I Dream of Disney (Volume II)

Fate & Fatality; Plague & Paradise [Jack FrostXReaderXPitch Black] Part II

Part II -  Third Time (Un)Lucky & The Superstitious Believer

Three years later. . .

This Friday the thirteenth had started with a splendid bang. More specifically, the sound of that ladder as it collapsed on top of that unlucky gentleman who tried to cut his commute by rushing beneath the supports. The Spirit of Luck had decided to take her magic to the town of Burgess, sweeping in for a few hours to stir the pot and dish out what the townspeople deserved.

The start of her superstitious journey led her to a bus stop. It seemed the unlikeliest start for her to begin her journey, but there was something special about that particular bench that positioned her in the heart of the town. For one, the view it offered gave her a pleasant view of the main road where she could see the daily motions of people coming and going: packs of people leaving from the buses, just to have more cluster in on their commute; the dull neon sign of the window of the nearby diner told her that it was open 24/7; a short distance was walkable to get to all of the major shops and attractions. It was a good spot. Despite all of the touristy reasons for coveting the bench, her favourite thing about it was that it was set just behind a concrete walkway. Across this walkway, the stone was chipped and cracked.

Dressed in something special for her big day, (Y/n) had to get some clothes to blend in with the crowd. Since superstitions were some of the oldest beliefs had by human imaginations, the very first ideas hatched by the brilliant minds of humanity, many people believed in her. In some cultures, the superstition was the lifeblood that beat through the beating heart of religion - except for these modern "scientist" types who declared her foolish and insignificant. Still, she could never be too careful. From the cautious looks of some of the other patrons who crossed paths with her, she knew that she wasn't blending in too well but well enough; the locals could see a teenager with her legs sprawled nonchalantly on the sidewalk, spearing her white Nikes in their direction. The white-trimmed bomber jacket and fandom t-shirt only heightened their suspicion. It was freezing cold that day - promising snow later in the day - and yet the only thing that she could possibly have to protect her from the cold was the thin scarf wrapped around her throat and the fingerless leather gloves clenched around the umbrella.

Just as the next bus pulled up to the sidewalk, dispensing its commuters, (Y/n) felt her fingers twinkling in anticipation. Unbiased luck was about to shake the hand of every commuter who left the vehicle. The first victim was a stone-faced accountant. His shiny leather shoes stepped over the thin network of cracks, joints and damaged concrete. In order not to draw attention from those that could see her, she slipped on a pair of headphones and set to snapping her fingers. Each time she snapped her fingers and another victim stepped onto the cracks, she gave them a pinch of their bad luck. Some of the younger kids had mothers who would be in the middle of whatever daily task and would feel a spike of pain when they bent over to pick up a discarded toy. Some of those had a direct connection and felt their back muscles tense. There must've been about twenty-six commuters in direct succession. Some interchanged, stepping on or walking off, but only one person paused.

A slow smirk spread across (Y/n)'s face. Superstition, she could scent it on the wind. 

"Hey," Asked the believer, "Do you mind if I sit here?"

Waving her arm in a nonchalant gesture, (Y/n) invited her, "Please do. That is," There was a ripple of a smile on her lips, "if you don't think it would be bad luck."

The girl rolled her eyes, "I don't believe in luck."

(Y/n) shook her head slowly, "Yes, you do."

The girl stared at the Spirit of Luck. After a moment of hesitation, she sat down on the opposite side of the bench and tried to become absorbed by the screen of her BlackBerry. It might have worked except that the metaphysical energy lapping off of (Y/n), whose energy was ramped up by all of the superstitious activity, was distracting her. Leaning one arm against the bench rail and one on her umbrella, the Spirit turned to face her.