A little bit more frost than before seemed to creep along the branches of the nearby trees as Celia spoke. The idea of anyone, of her father hurting her in order to teach her control left Elsa feeling ill, wanting to reach for her friend and pull her close and hold her and tell her she was sorry, so sorry, that she had been treated that way.

The frost forming on the branches was exactly the reason she didn't do so.

"There must be," she agreed, with the slightest of nods. "Something that works without being..."

Cruel? Celia hardly needed Elsa to point that out, Elsa was sure.

"... Without being that," she finished, a bit lamely. "What... would you like me to do first?"