You're wrong, but sweet

"I used to get mad in the winter when I was a little kid," he mentioned with a step closer to offer her a hand to steady herself, "we didn't live in a Hollow and in Germany the snow gets very deep. So deep sometimes one of my dads had to carry me just so it wouldn't be over my head. I got very upset that I was short." He chuckled before adding, "still pretty short honestly but a lot better practiced with the snow."

Her intentions struck a spot, Zero wasn't certain why, but they did.

"Hmn, that's not too difficult. Most people think all of this is pretty; the snow, the clear air." But it really all was a matter of perspective. "The quiet is pretty; it's sleepy and unhurried; reminds you that it's okay to hide away from the cold with the people you want to hide away with."

But he was giving her his perspective and she was searching for her own.

"I think that word means something different to everyone though, so maybe you'll find it around here somewhere. And you probably won't find it in the same place as I do."

Zero shrugged. "But I will say I like the view from this perspective. It doesn't make you feel quite so small in such a big world."

So she took it and used it to steady herself.

"Oh seasons, I couldn't even imagine. What are people to do when the snow gets to be that much?" She asked with a sort of horrified curiosity. It was the kind of thing she never had to think about. It didn't matter if they got meters or centimeters of snow--any fairy could fly right over it once it was settled. It was flying through it that was the problem. She didn't even realize it might be the opposite for humans.

She listened to all he had to say. He was truly wise in a way that she wasn't used to. Not that others weren't wise, it was just most of her conversations were always so practical. What needed to happen, what was needed, when it was needed--logistics and details. This kind of philosophy was rare. But it was sharp and fresh, much like the chill around them.

"It certainly has been different," she agreed. "I always thought I liked being smaller. This form is so clunky and difficult to maneuver." This was certainly being proven today. "But to see it all from these eyes and this height...it's been illuminating. If not exhausting."

There is one yearning, though, that sometimes rang so strongly that Iris had a hard time focusing when it chimed near to her.

It wasn't as if Iris was trying to ignore that calling, it was simply that she feared there was nothing she could do. It took a town disaster for her to finally banish her selfish fears and appear to Princess Atta Flutterwing.

The Princess had been sitting in the park, and Iris had chosen to walk towards the princess rather than fly or appear. It seemed more kind. It almost felt human.

"Princess," Iris says, softly, like a mother almost, "do you mind if I join you?"

She was really, really trying. She knew it was unproductive. Everyone was doing everything they could to find a cure for her ailment so there was nothing more to be done. She had been learning a lot while in Swynlake and met plenty of very nice people. Her entire view of people (she very rarely said "clumsies" anymore) was being built into something far more positive. This was positive!

And yet, no matter how much she logically knew that, the empty aching of her chest continued to spin, slowly eating away at her insides like a black hole. Every day her light seemed farther away. She was being consumed by darkness.

Surely, a walk in the park will help. She found herself sitting on a bench, looking around and trying to take note of every beautiful thing. The sound of children's laughter. An unusually warm breeze for this time of year. A fullness in her stomach from the pastry she'd just eaten. Anything to bring back some light.

Her ears perked at the sound of her title, looking over. "Ah--! Iris," she said, offering a polite smile and a nod. "Yes, sit, please."

Apparently they had all gone home. To her home. They were together there.

It hadn't taken her long to rush through town, even with her cheeks burning in slight shame. How could she leave them like that? How could she just go off with someone else? What if something had happened? It would be all her fault.

As she made it to the front door, she fumbled with her keys, trying to unlock the door. When she finally managed it, she flung it open to stumble inside and see Atta there. "Are they all right?"

She was wrong.

Spending the night with children--the children in the care of the woman who might have attacked her--was not a situation she knew how to handle. She had done her best, bringing them back to their home and "helping" them get to bed, though Robbie had done most of the work, cautiously watching her the whole time.

She hadn't slept a wink, sitting on the couch. Marian could be back at any moment. She would be back, right? There was definitely something wrong after the encounter with the creature, but she was sound of mind enough to tell the boys to stay with Atta. Of course she'd be back soon.

But eventually the sun was rising and Atta's eyelids were heavy. Her sleeping habits were as fickle as the weather but she would really appreciate it if her insomnia could kick in and give her a second wind.

Luckily, it didn't have to, as the doorknob clicked and turned. As Marian stumbled inside, Atta jumped to her feet, that familiar rush of panic bursting through her for only a moment before she recognized that she--and the boys--were not in danger.

"Marian! Ah-- yes, yes, they're fine. They're still asleep."

However, he knew he couldn’t be cooped up in his apartment all day. He knew where that would lead him. So, out to the park he went.

While roaming the park he couldn’t help but notice someone who was out of breath. What stuck out to him the most was the comment she just made. If There was one thing about Antonio that made him insufferable, it was the fact that he liked to share his displeasure with the rest of the world.

"I'm sorry?" She offered, genuinely. "I'm not sure I know what you mean."

"I feel you," he replied, without looking up from where he was also currently taking refuge on the steps of the gazebo.

Though he didn't know it, he was kinda going through something similar to the person he was replying to. It had been about eight months since he'd had a demon forcibly removed from his body and he was still working on repairing all the damage that had been done. Never did fail to amaze him how fast destruction could happen, how easy it was to destroy something, and yet it took so much time for the opposite to happen. To heal, to grow, to rebuild.

He had known before going it that going out to practice skating in the snow wasn't a particularly good idea. That it might have been better to go to the lake to go re-learn how to ice-skate– but no. He had wanted to keep on getting back on track with roller skating, and thought the sidewalk was clear and melted enough to be...fine....

He had fallen a lot. At least the snow had been a nice place to land, both a cushion and cold on the sore spots where he would no doubt bruise.

He leaned forward from where he was sitting down, looking at the person he thought had spoken. "Need anything? I've got water and electrolytes in my bag. Or food, if that's more what you're looking for?"

Because living with someone like Hercules meant that he knew better than to leave the house under prepared for a 'workout.'

But her eye was immediately drawn downwards, towards the man's shoes. Or were they shoes? They had some kind of wheels on the bottom of them?

Whatever exhaustion she was feeling seemed to go on the backburner, instead replaced with the adrenaline of curiosity.

"Excuse me, can I ask--what are those?" She asked, pointing towards his wheeled shoes.

He hadn't meant to intrude but he'd spotted Atta struggling in the snow and it was a little difficult to just ignore that. Sometimes he forgot how foreign their own bodies on that larger scale could be to fairies who weren't used to it.

"I think it's hard for most people at first? I'm not much use in that though, I don't remember that far back for me." He hadn't been born in a Hollow and certainly hadn't taken his first steps in one.

"But snow isn't easy for anyone," Zero added; that stuff could look so deceptively soft but could have a habit of clinging to a person trying to walk through it. It was unusual, actually, to see Atta out in town at all, much less in the form that couldn't have been very familiar to her.

"The world pulls you down more when there's more to pull down, unfortunately." He reasoned; even though he spent less time in that natural form himself he always felt the strange weight afterwards returning to it and then going back to the human-sized body.

"Where were you going?"

"It really isn't," she agreed in between pants, pushing herself up to a full standing position. It would take a little to completely recover but she could at least pretend that she wasn't dying on the inside in the meantime.

It made sense, but even then, the difference between walking in snow, versus no-snow was not as stark a difference as she was expecting. It was always so beautiful to fly over. She didn't imagine what a toll it would take to travel through it.

"I was trying to take a walk, enjoy the views. Things are so different from this perspective but I was hoping to find the...beauty in it?"

"I'm not dreamin' o a white Christmas," he grumbled as he shuffled through the offending whiteness, hands stuffed in the pockets of his leather jacket to try and warm them. Despite his dislike of the cold, he also refused to outfit himself in more suitable winter weather gear either, so it seemed he was destined to huff and puff like the bad wolf he was all through the season.

He did not expect everyone else in town to love winter, but he did assume they were more accustomed to it than he was. So when he came upon someone in the park who seemed to share his exhaustion with the snow, Roux sidled up next to her and leaned against the gazebo himself. "No idea. Dis ain't my idea o' fun under any circumstance. I'm much more used t' warmer climes myself. Is it de same for you?"

"Ah--" It took her a second to wrap her head around the wholly unfamiliar accent. "No, no. I'm quite used to the snow. I'm just not used to going through the snow," she explained, though was sure she must sound insane. It didn't help that her headscarf was covering her pointed ears, her point indicator of her fairy heritage in this form.

If she repeated it enough times to herself perhaps it would feel a little more true.

"Hello, I was hoping I would be able to speak to Atta. I wanted to see how she was doing. Is she available for company?" The words sounded a little overly formal, but she hoped that was put dow to Steve not knowing her well instead of nerves.

"Let me check. One moment, please."

He made sure not to slam the door in her face, closing it gently before turning to face Atta.

"It's Marian," he said softly, quiet enough that their potential guest wouldn't be able to hear them from the hallway. "Do you want to see her right now? Say the word and I tell her you're too busy for guests."

That was one nice thing about Clumsy habitation; they treasured their privacy enough that they (usually) didn't push too hard when someone wanted some privacy of their own.

When he revealed their guest, her ears pinned back and her heart leaped in her throat. She hadn't seen or spoken to Marian since their time in the hospital. Instead, she'd been spoken to about Marian and her connections to the anti-Magick Order. How she was a suspect in the case, though there wasn't enough evidence to actually convict her on anything.

She didn't want to believe it. Marian had been the one to save her after all. Hadn't she? They were friends.

But Atta had accidentally revealed the truth to her brother, a half-fairy. He would be in need of dust. And if anyone had the power to steal magic, would it not be an organization such as the Order?

She didn't want to believe it. She couldn't.

"I-I can't--" She whispered, her breath hitching. Despite it all, she couldn't bring herself to see her.

She was scared, of course she was. But she was also logical. Whatever her attacker had wanted from her, they had clearly gotten. All of her dust had been taken and her magic along with it. She still didn't know how it happened. They still didn't know who had done it. But everything that made her "fairy", short of her pointed ears, had been taken.

That was a wholly depressing thought if she focused on it for too long, so she didn't. Instead, she filled her mind with the world around her. And now, it was winter! Her favorite time of the year! With snow freshly fallen, she decided to take a walking tour around and outside of town.

She liked to think she'd gotten used to this new body. But it became increasingly clear as she walked the streets of Swynlake--and especially the unshoveled paths of the park--that she had clearly missed some kind of memo. Traveling in snow was extremely difficult! She had taken her wings for granted far too long.

At some point she had to stop, resting her back against the park's gazebo and leaning forward as she panted heavily. The muscles of her legs ached and each inhale burned her lungs. "How--" She gasped, "--do people do this-- all the time?"

It was a generous offer and one that she didn't realize would be impolite to take right away. It seemed Mundus had their own traditions of sharing, just as fairies did. She smiled. "That's very kind of you, Linnet. I'm the one who is honored, really. For everything," she said, squeezing the bag of treats a little tighter. Gestures like this meant more than those offering realized.

"Of course, it's whenever is best for you. No need to gust."

As long as the princess would let her, she intended to be a helping hand, tugging her forward a step at a time.

The best way to do that was another human favorite activity: making a plan!

"How about I come back tomorrow? I got some free time in the afternoon. Of course, if that's too soon, maybe this weekend? I don't work till later." She smiled. "You got a phone now, right, your highness? We could always text to figure it out. Oh, and of course-- if it helps you feel safer, you can invite Steve too."

If she did that, though, she might continue to push it later. Just like she'd been pushing it for some time now.

"I...have not, yet," she admitted. For the purposes of what they needed, any communication usually went through Steve and his phone. It would be silly to get it if she were returning to the Hollow soon. Now as that prospect was flying away on the wind, maybe it was something to reconsider.

"B-but that's okay, tomorrow is fine! Perhaps at sun's peak? I don't think Steve will be able to join us with his work but th-that's okay!" She said, mostly trying to convince herself. "I'll follow your lead."

But she had her own money too. Since she was allowed, Linnet had a part-time job here and there. Now, she had returned to behind the bar at Pierrot, for all its flaws. But Jack Skellington offered her the job back, and why, she still thought the club was perfect for her. To her, it was a singing, living thing, and she always left her shifts feeling refreshed, music still ringing in her ears.

"Oh, well, you'll see when we get there-- everything is fair-priced! And I'm happy to share what I have as well," said Linnet, smiling. "In fact, I'd be honored, your highness. It's sort of a mundus ritual really-- treating each other, that's what they call it. I can treat you to somethin' pretty. I'd love that."

It was a generous offer and one that she didn't realize would be impolite to take right away. It seemed Mundus had their own traditions of sharing, just as fairies did. She smiled. "That's very kind of you, Linnet. I'm the one who is honored, really. For everything," she said, squeezing the bag of treats a little tighter. Gestures like this meant more than those offering realized.

"Of course, it's whenever is best for you. No need to gust."