tag: rise of the guardians; Guardians of childhood

code: Join me: I have dark chocolate and coffee; One step more and I make her mine!

Christmas Eve.

Pitch wasn't fond of many holidays, and he celebrated even fewer, but Christmas was one that he liked far less than most. A holiday about love and togetherness, warmth and light ans family, it was no wonder that it left him bitter and foul tempered every time December the Twenty-Fifth rolled around. And this year, if possible, was worse than all the others.

He had finally clawed his way out of his nightmares' grips, broken his way to freedom though the seal that had been placed on his realm, only to discover that it was merely one night before Christmas. There would be no fear this night, nothing to replenish himself after the long struggle. No, the only hint of fear tonight would be the tiny, petty worries about whether or not gifts would be sufficient. This was no holiday for the Bogeyman.

So he returned to the shadows and the darkness that he had ever called home thinking to rest a while and let the holidays pass before reemerging an seeking to regain some measure of strength again.

Christmas Day.

There were noises, unusual noises within his realm. Sounds that he had not ever heard within his world of darkness and shadows. He heard laughter, and singing, Christmas Carols, of all things, and happy voices. Angered, he went to seek out what was causing this disturbance, what was ruining his rest. He was not expecting what he found.

The globe chamber was completely changed. Garlands were strung along the walls, and there was a tree, a grand tree, set up in front of the massive globe and decorated, though not strung with lights. Presents sat under the tree, and the most surprising thing to Pitch, the Guardians sat next to it, each holing a filled stocking and wearing a bright smile.

Muse had been around a long time, but not as long as some others. In human terms, she was ancient, but when it came to some other powerful beings around, she was barely middle-aged. She knew a lot of what had come before her though, mostly because knowing was part of her business. After all, how could one inspire others when your own knowledge was limited to a few subjects.

The starlight sprinkled down through the open door of the balcony as little grey blue eyes watched the cogs and wheels of a marble mover twist and turn. Eyes following the marbles as they made their way through the mechanism. On the desktop a gramophone played a record of symphonies her grandmother had given her, it was soothing, the waltz that played.

With a sigh she shifted from the marble mover to sit outside on the balcony, dressed in her pajamas and holding her worn stuffed horse to her chest. Her focus was the stars shining brightly above her. The seven year old hummed to the music, and sighing her little wish.