She never listened to the stars. Of course, this always made the stars angry. Their song was never far from the girl's mind, but she never cared enough to listen to the underlying feeling of the songs or even the words. Believing that she didn't need the help of inanimate objects, she continued to walk each night, alone and somewhat disgruntled. Her grandfather never spent these nights with her, preferring instead to keep to his study to develop new toy ideas for the children of the world. It was a constant disagreement with them. When she returned from her walk they would always share a bottle of warm milk with several shots of vodka mixed in and several chocolate chip cookies while discussing what she had seen and heard on her walks. Often this would lead to heated arguments over about whether she was old enough to even be walking around outside, let alone if she was old enough to be drinking the vodka.
It was cold. She didn't feel it though, she never felt it. That was the best part about being raised within the Arctic Circle, after a while a sweater was more than enough for any kind of cold weather, though she always thought that it might have something to do with her family. The snow beneath her feet crunched satisfyingly as she prowled uneasily through an unlit alley that connected to one of the more familiar streets. She walked down to a dark park with the moon was shining above her, round and bright in its full glory. She ignored it, as she ignored the stars; the only difference was that even though she knew and respected the moon it never seemed to talk to her. A breeze ruffled the light cotton shirt and skirt she was wearing, lifting them teasingly into the sky ahead of her.
When the breeze subsided the clothing fell against her curved frame, hiding the ivory skin beneath folds of red and orange. Against her skin shone tattoos of grey, white and black, each had been etched onto her skin with the gentlest care and utmost attention. The tattoos swirled around her body, twisting up and down her limbs; each tattoo was unique in its intricate pattern while blending effortlessly with the others. The girl sighed heavily, and several grey tattoos began to glow as the girl's clothing thickened in an attempt to stop the thin from floating away.
Lifting her head she whispered, "Where are you tonight Manny?" The girl's words carried the slightest trace of a Russian accent. She always blamed her grandfather and his thick accent, after all the man had been born and raised in Russia centuries ago.
As usual the girl received no response form the ever staring moon. A frown slid across her features as the empty alley echoed with silence. As she emerged, she spotted a child and a teen walking towards her, their hushed conversation barely audible on the winter wind. The young boy was no more than ten years old, his face was lit up with excitement and curiosity. The girl smiled fondly remembering her own childhood and the memories she had made with her grandfather. The boy's brown eyes floated past her, not seeing her even though she was mere feet from him. The teenager noticed her instantly, his light cerulean blue eyes found hers as soon as she set eyes on him, the look made her frown. It was if he could actually see her walking towards him, but that was impossible. No one could see her. She was invisible to everyone but the Guardians and other Fae.
Her gaze slid from the teenager's to the moon which still shone brilliantly in the middle of the inky sky. "What are you doing to me Manny?" She demanded, her voice rising a little in loneliness.
"Jamie, who is that?" The girl's eyes snapped towards the teenaged boy in astonishment as he jumped towards her, carried by a gentle winter wind. "Who are you?" He asked the girl his eyes wide and startlingly friendly.
"There's no one there Jack." The boy said his eyes hovering briefly over where the girl stood, his voice carrying a faint note of uneasiness.
"You can't see her?"
A slow, mournful smile crept across the girls face as she replied, "Of course he can't. I have no legends told about me, I am nobody." She didn't expect the teen to answer but he did.
"Belief doesn't always come from legends and stories." His voice was full of sadness, and the girl thought she caught a glimpse of sympathy in his eyes. It was something she didn't want. Not now. Not after centuries of waiting.
"I'm sorry, but where belief comes from is not a subject I'd expect someone like you to be well educated about." Her reply visibly hurt the blue eyed teen and she could see his eyes widen in unexpected surprise.
"How would you know who I am?" He glared at her as a fierce winter wind ruffled his shaggy white hair across his face. He pulled himself to his full height, which was a good three or four inches taller than her, and crossed his arms. He was thin, but not lanky, somewhere between what the girl would have called lean and toothpick. The teen's navy blue hoodie was covered in ice around the hood and his neck, and even around the pouch that rested above his stomach. His tan breeches only travelled to the middle of his calves, with a light brown cord winding from his knee to the bottom of the pants, which were fraying at the hem.
The girl's top lip peeled away in a sneer to show off an impressive set of white teeth. Raising her eyebrows she said, "If the appearance wasn't a dead giveaway seeing your staff," The girl nodded towards the boy's left hand where a staff, similar to that of a shepherd was clutched, "Told me. It's a pleasure to finally meet you Jack Frost."
Jack Frost's black eyebrows knitted together over his eyes in confusion and he demanded "How do you know who I am?" His eyes scanning her face for some hint of identity.
The girl lowered her left eyebrow while her eyes silently questioned his intelligence. When he looked at her he could almost see someone else standing behind her watching over her with dark anger and hatred. Jack's eyes travelled over the girl in open curiosity. She had long black hair that fell to just below the middle of her back in thick waves. Her nose was neither small nor overly large, it was just there to keep the face together. Her lips were the same, they weren't too thin or too pouty, instead they were somewhere in the middle, letting the more attractive features of her face stand out more. Her jaw curved down into her chin in two graceful curves that remind Jack of someone he had seen before, he couldn't call a face or even a name to mind though and instead his eyes travelled up to her eyes. Her eyes were a startling pale grey, which seemed to turn to silver in the moonlight.
"Jack?" Jamie's voice interrupted his studying of the girl bringing him back to reality.
As Jack turned to look at the boy he could feel the girl brush past him on the left, leaving him staring after her in curiosity. He could feel disappointment well up in his chest and pull his eyebrows together over his eyes in confusion for only a moment. Jamie must have seen the look because he turned to look at the place where the girl stood. "Were you really talking to someone?"
"Yes Jamie," Jack whispered, his blue eyes narrowing in thought as he watched the girl, who was now a shadow, disappear into the night. "I think she's like me. A Guardian."
"But why didn't I see her?" Big brown eyes stared up at Jack for a brief moment before realization dawned upon the boy. "She… No one knows about her… She's just like how you used to be."
Jack grimaced, the memories of previous lonely centuries made him cringe inside. "Yes Jamie." Jack tussled the boy's hair with a small grin. "She's just like me."
"Do you want to go talk to her?"
"Nah." Jack smiled down at the boy his eyes bright with friendship. "I'll talk to her later."
"What if you never see her again?"
"She's a Guardian Jamie." Jack smiled as he and the boy began to walk again. "I know I'll see her again."
The girl wasn't sure what to make of Jack Frost, his companion and the fact that he kept calling her a Guardian. She had always known that one day she would meet the newest Guardian, after all her grandfather had always promised to introduce the two of them, but she had never quite pictured meeting him in a middle of nowhere town with a boy no less. She decided to ignore the strange moment for now, and focused on the night around her. The moon was beginning to slide down the night sky, and the stars were shifting ever so slightly in their nightly cycle.
"Ah Manny, what a night this has been." The girl's breath slipped from her lips in a stream of warm mist. "I wonder whether you have noticed us up on your moon." Sighing the girl continued to walk through the lonely city, wondering if her feet might lead to more excitement. She doubted it; however, she had not expected to meet Jack Frost, so maybe the Man in the Moon would let her road join with another's.
After several hours of wandering around the town, the girl decided it was time to go home. Sighing, the girl grabbed a discarded tree branch from a nearby by snow bank and with a slow breath lit the end of the branch with a single flame of orange fire coaxed into life on her right index fingertip. As the branch burned she placed the burning tip down into the snow and drew a simple circle. When the flame fizzled out of existence, the girl threw it away and stepped into the circle. Her eyes closed and she drew in a soft breath. An image appeared behind her eyelids, the last memory she had of home, the tiny cabin nestled deep into the shelves of the Arctic ice, her grandfather's workroom. A flash of soft yellow light enfolded her and she was gone.
When she reappeared, it was next to her grandfather who was, as usual, laboring away over his workbench, crafting another toy. The wood seemed to bend in the man's hands as if it were a living thing that could pick up the giant's thoughts. He smiled and hummed as he worked with the wood, caressing it into the shape he wanted while allowing it some room to breathe. The girl always marvelled at the skill her grandfather showed, and if she ever stopped to think she might actually have been able to admit that yes, she was jealous of his confidence in his power.
"Grandfather, I have returned." The girl's voice sounded loud in the small workshop and for a moment she worried that she may have broken the man's concentration.
"Aye, I noticed." The man's thick Russian accent, and his warm smile made the girl relax.
"How was your evening?" Her fingers began working over a small notch in the workbench, she had accidentally put it there years ago when she had thrown a tray at a Yeti, the Yeti had ducked and instead of hitting it in the head she had hit the table scarring it forever. It had taken several weeks and several batches of cookies to make her grandfather forgive her.
The man shook his head and with a scowl stated, "Not as productive as I would have liked. How was yours?"
"Uninteresting as usual."
"Tell me about it."
"Maybe later old man," The endearment made the man snort and mutter under his breath. "I'm tired at the moment." Kissing the man's bushy right check she whispered a quick good-night before slipping from the room, silent as a shadow. The man hesitated for a moment, letting his love for the girl sweep through him before turning to the open window.
"You really should be telling her soon you know. She can only wait so long." A single moonbeam shone through the open window as the man turned back to his work his mind already beginning to forget the girl's strange behaviour. After all, she had said nothing exciting had happened, and nothing exciting was going to happen, not for a long time.