably.
Beneath the mask, he stared through vision obscuring holes at the sky, biting his friend's lip. Ah, what a magnificent warrior they were!