Luna grubted under the surge of internal pressure, it was beginning to feel as if her insides had multiplied in weight. Everything wanting to squeeze into itself yet at the same time being unable to move an inch with the pressure weighing down on her.
All the while the slight chill of the depths atttempted to worm its way deep into her body, it tried to slow her thoughts, freeze her blood and dim her reactions.
Saddly for the energy surging within Luna, she was one with cold, she was in fact above meet cold.
As a being of the Arctic the cold was a simple fact of her existence, something to be wielded and utilised by her, not something that could ever truly harm her.
No, the cold was hers to control, hers to wield as she willed.
So she wielded the cold trying to worm its way into her, infusing the chil with the very depths of her arctic speciality. The pressure of the depths increased in intensity, yet the frigid chill rose in might at a much greater rate.
