#jack fost

“For the millionth time, I don’t want to talk with you, Pitch.” He seethed, glaring at the distant snow-covered mountains; “I don’t care about what you have to say. You've tried and tried again, but-”

“Jack, you must really hear me out. Consider the possibilities! Your life as you know it could change- you- we wouldn't be invisible!” The man covered in darkness persisted, slinking closer, chasing away the light the moon provided. “We would be believed in! All the children of the world would know your name! They would see you- hear you-”

"-in their nightmares. And that's not what I want. It’s not what I do- not who I am." Even without knowing his purpose or even why he existed, he knew enough to not be swayed by the man’s slithering words, especially words filled with poison; he knew what he wanted, a child to enjoy his gift and acknowledge it. No where in his mind did he want to see any child cower in fear at what he gave, at what he was.

Most adults thought so badly of winter, with it’s bringing of harsh times and cold, biting winds. He only wanted to prove to the children that not every aspect of the winter was as horrible and depressing as they were led to believe. It wasn’t as bad as it was in his earlier years, but even so... he needed to show them that it could be more fun than they ever imagined. He- winter was something to be loved and anticipated, not unwanted and feared.

If he joined Pitch, none of that would ever happen and he’d be more worse off than he was now, forever alone and hated. He’d forever be coupled the darker side of winter, never having the chance to be more than something kids were warned against. And yet, the shadow figure always came back every year to convince him otherwise- he was young and immature, not an idiot that could be easily swayed by flawed reasoning.

He only just reached a milestone with the coming age. And from past experiences with Pitch- even from rumors he'd heard floating around, the sprite knew that whatever he suggested would never bode well with him.

“You must see the truth in my words. You must see that with me yo-”

Jack struck the ground between them with the end of his staff, effectively ending the man’s sentence and shoving him back a few feet, “I’d rather melt in a desert- in fact, I’d rather side with the Easter kangaroo then join you. Leave me alone- you’re wasting both of our time!” He turned and stalked away, intent on flying far, far, far away.

Quick as a viper, blackness reached out, fingers like claws-

-a leap took him off the ground and onto the safety of a stone arch that stood near them, staff swiping at the disfigured appendage.

Frost grew around him, biting at the tendrils reaching from the shadows. Jack glared at the dark spirit, “Did you hear what I said? Leave me alone!” He threw his arm out in a wide gesture as he all but spit out his words, the Wind rallying behind him and his anger.

Somewhere in the darkening sky, screeches were heard. Jack jerked back from Pitch, suspicious of the dark mass he was slowly becoming, no longer resembling a man but rather that of a carved statue, ever imposing. But he didn't back down completely, nor did he shrink in his resolve; in fact, he kept his ground, his ice and the Wind staying by his side. He wasn’t a coward, a shadow that shied away from confrontation. No, he was winter incarnate. He made his own rules and listened to no one. With the cold running in his veins and and ice flaring in his eyes, he would not back down.

Pitch raised a finger, eyes burning bright, voice turning irritated, “It’s in your best interest to remember just who exactly you’re talking to...”

The man rose to a height far higher than the winter sprite, becoming thick as a redwood, rotted and smelling like tar. The burl that was his head broke out from the black, eclipse-like eyes narrowed and jaw set. “Even in this state I can still easily crush a small and weak spirit like you.” A clawed hand slammed down on the stone that made up his perch, producing scratches and cracks. The nightmare king’s face loomed over Jack, “I’m trying to show you a better option to a better life, Jack, but you keep throwing it aside. If only you’d listen-”

The hand retreated to avoid impalement from the end of Jack’s staff, moving to join the rest of the mass. Jack was seething, his fist clenching and unclenching in an effort to hold himself back, “Don’t think you’re all high and mighty, Pitch. Why should everything you say have to be true? Do you really expect me to believe that it's the only way? Because it's not. And it is certainly not mine.” He yanked his staff back, needing to leave before he froze half the continent they were on.

All the over the top fanfare did nothing to fill Jack with fear, nor would it ever. Bullies were something he'd fight, not cower in fear of.

“You’ll regret this...” Jack didn't stop the sound of disinterest that escaped his mouth, shaking his head, once again turning his back. Dead set on leaving, he was stopped in his tracks the moment he took his first step. Not with any trap or trick, but with the words that snaked out from behind him and took a stab at his fears, “... and now you’ll stay invisible forever, with no one to believe in you.”

With that, the darkness receded, voice fading and blown away by an infuriated Wind, but somehow still ringing in the spirit's ears.

The moon resumed its silent watch.