Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or realities (unless otherwise stated). I do not make money off of this.
The prompt for this came from an anonymous rotg-kink dreamwidth post.
This is not betaed. If you see any mistakes, I would love for you to kindly point them out.
When he woke up, he remembered nothing. He saw nothing. He heard nothing. He felt nothing. And then the cold burst in. And the dark. And the harsh pang of loneliness and a new sting of hope. What if I'm dead drifted across his mind as if somebody else thought it and he immediately questioned it. Why would he be dead?
And then he opened his eyes. There was ice above him, transparent enough to see the bright moon above. And the darkness went away, as if somebody started cleaning a filthy window. As he neared the ice, another thought came from the other-him. How would he break through the ice? but it was fainter, much fainter. He attempted to hold onto the other-him but he slipped away like a fish.
Should he have been scared? Was the dark supposed to be scary? Maybe. He didn't know. He didn't know anything. He didn't know his name, didn't know his past, where he was, why he was there. And he looked up at the moon and it felt like he knew all of a sudden. And then all that information was gone, and he grasped at everything that was thrown at him and the only thing that stopped, turned around and curled around his mind was Jack Frost.
Was that his name? Was that supposed to mean something to him? Was that his family? Nobody answered. He shrugged, sat down on the ice (only vaguely realizing that it didn't feel as cold - as it should have felt?) and decided to take the name as his own. It felt like putting on a sweater, only a badly knit one. It felt scratchy, but it fit. It was like it was his name, but it wasn't at the same time.
If this was his name, why did it feel like this? Like it didn't fit?
Leaning back, looking at the stars almost drowned out by the light of the moon, he touched something, and, jerking his hand away and looking over to see what it was. It was a shepherd's staff, his other-him whispered, almost drowned out by the thoughts about his name. Touching it again, he (Jack?) noticed that it frosted over. Picking it up did nothing else to it, but tapping the staff to the ground and other objects frosted them over.
The last thought that Jack heard from other-him was I like autumn better. Better weather to play in… even if there was more work…
It only took a few people to walk through him for Jack to realize that he wasn't human anymore. Then what am I? came the question, and no matter how hard he thought, nothing came up. The wind curled around him softly, and Jack raked his mind for any information for what he could be. There was a sliver of a thought clinging to his mind, like the other-him's memories were erased from his mind. Angels live in heaven, where everything is good and happy and souls are rewarded for their good deeds, while demons live in hell. Hell is where souls are punished for their terrible actions.
That's it. I'm a demon.