Where Do We Go From Here

Responsibility and Fun Don't Always Mix

Where Do We Go From Here||Responsibility and Fun Don't Always Mix

Chapter Summary: Jack is responsible... to a degree. But when North doesn't believe him, and forces him to do his job the way the Big Man wants it to be done, Bad Things happen, the same kind of Bad Things that usually happen around Jack when he feels strong emotions, sometimes from his power, sometimes Wind-North, and even Mother Nature on occasion. Once in a rare while, it's all three. Can the Workshop sustain such damage and still remain standing?

Chapter Rating: T because Jack gets a little... upset... and he is a teenager, you know, just a childlike-at-heart one. He is still reasonably knowledgeable about teenager-y stuff like modern cuss words, which he uses in this (d*mn used a few times, f* word used once).

Note: North thinks of Jack as a winter spirit. Jack is the Spirit of Winter. There is a distinction between those two, and between those and sprites, in my head. It is important and is not accidental. Everything I write (excluding typos) is written that way for a reason (ex: random capital letters. They are supposed to be like that).

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Disclaimer: I do not own RotG, now stfu and stop making me cry *curses through sobs*

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"Okay. Route planning. First can be Canada, they've been due for a storm for a little while now, I haven't been there personally in a few days. Then I'll go southeast to the East Coast, New York hasn't gotten a major snowstorm since before Hurricane Sandy, that's actually a really bad name for it especially since Sandy's not a destructive force of nature like me, oh, whoops, off topic again! Well, the Big Apple is definitely getting some snow... Okay, more than some, make that a blizzard's-worth..." Jack trailed off, mumbling and counting on his fingers as he sat in front of one of those maps they use in schools, but North-sized, so it was massive.

North had plopped the kid down at a desk in front of the map and hadn't allowed him to move from the seat. Jack glanced down at his chair. It was understandable, really, he probably would have been out the window the moment North left the room.

The ankle shackle was total overkill though.

The chair was too heavy for his toothpick frame to lift and with his ankle chained to it, he could only swing one foot at almost the speed of light to release the nervous energy that built up the more he stayed still. Usually, he'd have a much smaller map held out in front of him as he flew across Russia or Canada, bringing snowfall with him, even though he didn't need to look at the paper anymore; he memorized countries as quickly as they came to power and tucked them and all their facts safely away in the back of his head once they deteriorated, forgotten by all but his subconscious. He just liked the feel of having a purpose, of having a set destination in mind for once, so he planned his route vaguely with plenty of wiggle-room. Sometimes, that was nice. Other times though, it was the most freaking annoying thing in the history of Ever.

Jack groaned as another maniac trail of slurred weather-speech fell from his lips without his consent, bringing his head down on the desk and yelling in pain when he used enough force to bruise. "Ow," he moaned, sitting up and putting a hand to his forehead as an instant icepack, even though the word 'icepack' had no meaning to him, since he was the same frozen temperature as one. "Okay, the sooner I get done planning, the sooner I can get out of this hell-hole!" He took another look at the map and yelled in frustration again, gripping his hair tightly in his fists and pulling, making grotesque faces simultaneously. "GOD DAMMIT! Did it have to be every goddamn city and town? Even I don't know that!" Which was why he used a map of countries and states, so he could stake out general areas and let the dumb weathermen do the rest. It wasn't as if he'd give one town six feet of snow and leave another barely a mile over with barely a dusting! He was more responsible than that!