Elsa has battled with her powers, with herself, for so long that, even now, there are days when she feels it would be simpler not to have them at all. That everyone would be safer that way.

There is something worse than not having her abilities, though, and that's someone else having them. The winter cold in Darrow has been punctuated by cold snaps she suspects have to do with the fact that ice powers are being used by those who don't know how to control them. She's worked with Jessica, but it seems as if she's not the only one.

With her dark hair tied back in a braid, Elsa paces in the sand, waiting for Marcus to arrive. She had her powers all her life. She can't imagine how poorly she would have handled getting them out of nowhere. At least Jessica has seen her use them before. This poor man must have no idea what the city's gotten him into.

At the sound of footsteps, she looks up, gaze dropping briefly to the gloves he wears. It's cold out, so it's no surprise, and still she shudders slightly, remembering those rows of gloves in her trunk. "Marcus? I'm Elsa."