Snowflakes And Shadow Crowns

If Only You Could Hear It

"Do you think he'd like some kind of clothing?"

"Chirp."

"Yeah, no. You're right. He wears shadows, of course he doesn't need new clothes...but then again his robes were looking pretty worn out..."

"Chirp chirp?"

"Would he even wear something we got him? Oh...but that is a good point..." Jack groaned, marking out the short lived idea before dropping the pen and rubbing at his eyes. "I don't even know his fashion sense well enough to get him any clothing anyway."

"Chirp..." Baby Tooth was the only other in Jack's quaint attic room. She was perched on his shoulder, looking down at his scribbled out piece of paper.

"I don't know if robes counts as a fashion sense, Baby Tooth. I mean, that would be like saying he'd wear any robe just because it's a robe." Jack, sitting at a small, round table that he had moved in at the start of his Christmas quest, picked up his pen and doodled a tall, thin figure in an elegant gown. "Even something...pink and frilly..." He was trying not to laugh--to stay focused--but it was hard to keep a straight face while imagining Pitch strut around in a princess gown. After a moment, Jack took a deep breath.

"Thanks for understanding this by the way, Baby Tooth, and promising not to tell the others. I know Pitch was a real jerk to you, but...he's changed, for whatever that's worth." With a soft sigh, Jack crumpled up the sheet in front of him and nonchalantly tossed it over his shoulder. It was another paper wad to add to the plethora of other discarded ideas.

In all honesty, Jack was starting to doubt the effectiveness of this plan. It wasn't as though he had time to come up with something else, but he was starting to wonder whether or not he could really pull it off. He never knew getting a christmas gift for someone was so hard...

Crossing his arms, Jack put his head down on the desk, positioning his face to the side so that he could stare out the tall windows where the outside world was dark and obscured by shadow. Polar night had seized the arctic for about three days so far, and so Jack had a small, melted down candle at the very edge of his desk; it was close enough to cast light upon his work, but far enough away so that it wasn't making him anxious.

The golden light flickered, lashing out at the darkened world, struggling to stay alive. The flame's dance only served to thicken the shadows though--not banish them--and it cast fluid images against the walls and reflected in the clear glass. Every now and then the flame would crackle and let out a small whine as though on the verge of being vanquished; it would die down, almost to the point of nonexistence, right before it would spring back to life with sudden, newfound vigour. And, as absolutely absurd as it was, the flame reminded him of himself in a way. Always dying down just to come back, taking on an impossible quest--whether it was defeating shadows or getting the perfect gift--and constantly fighting the darkness yet ultimately being pointless without it.

Because what was the use of a candle in a fully lit room? What was the point of a Guardian with nothing to be wary of?

What was Jack without Pitch?

He'd still be a wandering spirit if not for him. He'd still be alone and afraid, but for all the wrong reasons. It was a little ironic to say that Pitch had helped to ease his fears, but doing so had just replaced them with new ones. Yes, Jack was still terrified, but he was no longer scared of never being seen; he was afraid, now, that he wasn't going to be able to see Pitch again.

Jack had opened one of the windows, the glass tapping slightly against the wall as the restless wind fluttered in, caressing his cheeks as it passed then slipping hurriedly back into the veil of night. Pushing his seat back and standing, baby tooth chirp questioningly and flew from his hood as he approached the opening and placed his hand lightly on the glass then leaned against the frame, breathing deep. He closed his eyes, feeling the crisp coolness play through his hair; the wind whistled, groaning as it reverberated through unseen icy trenches and hollows. The window squeaked softly as it hit against the wall.