When Lightning Strikes- A Jack Frost Fanfiction

3~A Workshop In a Windmill

A few centuries had passed since Skylar had awoken. To say her life had changed a lot since then would be an extreme understatement.

A few days after running away, she decided that watching from the sidelines as her brother grew up but not being able to interact with him was better than never seeing him again.

She was by his side almost everyday of his life. She watched as he graduated from his apprenticeship, and watched him get married. She watched as he had kids and watched as his life came to an end. She was right there at his funeral service and she continued to mourn after his body became one with the earth.

For many years after Cole's death, Skylar lingered around the village. Truthfully it was for no other reason than her not knowing what she was supposed to be doing. She traveled the world a bit after leaving, having nothing better to do. Wherever she went, storms followed. It always began subtly, with a few drops of rain falling onto her shoulders, quickly turning into pounding rain and booming thunder. Skylar found that her emotions and the intensity of an uncontrollable storm were connected. Storms that she caused while feeling bored were the weakest. She could spend days being bored in a single spot and the worst weather that would occur was heavy rain. On the other side of the spectrum was anger. When rage fueled her, infesting every nook and cranny inside her body, winds strong enough to rip trees out of the ground would whip past her in a matter of minutes.

Skylar caused many disastrous events during her travels, the weight of those who got swept up in the chaos constantly pushed down on her shoulders. No matter how hard she tried, the deaths she caused clung onto her, like a small animal clung to its mother, never to let her go and never loosening their grip. She needed a place to stay, somewhere abandoned, somewhere no one would try to visit her.

Somewhere she could stay to keep the world safe from her.

Returning to the Netherlands, she came upon an abandoned windmill sitting in the middle of a field filled with dead grass. This would be perfect. No one had visited for years and after she had settled in, the constant storms would ward off any unwanted visitors.

Shortly after settling into her new home, Skylar got to work crafting. She had attended the lessons given to Cole in his smithing apprenticeship and retained the information somewhere in her brain for this very day. She had always loved watching the makers fill the quotas they were given. Turning scraps into something useful was some Skylar had always wanted to do but never could. She was a female after all, her mother made sure she knew that. It was only in her second life that she was able to do what she truly loved.

Skylar had redesigned the interior of the windmill to fit her needs, adding separate levels with stairs linking them to each other. The first floor had many of the rooms you would find in a normal house although no walls separated them. A living room, dining room, and a kitchen were sparsely decorated with mismatching furniture, a lot of which, was made from metal. The stairs wrapped around the walls of the cilindrical room, leading to her workshop. Above that her bedroom, with a ladder onto the roof.

Up in her workshop she made many things. The first and most important of which were her gloves. She never took them off. Leather, fingerless gloves that buttoned onto her wrist. She had found that her palms were the source of the electricity. It then rushed to her fingertips and outwards after that. So, she decided to stop it at the source and protect her palms. The bolts couldn't get passed the leather so the gloves effectively kept her powers at bay. She had decided to continue imprisoning the currents until she had learned to fully control them.

Skylar also made many metal workings, slaving over an anvil for hours at a time to perfect her crafts. Whether they were tools and weapons or little nick-nacks to keep by her bedside, she made them all.

Picking up many different hobbies over the years she found training to be one of her favorites. When she had the time outside she would practice with the new weapons she had crafted. On long days stuck inside, she found inventing easier and more sufficient ways to get boring tasks done gave her great comfort.

During the first centuries she rarely left her windmill besides her frequent trip to the junkyards to pick up any parts she needed.

Another hobby she picked up during her years as an immortal was tinkering. The handmade shelves of her windmill were filled to the brim with small bits and bobbles along with toys she had made. In her bedroom, the walls were lined with battle axes and nunchucks, and her closet was adorned with many different styles of clothing.

Skylar had tried out many different styles over the years before finding one she liked. On her top she wore a black, zip up, cropped tank top with a halter neckline. A belt, with many hooks and straps to hold tools securely in place rested on her hips while below she wore black leggings that had brown leather patches on the knees she had sewn on herself. A cork necklace hung around her neck and fingerless leather gloves covered her hands.

She had ran into a few spirits in her time but made an attempt to stay clear of most of them. She didn't exactly enjoy company and they had there own things they needed to be doing, bringing joy to kids and whatnot.

Bringing joy to kids.

They made kids happy, kids loved them, kids believed in them. Specifically the big 5 guardians.

And then there was the rest of the spirits, looking each day for a purpose or a reason to keep going.

That's the group Skylar fit into and she had accepted that. The two groups were separate, the guardians and all of the others. Although a few months ago, someone had crossed over.

Jack Frost.

He had become a guardian. Not only that, he saved all the children of the world from a lifetime of bad dreams. Kids started to believe in him. He got the thing all spirits from the second group want.

He was seen.