In the dark of the night (for boogerman)

[havesomefun]

 His name was Jack Frost, and that was all the Man in the Moon had ever told him.

Beyond that, his life is aimless, empty, and lonely. A life where no one ever sees him, no matter how much he reaches out or screams for their attention. It took a while, but he's given up trying. Now Jack just spends his days existing, and tries to figure out what that means for him anymore.

He's not entirely unable to affect the world, at least. If he draws pictures on the ground in frost ferns, other people can see them. If he passes along a snowball to a kid that's in the middle of a snowball fight, they can hold it. Jack tries to content himself with that. He can brighten people's lives through the short winter days, even if inevitably most everyone huddles safely inside when night comes.

Night is his least favorite time of day. With no one else around, it's impossible to pretend that he's anything but alone, except for the moon. Even when it's not visible in the sky, he can feel it watching him. Which is a shame, considering that Jack tends to be most comfortable following the winter. When the cold moves on, so does he. It's when he's standing with his feet in the snow that he feels the most real.

Which makes it all the more shocking when one day he feels something or someone else watching him.

Jack is absentmindedly trudging down a side-street in a quiet town in northern England when the feeling creeps over him. He tries to ignore it, tries to dismiss it as the hallucination it so clearly is. But after another few steps, the sense of being seen and observed is impossible to ignore, especially as unfamiliar as it is.

He looks up, and finds his gaze drawn to a house at the end of the street. But he can't see anyone. There are only shadows.

...including one, deeper shadow, that seems to be slowly detaching itself from the side of the house and creeping away from it.

Comments

[boogerman]

It isn't the first time he's seen the white-haired boy. He knows damn well that Snowball (as he's dubbed the boy for the time being) is a fellow spirit, because Snowball flies. Which Pitch cannot do, not these days, comparatively weak as he is. His days of glory are long past.

And that's why he hasn't spoken to Snowball, not once. Hard to have a conversation with someone you've only seen a handful of times by chance, flitting from place to place. Could this be a real chance to say hello, if the young new spirit stays grounded long enough?

Goldish-silver eyes glint at the boy from the shadows, a grin following. He sees you...

[havesomefun]

...he sees him.

Jack draws in a long, shuddering breath to realize it. This has to be a dream. He doesn't sleep, but this still has to be a dream. And yet, as is commonly the way in dreams, Jack still draws slowly nearer to the stranger, operating on instinct rather than logic.

His knuckles go whiter around his staff as he prepares to use it to defend himself, if need be...even if he's not remotely sure how he'd do that. He's never had to, before. He probably won't have to, now, but being looked at after so long ignored has him on edge for a variety of reasons.

He stays grounded. And as he pads close enough to make out those eyes, that smile, he even leans a little nearer for the sake of calling out: "...hello?"

[boogerman]

Scared. Snowball is scared half to death, for all the wrong reasons. Pitch was never close enough to know Snowball's deep running fears either. Now he is and he almost feels... pity. How does a spirit come about without believers to kickstart their life and give them purpose? Poor, poor thing. It hits rather close to home, too.

The man in the shadows steps forward after a moment, hands in the air to reassure Snowball. His voice is quiet, calm. "Easy, easy. I'm not going to hurt you."

[havesomefun]

"Not going to..."

Some tension bleeds out of Jack's shoulders that he hadn't fully appreciated was there until that moment. Not going to hurt him. Of course not. Why would the only person who's ever seen him want to hurt him? Even Jack's life couldn't possibly be that unfair...right?

He manages a hesitant smile in relief, even laughing a little as he draws nearer to the stranger. "I didn't think you were going to..." He did, even if only for a minute. He has a lot to be uncertain about. "I was just...surprised. I mean..."

But now he's just...overwhelmed with relief. Happy, even. Jack taps a finger against his chest and asks, still sounding faintly incredulous: "You can really see me?"

[boogerman]

"You were thinking it. I knew it, I always know it. I can't possibly not know." People can close their eyes, plug their ears, but he can't stop his sixth sense and not notice fears. Only ignore them if he feels like it.

"Why yes, of course I can see you. I've seen you before, zipping round in the sky. Three times, I think. I can't fly like you, or I might have given chase."

[havesomefun]

"You...'knew' it?"

He really only has to take one look at Pitch's face to realize that he's not being metaphorical, and that opens up a host of questions. "I didn't mean to." He sounds genuinely apologetic, and even feels yet another flash of fear at the idea of offending or upsetting this stranger.

"I just...how do you know? How can you see me? Who are you?" He draws nearer and nearer with every question, until at last he can reach out and try to catch a hold of Pitch's...robe? Sleeve? Especially now that he's off the street, it's dark enough that it's hard to fully make out details.

"You say 'of course' you can, but..." He swallows painfully in an attempt to keep his voice steady. It still breaks a little. "No one ever has."

[boogerman]

He jerks back, avoiding the touch, undead-like heart thudding once in his chest, startled that Snowball would even try. Reflexes and paranoia, that's a large part of Pitch's mind...

"I'm the Nightmare King. I know all the fear there is." Hoo boy, that's a rush of questions. Poor mad boy. "We're alike, therefore we can see each other." A hint of resignation in his voice suddenly: "They can't see me either. People who can are so rare they might as well not exist. I call myself Pitch."

[havesomefun]

Jack, meanwhile, jerks his hand back like he's just been scalded at that abrupt reaction from Pitch. "Sorry," he says again, wincing, and sticks his hand in his pocket for good measure. His shoulders slump a little.

But then he listens intently, almost hungrily, because Pitch really does seem to have answers, after a fashion. So there's people like him, and there's...everyone else? Well, that's certainly how it's felt to Jack for his entire "life".

"My name's Jack. Jack Frost. It's great to meet you, Pitch."

[boogerman]

"Jack Frost. I'd been calling you Snowball." he muses, half to himself, glinting eyes returning to Jack after a moment. It's been so so long since he's had a civil conversation with a fellow spirit, and that's what this seems to be shaping up to be. He's more composed and cool about it than Jack, of course. "How long have you been flittering about?"

[havesomefun]

Jack actually finds himself snorting in amusement, at this. "'Snowball'? Really?" He summons one to his hand and tosses it deftly back and forth. "Little on the nose there, don't you think?" He might as well call Pitch "Spooky".

Not that he minds overmuch, either way. Jack just shrugs in response to the spirit's other question. "Don't know. Haven't really been keeping track. A few years, maybe?"

[boogerman]

"Bite me, I haven't seen you do much else." Fly, make snowballs, he'd only caught glimpses. "You don't sit still long enough, or I might have spoken to you sooner."

A few years. His eyes widen slightly. This is a very young spirit, practically a baby. "And you don't know you're a spirit?"

[havesomefun]

Jack sounds torn between indignation and amusement when he replies. "That's not all I can do." Maybe if Pitch wasn't so old and slow, he would have had time to notice.

But even Jack can see that there are more important things to be discussed, right then, and so he settles down a little.

"A 'spirit'?" The boy tilts his head curiously. "Like...a ghost? I mean, I guess it was pretty easy to figure out." Flying around, not capable of being perceived by anyone else but other ghosts. It makes as much sense as anything, he supposes.

"All I know is what the Man in the Moon told me." His voice takes on a note of rare bitterness that's probably all the more audible as a result. "And that was pretty much just my name."

[boogerman]

"A ghost, a spirit, with your own magic. We can only be seen if they believe in us." He sounds very, very bitter at his last statement. So few believers. So long since he's been strong.

Then he blinks, as Jack continues on. "He spoke to you? And that's all he bothered to tell you?"

[havesomefun]

"If they...!" Jack actually sputters a bit, visibly taken aback at the...unfairness of this. "How are they ever supposed to believe in us if they can't see us?! Humans are believing in less and less every year!" Even he can see that much, having only been alive for a few years at all.

"And I'm not..." He slumps a little, looking lost and hopeless, almost seeming to need to hold on to his staff for support now. "I'm not a spirit of anything." Winter isn't something people need to believe in. And even if they did, it comes and goes without him. He just gets caught up in it, and prefers to stay in it. "What are they supposed to believe in?"

Now Pitch isn't the only one sounding bitter. "Let me guess. This is all something he was supposed to fill me in on?"

[boogerman]

Pitch laughs, and the bitterness has seeped into even that now. Jack's train of thought running along the same tracks his does, all the time. "That's what I always say! It's been this way for--oh, ages. I don't know anymore."

Sorry, Jackie. He has no solutions for you...

"It would have been kind of him. Shame he's never kind. Not to me and apparently not to you."

[havesomefun]

Jack visibly bristles at the sound of Pitch's laughter. "Don't...!" Don't laugh at me, he wants to yell. Don't accept this, how can you laugh about this, how can you be so calm?!

"This isn't funny!" His hurt and his rage are expressed through ice as well as words - ice crackling around his fingertips and along the staff like grounded lightning. It swirls around his feet, as well, until the snow all around him along the path begins to solidify into thick, slick ice. Not that he loses his footing at all.

It feels good, doing that, it feels like letting off a scream. Even so, Jack finds himself pacing in a circle, agitated and upset, running the fingers of his free hand through his hair.

"This can't be it. This can't be...it."

Why was he even created, if this is all there is to his life?

[boogerman]

Pitch has backed off, well away from the circle of ice, worried for his own safety. Perhaps the baby spirit has gone mad, or is in the process of doing so, and small wonder. At least Pitch has memories of better days, of friendship with other spooks, and such...

"For pity's sake, I wasn't laughing at you! And this doesn't have to be it! Now turn off the ice before you hurt someone!"

[havesomefun]

Turn off the ice. Turn off the ice. He doesn't want to. He wants to run wild. He wants to fly himself into trees and paint his displeasure on every wall and road. He wants to make the wind howl so that the people can't help but hear him, he wants snow to blot out the world...

Jack takes one deep breath. And another and another. As though he's physically pulling the ice into himself along with the air, it recedes a little each time. It feels like pulling up floorboards with his bare hands, but he's able to make it melt and fade. The wind quiets. The snow stops falling.

As the ice withdraws, so does he. Jack stumbles a pace or two against the wall of the house, and when he feels its solid presence he slumps back against it. He wraps his arms around his stomach and just...tries to keep breathing. He doesn't need to, but it's just one trick among many he has for reminding himself that he's real.

He doesn't look up, just stares down at his bare feet. He's suddenly, piercingly sure that if he looks up, Pitch will be gone. Jack will have scared off the one person who's ever been able to look at him...

...damn it. He's crying, too, isn't he? Maybe it would be a mercy if Pitch left.

[boogerman]

Pitch does not. He waits, watching the ice retreat like a sped-up glacier. What does he do now? He's usually the one who causes upset and then moves on, leaving sobbing children in his wake for their parents to comfort...

Jack has no parents. Spirit baby. It's pitiful. How does one comfort a child? Hugs. Touching. Kind words.

He can't bring himself to attempt a hug, or even a handshake. He might have snap himself if he does touch someone real.

Eventually, he clears his throat, unsubtle.

[havesomefun]

Jack flinches a little at the sound of Pitch clearing his throat. "I'm fine," he says immediately, a little more loudly than he means to. With a deliberate effort, Jack stands up straight again. He ducks his head, scrubs at his eyes, and blinks his vision clear. When he finally does lift his head again, he looks...not well, necessarily, but definitely steadier. The damage is even less obvious when he pulls his hood up.

"...I'm fine," he says, again, and this time he sounds a little more like he means it. He even manages a stiff nod of acknowledgement for Pitch. "And...thanks. Honestly, thanks. For telling me."

At least now he knows.

[boogerman]

"You're about as fine as I am." he says, still coolly. Icy, almost. That may be how he hides his own upset, lacking a hood and out of the shadows. He glances up towards the moon, sneering for an instant, then going blank again. This is just about the cruelest thing the Man has ever done.

"Who says you have to be fine? Let the Moon see what he did to you."

[havesomefun]

"Do you think he cares?"

If the Moon cared about the two of them...why would this have happened in the first place?

"Besides, I'm still here, so..." Here he shrugs, helplessly. "Guess it doesn't matter either way." Whether he's "fine" or "not fine", that is. He still has to find a way to fill the days. He still prefers existing to not existing, even if this is apparently not what "existing" is meant to be.

Here Jack tries for a smile. It definitely still looks a little strained. "Still, sorry to get you caught up in...all of that." He gestures obliquely at the ground around his feet with his staff.

[boogerman]

"Not about me. About you? I have no idea. It's clear his mind is a strange place. Say whatever you want about me and my wrongdoings, I wouldn't wish this on anyone." Bitter, so bitter, he has centuries of bitter.

"...No harm done."

[havesomefun]

Jack hesitates for a moment. Obviously, this shouldn't be entirely new information. Even he knows that someone who calls himself the "Nightmare King" probably has a somewhat questionable past. But he'd been so caught up in actually having been able to have a conversation that he hadn't thought too much about what that might mean.

He can't ignore that, now. He's...not sure how he feels about the possibility, but he has to ask.

"What kind of 'wrongdoings' are we talking about?" He shrugs, trying to put on a casual front. "Maybe I did the same thing."

[boogerman]

"You didn't. Trust me. You don't stir up fear, paranoia, by showing up." Enough of a tidbit for Jack to chew on? Maybe, he hopes.

[havesomefun]

Very few things are enough of a tidbit for Jack to chew on. He's incredibly curious by nature and this is actually serving to give him an outlet for that. But the upside of being on the outside of life for so long is that he's also gotten reasonably good at putting pieces together.

He's visibly thoughtful for a moment, before speaking again: "So when you call yourself the 'Nightmare King'...is that what you do? Make people have nightmares?" That...doesn't sound like fun at all. No wonder Pitch is so grumpy.

"Why?"

[boogerman]

"Why not?" Jack thinks it isn't fun. Jack's wrong. What's fun is only an opinion, and he's allowed to have different ones. "But seriously, I suppose you could say I eat them. They give me strength. All fear does."

Not to mention that it might not be a metaphor. He's thin... and he knows he wasn't always scrawny in the past. But, of course, he has no idea what hunger feels like to a living person, or eating. Or being full.

[havesomefun]

Jack can think of a few different reasons why not. But...if Pitch really does eat nightmares, then there's nothing much to be said about it, is there? And if he's as old as he claims to be, then...well, he can't really be hurting people, can he?

The honest fact of the matter, that even Jack is not letting himself dwell on, is that he's up for any excuse not to pick a fight or get on Pitch's bad side. Earning Pitch's ire would likely either result in Jack hurt or alone again. The world is a big place. He definitely might not agree with the other spirit's idea of fun...but he's prepared to try and make room for it.

"Well hey, uh, there's plenty of that around. And if I caught you in the middle of feeding..." Jack steps aside and motions for Pitch to continue on, if he wants. "Don't let me stop you."

[boogerman]

"Trying to get rid of me?" That doesn't make any sense, considering Jack has no one else--has never had a single other person to speak to. Unless it's too much for him to take. "Are you sure that's what you want?"

Pitch himself isn't sure. There has to be more to life than nightmares and reading books alone.

[havesomefun]

"W-What?" Jack looks stricken at the very idea. "No, I didn't mean..."

What does he mean? Jack slumps a little, looking lost, clinging to his staff like a lifeline. He is definitely a little overwhelmed, he supposes. All of this is a lot to take in. He definitely has the urge to just...fly for a while, see if he can outpace all these revelations and what they mean for his, for lack of a better word, "life".

But if he parts ways with Pitch, how long will it take him to ever find the other spirit again?

"...I don't want to get rid of you. But I don't want you to have to...to babysit me, either." And it did look like Pitch was in the middle of feeding when Jack wandered by. Maybe he interrupted.

[boogerman]

It's funny. He used to have his own staff like that, formed from shadows, until he ran into a nasty light-demon and it burned away... Strange parallels.

"Babysit?" He arches a brow. "How is having a simple conversation anything like babysitting? You look at least sixteen, anyhow. How old do you think you are?"

He's finding he's sort of enjoying this... more than sort of. Jack is harmless. Jack doesn't mind what he is, a creature feeding off fear and nightmares. Jack's friendly. And he can admit to himself it's been... very lonely for centuries.

[havesomefun]

Jack's grin is a little sheepish, even as he visibly relaxes a little. "I don't know. Sixteen's as good a guess as any. You just talk like you're way older."

He's definitely a baby compared to Pitch, though. And...Jack knows in his center that he is a child. An old child, definitely. But even if he lived for another hundred years, he doesn't think he'll ever really feel "grown". And really, that's the least of his problems. It might not even be a problem.

[boogerman]

He chuckles again, demeanor relaxed into something almost friendly. Friendly in a very Pitchlike way, drawling and somewhat sarcastic, but not dangerous. Or cruel. "I think if I told you how old I am, you would fly off, and we can't have that. Who knows when I'd catch you again?"

[havesomefun]

Jack laughs, too - he has an easy sort of laugh, one that definitely sounds as young as he is. And it's easier for him to be upbeat than depressed, which means Pitch's barbs and sarcasm don't really bother him all that much. "After everything I've learned tonight, you think that would scare me off? I'm not exactly scared of numbers, y'know."

Still, the other spirit raises a decent point...

"Maybe we should have a place where we can meet up. Just in case."

The world is a big place, and a lot can happen. It's clear to Jack by now that neither of them necessarily wants to separate from the other, but...just in case.

[boogerman]

"I don't suppose you have a 'place' of your own?" Pitch does, of course, but it's tailored to him and even a fellow spirit would probably be blind as a bat in the dark and hate it. No matter how many interesting things and comfortable chairs there are once you get past the creepy cages. "You wouldn't like mine much, it's too dark. You'd slam into the walls."

[havesomefun]

"Yeah, I guess that would kind of spoil the mood."

A place of his own, though...? "But as for me...not really? I guess I never really thought I needed something like that." And he's been alive so little time that he would have barely had time to set up a hideout to the extent that Pitch has.

"Antarctica's pretty nice, though. If you go far enough north, it's pretty much just ice and snow." And darkness - the sun doesn't shine there for months at a time. That didn't used to hold any appeal for Jack, but if it makes it easier for Pitch to get around, that counts for something now.

[boogerman]

"No? I don't suppose I need it, but I do like to... 'borrow' things and I needed somewhere to keep them. And it's nice to have a place you created."

Hmm, Antarctica. He knows how to get there, of course, but with no people living there, why would he bother? "Antarctica's a large place." he points out, dryly. "We'd still have trouble running in to each other."

[havesomefun]

That is also a problem, and one that Jack had clearly only realized halfway through making the suggestion. Fortunately, just before he settles in to looking really at a loss, a possible solution occurs to him.

"I'll make a tower. Somewhere up high. Tall enough to see through whatever storm that place whips up. So all you'd have to do is look for the mountains." Of which there's at least only the one big range, he knows.

He taps his staff somewhat thoughtfully against the ground, adding: "I know I could." He doesn't, not really, but given enough time there's no reason he couldn't. "It's not like I use this for a lot of big magic nowadays."

[boogerman]

"Could you?" He won't question Jack's instincts--when he was young, he had the same about his powers. And there were more then, eons ago. "How long do you think you'd take? When should I start searching?"

[havesomefun]

"It'd take me...a couple of days, maybe?" The passing of time is hard to determine in a place like Antarctica, but combined between the amount of rest he thinks he need and the amount of time he thinks it would take him to sculpt that amount of ice...Jack is reasonably confident about that assessment.

As for when...that's a little harder to judge. He just hasn't been alive long enough to really develop enough of a routine where a disruption might be noticeable. But if Pitch is any indication, Jack can hopefully expect to live a long while longer. So maybe it's safe to make a few assumptions...

"I usually follow the winter. So...if you don't see me passing by after a year..." After winter has come and gone. "Maybe then?" Here he shrugs. "Sorry I can't offer too much more than that. Open to suggestions, though."

[boogerman]

"I'll check in at Antarctica, in... ah, perhaps a week. And if I don't, I have my own entrances to home scattered here and there. You might know them when you find them. Think of it as a game."

Jack seems like the sort to play games with--someone who just wants to play in general. And his tunnels throughout the world are already there. Have been for millennia. So why not?

[havesomefun]

Jack is most certainly someone who wants to play - it's an impulse he'd been more-or-less born with and has never really had the chance to indulge, before now. So when he realizes just what, exactly, Pitch is offering, he damn near beams in anticipation, straightening up like he'd just received a bolt of energy straight to the center.

"Man, I hope you're not keeping any snacks down there. Because they definitely won't last the week."

However dark and creepy it might be in Pitch's "home", Jack is resolved that he'll find his way there anyway. He's invited Pitch into his, for lack of a better word, "territory". It seems only fair.

[boogerman]

Inwardly a bit proud of himself for reading the boy that well, when it has nothing to do with fears, to get such a good reaction... it's satisfying.

Also, gross. "No, I don't keep food down there to rot. Try not to break anything if you do somehow find one, some of my things are very old."

[havesomefun]

Not that gross!

...maybe a little gross. Still, he looks only a little sheepish. It's not like he can make himself sick. It's not even like he really has to eat.

Jack wonders if this is new territory for Pitch, getting to talk to someone who's even less adept at talking than he himself might be as another spirit not believed in.

"Don't worry, your stuff'll be fine." He pretty much never breaks things. At least, not when he's in a good mood. But that seems far less likely to happen here. So it'll be fine.

"So. In the meantime, where are you headed?"

[boogerman]

New territory in so many ways, a friendly lonely spirit, a conversation not full of two-way hurling of insults ending in violence, a conversation at all, not just Black chattering to himself and pretending his victim is able to hear and listening... It's been so long it is very new all over again.

"No accidents or I'll find some way to make you feel guilty for the next century." He means it. Rare books about to fall apart anyway, iced over? That would be a tragedy. "Nowhere in particular yet. I wander, and I have a feeling you do too."

[havesomefun]

((ooc: So I'm thinking that, at some point, Jack is inevitably going to fuck up and ruin one of Pitch's books.))

"You know it." Technically, he has a direction in life - he follows the winter - but even Jack can't predict the weather entirely. So it works out to be about the same. "Well, hey. Before we start up our 'game', maybe you can show me some sights?" His smile takes on a note of teasing again. "From a 'ground's-eye view', kind of thing."

Teasing aside, he'll deign to stay on solid ground for a bit longer, if it means he can keep pace with his new friend.

[boogerman]

((Cue Pitch hiding them all in some sealed off cavern only he can get to?))

"Depends. What I like, I doubt you do too. There is a church nearby." Fear of God and all that, it still amuses him deeply. Spirits exist and God does not, certainly not that Pitch has ever seen. "You, you'd probably rather visit a schoolyard."