A Wild Woman

lordofslaughterxbanished-deacti

+demigodxmarksman

He smiled at the woman - he could feel power of some sort coming off of her. ”I’m technically Egyptian and Norse. I was just wandering, really, but it’s a pleasure. I am Maahes Lokison.”

jokul---frosti-deactivated20130

She brought her hands forward, clasping her fingers together and dippin her head in respect, "The son of the Trickster God himself, hm..? It's an honor, Maahes." Not a drop of sarcasm laced her words. Of course she was aware of the lore -- of who Loki was, all of the Gods. Sometimes it was amusing to her, the ways humans explained the every day things that happened around them. Olive hues flickered from his eyes to his cigarette for a brief moment. She could only hope he'd dispose of it properly when he was done. Forest fires were not one of her favored things, after all. Slowly, she lifted a hand and pressed it gently to her chest, just under the base of her neck, "You may call me Mother Nature."

#demigodxmarksman

+demigodxmarksman

"And here I thought in all my years, that the Egyptians were out of my reach." A small smile tugged at her lips, holding herself with a built-in elegance, "What brings you to me, then..?"

#demigodxmarksman

“Shall I call you Mama?” Jokul smirked, leaning against his staff, ignoring the malicious intent behind her greeting. “Well, it’s not like I pictured you to be all exciting and fun-loving so I guess I can’t I expected anything more from you.”

#jokulfrosti #[ Oooh he's gonna be. ]

A scowl twinged at her lips with his words, the wind whipping about her as if it reeled in indignance and outrage at his presence, "My duty is to protect a very delicate balance in this world, and you have made a game of disrupting it. My patience only goes so far, Jack Frost." She held her head high, with pry, but it is clear from her tone and the degree of her breaths that there is a true reason that Mother Nture is often a feared force.

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in-eternal-night said:

ooc: YES.

o_o

I was not expecting so much enthusiASM

Okay yes plottage good

#ineternalnight #more like internal screaming #ooc

Would any Pitch/Kozmotis rpers like to plot with me? Please? ;c;

#ooc #Pitch Black #Kozmotis Pitchiner

January 16

“I didn’t say that,” he hissed indignantly. He wasn’t that naive. He understood the difference between preserving life and things like overpopulation. He’d been to struggling communities and cultures, countries and cities that were overrun and not getting what they needed. He’d seen people die in the worst possible conditions, and while he wished they had lived, sometimes he wished they had passed in a better way. No one should starve. No one should be so sick they cannot breathe or eat or sleep. Death was sometimes the only peace.

Jack shifted, dropping one leg to lay parallel to the cold ground, arms around the one remaining upright. “Who said I’d stopped?” he muttered grudgingly, the pit of his stomach sinking lower. “I’m not just grieving other people, you know. I died today,” he went on quietly, traces of sorrow in his tone. “And then I forgot. I forgot everything. I forgot who I was, my family, how it even happened—and then I was alone. For centuries. You think I can just move past that?”

Mother Nature seemed to hesitate for a fraction of a moment, her words carefully chosen, "While I've never seen a man, woman, or child that.. 'believed' in me, I had always found easy companionship in the animals I watch over. Their company is all I ever truly need -- but.. Had I known that you were.. alone.. I could have done something, to ease the passing of the years. Whenever I had seen you, you were smiling. You truly enjoyed your time with the young ones, or at least seemed to.. Perhaps... you were simply good at putting on a show."

There's disappointment that hinges in her tone. Not in him, but rather herself. If she had seen just how lonely he was... This was why humans sometimes confused her. Animals had no ulterior motives, they had no reason to hide their thoughts, their emotions. But people had their pride, and their stubborn resolve. They had things to hide, things that made them who they truly were.. And Jack had hidden himself wonderfully from the world. She still held herself regally, but there was a sort of vulnerability in that moment. Her free hand wrapped around her stomach in an almost-embrace.

"I'm sorry, Jack."

January 16

He grimaced a moment, but the image of wolves ripping into flesh calmed him. He immediately hated himself for it. Jack forced his eyes to follow the woman’s hand, and his brow furrowed as the little flower blossomed before his eyes, freed of his thoughtless frost. Spring, for a fleeting moment. Too early. It would die again, come morning, even if Jack left it alone. Jack scowled as Mother Nature moved to touch the headstone. It almost felt… violating. That was his—and his sister’s.

Scoffing, he brought his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs and shaking his head with disbelief. “Sometimes?” he echoed bitterly. “I’ve never mourned a death that was easy to overcome, Mother,” he hissed. He avoided her eye, glaring at the moss on the tombstones before him. “Don’t talk to me about beginnings. It doesn’t matter what I do. Things don’t always have to die, but they always fucking do.” Including himself. His sister. Bleak.

"You would rather a world where everyone lived forever? That the laws of death could not apply? Jack, you know as well as I do the consequences of that. Overpopulation, worsening world hunger, a decline in the quality of life itself as well as the population of game animals. If things did not die, there would not be a stable tomorrow for those who are living." Her voice had risen just the slightest bit, mostly for inflection, but as soon as her words had run dry she dropped her shoulders slightly, "Death is not always deserved or expected, but that does not change the fact it is a necessary part of life.

"It is unfortunate and it leaves wounds that sometimes never heal -- but to live and live well, the only option is to let them go. Move forward, as slow as you wish to, but never force yourself to a stop." Grieving could not be rushed. It could last days, or even years. But hope for life -- the light at the end of the tunnel -- had to be constant, to put them back onto their feet again. The small daisy slowly shrunk back, Nature's magic waning and allowing it to revert to its former state, still free of frost. It would bloom on its own, in time.

jokul---frosti-deactivated20130

notalwaysbenevolent started following you

ask-theguardianoffun-jackfrost started following you

“Mother Nature and a doppelganger?” he cocked his head, though his face showed little interest. “Well, you certainly don’t meet Mother Nature every day, so I suppose this is special.”

#jokulfrosti #[ you gone done it now ]

"Frost." Her tone was firm and her countenance serious, olive hues relaxed, and yet clouded with a defensive malice. She didn't take kindly to those who fancied 'taking over' her seasons.

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January 16

If Jack was disappointed that she’d stopped her soothing motion, he made no sign of it. Her words were muffled in his ears for a long moment, but soon enough he’d forced his attention on what she was telling him. So poetic. So… regal. She acted like royalty in her mannerisms, her speech, but he didn’t sense the same arrogance that accompanied the monarchs he’d seen before. She was no Marie Antoinette. He felt sick.

It stung deeply for him to hear about his sister, her grieving for him. He’d watched her grow old, marry, have children—and he simply never knew who he was watching. She was never as enthusiastic as the other children, when he thought back. Not in winter. Not in January. “So you—mourning summons you?” he asked with as much skepticism as he could muster. But he blinked. “…Necessary death? Are you trying to tell me—?” he began, cutting off. He didn’t want to think about it.

Her countenance softened greatly, hand moving to give his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Without death, life can not start anew. If a herd of deer grows too large, the plains and forest that feeds them will die. So, the wolves cull their numbers. This earth is that of give and take." She scooted forward slightly, and brushed her free fingers lightly over a small bud that had struggled past the light layer of frost. Her touch breathed new life and from the sprout bloomed a small daisy, so plain, yet fragile. Yet, beautiful. "It is a balance." She leaned forward slightly, to press her palm to the cold stone, feeling letters that had faded with time.

"Mourning is not what summons me, not truly.. Just.. Sometimes, a death is a hard thing for the living to overcome. The death of one ant is not mourned as one dead man would be -- even a tigress who loses her cubs can fall into a depression. I appear to help those who are too focused on what they've lost to see what their future can hold. For even in the darkest of places, there is still slivers of hope. There is still life." She pulled back her hand, leaning back on her heels before turning to look at the other. "You of all beings should know that death is not an end, but a beginning." Her brow creased with gentle concern, dark locks sweeping over her shoulder.

January 16

There was something disarming about her smile, even if he had to question why it seemed so… knowing. Like she understood. He didn’t even know who she was—or if she knew him—and she could smile in a way that made it difficult to want to deck her across the jaw. Maybe he’d be more tempted later, when he wasn’t feeling sorrow and loneliness seep into his bones.

Something clicked in his head, and Jack looked to her slowly. “I’ve heard of you,” he began carefully, looking her up and down. “…What are you doing here?” Leave me alone, he wanted to add, but somehow couldn’t do it. “You—you said something before. What was it?” he went on, seemingly impatient.

A small sigh drifted through her nose, and she lowered her shoulders slightly, elegant, regal demeanor softening ever so slightly. She turned pale green orbs to the tombstones before them and drew a slow breath. This would require some.. explanation. Her hand stilled at the center of his back, her words falling freely, but slowly, not wanting him to miss something, "I am.. connected to all that breathes on this earth. Every burrowing rat and growing fern. Every golden eagle, every man.. And.. every spirit, so long as they're tethered to this earth. I deal in life, and in necessary death. And you.. you are a herald of winter. A necessary thing throughout this world. I sensed despair, so.. here I am."

At the bitter impatience in his tone, a small, disarming chuckle breathed past her lips, "I said that she used to come here every day." Her smile dampened slightly, by the sorrow of the memory, still fresh in her mind. She'd come every day and keep the cut flowers as fresh as the day Emma had left them on her brother's grave. Her gaze wandered to the headstone beside his own, partially covered in a cloak that had been eaten slightly by age. "Her mourning was.. heavy. Too much for me to simply ignore." She turned back to Jack, a small smile creasing the corners of her eyes, "Much like yours."

January 16

Startled, Jack whipped around, aiming his staff immediately at the source of the voice, face screwed up in inexplicable turmoil. He didn’t recognize the woman, and was somewhat offended that she’d come and interrupted his mourning. A warmth exuded from her very presence, and even Jack felt his grayed skin almost defrost for a moment. He hadn’t even noticed that he’d started to cover himself in ice, like some bizarre defense mechanism. His breath was heavy as he stared silently; he bared his teeth and growled like a wounded dog at her approach.

Her touch frightened him—she was warm, almost too warm for him, but instead of shoving her away as every instinct begged him to, he fell flat on his ass and dropped his staff with trembling hands. Jack didn’t know what to do with himself. He stared at grey palms and blinked back more tears defiantly.

“…Who are you?” he managed in a rough voice.

The Mother barely even batted an eyelash at the brandishing of his weapon. Fear could be smelled -- and she held no fear of him in her gnarled heart. Her eyes wandered to the thin layer of ice that'd latched itself to him, and concern waxed over her features. Her hand loosened from his shoulder, and she rubbed her palm along his back soothingly, just as his rump collided with the cold, hard ground. She watched impassively as his precious staff clattered from his shaking fingers. And all she could do, was offer a small smile of reassurance.

At his question, her smile reached her eyes, still idly rubbing his back, settling down onto the earth, herself. "My name.. is Mother Nature." Her voice is soft, almost endearing in a way, "Yours, is Jack Frost." And something was very, very wrong with him. For as long as she could recall, his face was nearly always adorned with a smile. He cared so deeply for those around him. Something behind olive eyes shimmered, subconsciously reflecting her concern. She'd never known him to snarl at an apparent stranger.

January 16

Loss is heavy.

It weighs on your back and your shoulders, and wastes no time in dragging you to the earth, gripping like a vice around your heart and your soul. Jack isn’t sure he’s got much of a soul at the moment, but there’s a clenching in his chest that seems deeper than just his heart.

Today is an anniversary, and now he knows. He wants to find the gravesite, to see if his cloak still rested on the headstone next to his, but he fears it will be gone. He wants to see her name etched in stone again, but he fears the wash of time has wiped it in the last few months, as if the last few centuries would not have counted.

He wants to go to his best friend, but he too, is gone.

Loss is heavy.

Jack isn’t certain he can take its weight as he finally dares to stand before his grave. In all this time, he hadn’t known. Now that he did, he almost resented himself for showing up at all.

He wonders if he should mark a grave for Bleak, and finds himself on his knees in seconds.

Loss is heavy.

His tears are warm.

"...She came here every day, you know."

Mother Nature appeared without the slightest grain of grandeur, her arrival signaled by a small, fleeting breeze. Bare feet crunched through the evening frost, shoulders swept with elegance, dark locks cascading to the small of her back. She doesn't crowd him, not at first. She crossed her arms under her chest, wrapping herself in a warm embrace as she took the final steps, coming to a stop beside him. She knew two of his.. others were gone, now, but seemed completely unaware of how.. attached they'd been.

But, she also knew what today was. Mother Nature crouched beside him, and slid and arm across the back of his shoulders, head lowered in a respectful manner. Her fingers tensed slightly, and she gave him a gentle squeeze, not wanting to pry too deeply. He was still Jack. Still the winter spirit that sometimes gave her headaches when it came to the weeks between winter and spring, or at the very end of autumn. Something had struck him to his core, and she was not about to stand idly by and allow him to be left so completely alone.