Above him was the sky, sapphire colored with little diamonds smattered across. The moon was the crown jewel of the sky, glowing and white.
Under him was the faintly shimmering snow, soft and cold, just the way he liked it. He lay in the impression of a snow angel.
In perfect view, on a cliff above his resting place, was a snow queen, lovely and perfect, pink-tinged cheeks and nose, pale hair not unlike his streaming loose in the wind, icy blue eyes sparkling. She was cold and warm all at once. She was beautiful, and fascinating.
Jack Frost was utterly captivated.
He gazed up at her. She was oblivious to his gaze, oblivious to the world. She was dancing, twirling in the wind, her long pale hair whipping about her lovely face. Little flurries of snow whirled around her, and snowflakes formed shapes and pictures in the air. She threw out a hand, and a puff of glittery ice and snow burst forth.
Who is she? Jack Frost asked himself.
He'd never met anyone like him. No one who loved and thrived in the cold like him, who mastered the ice and snow like him. Jack Frost could fall asleep under a blanket of snow and wake up happy. If anyone else did so, they would not wake up at all.
Yet, this icy maiden clearly thrived in the snow.
She was dressed in only a thin gown. She wore no gloves or hat or anything to warm her, not even boots. In fact, she was barefooted. Who was this lady? He wondered. How could she be like him?
He stood up slowly, careful not to ruin his snow angel. He continued to gaze up at her.
Who are you?
As if she heard his thought, the snow queen whirled around and looked directly at him. Her icy eyes flashed, and she immediately looked guarded. The carefree, liberated expression was gone.
"Who are you?" She called. The wind whipped her hair into her face.
He looked down. "Jack Frost."
She said nothing, and he looked up at her.
"Who are you?" He asked cautiously. "How are you like me?"
Her eyes flashed again. "Like you?"
Jack extended his hand with the staff, and a snowman formed itself beside him.
"Like me."
Her guardedness melted away, and she looked hopeful, and curious. She waved her hand and a glass- no, ice, he realized- staircase formed. She descended it slowly, gracefully, looking every bit a queen. When she came to stand in front of him, he knew not what to say.
"I'm Elsa," she said.
He still did not know what to say, so he just stood there, and looked at her. Up close, she was even more captivating. He saw her hair was not white like his, but a very pale gold, almost white. Little freckles smattered across her dainty nose.
She gestured to his staff. "May I?"
He handed it to her wordlessly. He couldn't stop gazing at her face. Cold and warm at the same time.
A look of curiosity and wonder showed on her face as she examined his staff, pale hands running over the smooth cold wood. She looked up at him. "Where did you get this?" Her face was alight. "It's beautiful."
"I've always had it," Jack said.
"Where did you come from?"
Jack looked around them. "I came from nowhere," he responded. "I'm everywhere. I'm in the wind and the snow. I come from all that surrounds us."
Elsa blinked. "But surely, you have a home. And a family."
"I don't."
Elsa looked sad. "Once, I thought the same thing," said she. "I thought I had no family, that I was alone in the world. I was wrong." She peeked up at him through delicate lashes. "You're not alone, either."
"Not anymore," Jack agreed. Elsa was like him. She had powers like him, she enjoyed the cold like him. He felt as though he would never be lonely again.
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