* WINTER SPIRIT.

                             the snowball hits her in the back, soaking through her dress to the skin below ; not that she minds the COLD, but the dress is new.  ❛  did you just – throw a SNOWBALL at me ?  ❜ he more or less confirms her words, and she feels a spark of well hidden MISCHIEF within her ; she rolls her eyes, conceals it and carries on her way ; all the while a small, compact sphere of snow being created in the palms of her hand, hidden from his view.  ❛  you know i could have you ARRESTED, right ?  ❜ ammunition is complete, but she keeps talking, straight laced, sarcastic, delicate fingers hold the weapon.  ❛ i’m sure throwing snowballs at the queen is against the law SOMEWHERE -  ❜ the snowball is hurled at him ; she is sure it will find it’s mark, and she grins in satisfaction.

     SNOWFLAKES PEPPER THE PALMS of his hands not unlike glitter, more or less incriminating him, though in their defense his features give him away to begin with.  lazy grin tugs at a corner of his lips, hues alight with impishness.  dark brows raise as shoulders shrug, his hands coming up in a what can you do ? gesture.  ❛  hey, i just thought you needed to DE-STRESS      it’s part of my solemn duty as guardian of fun, y’know ??  ❜  which is kind of a lie, one might argue, seeing as elsa hasn’t been a child for some time, but that’s all SEMANTICS.  either way, her role as queen has been consuming her as of late, and jack has taken it upon himself to help the only way he knows how.  which may or may not entail throwing a snowball at her.  as he said: semantics.

     it’s supposed to be spring in paris.  EMPHASIS on the supposed.  snowflakes drift down from the skies at an alarming rate, and the boy watches their descent in satisfaction, twirling the staff once ( with a dexterity that screams of practice ) before it comes to rest along the curve of his shoulder.  gaze flits to the girl atop the roof of her house, and lips curl into a grin.  ❛  yeah, it’s definitely gonna be a SNOW DAY today.        you’re welcome.  ❜

DARKNESS. that’s the first thing i remember. it was dark, it was cold, and i was scared. but then... then i saw the moon. it was so big, and it was so bright. it seemed to chase the darkness away.

     ❛  ALRIGHT, SO, HEAR ME OUT HERE.  ❜  jack has told himself, time after time, that it’s dangerous, hoping.  it’s dangerous to get your hopes up, to put your eggs in one basket, because it only makes one susceptible to the darkness that cloaks their thoughts when that desire is dashed.  it’s immensely difficult to REBUILD YOUR FAITH after you’re met with another dead end.  perhaps it would be better to quell the budding emotion in the cavity of his chest, but he wouldn’t be JACK FROST if he did.  the boy rides a relentless cycle of hope and dejection, and he will see it through, no matter the damning consequences.  ❛  i kind of need a huge favour from you.  i - i know you don’t really know me, but... you’re a SUPER HERO.  you have to help.  please.  ❜

     ❛  COME ON, it’s not that hard.  ❜  forgive him if he appears too flippant about the topic at hand, it’s just that the last time the sprite had trouble ice skating was three hundred years ago, and even then he had picked up the pastime with surprising agility ( as if he had done it before      and he had, in another life ).  yet even with his centuries of practice, he lacks GRACE; naked feet glide over the frozen water with a flourish that looks as if he will fall flat on his face at any moment.  the grin aimed at the redhead, however, is wide and encouraging.  ❛  you’ll get the hang of it with enough practice.  and falling down is half the fun !  ❜