MiM waited, and waited, and waited for the Guardians to heed his demands. He knew that with a bit of foresight to their opponent's ways that they could win without Jack, but he also knew that if the Guardians didn't welcome the winter spirit into the fold soon… Well, to put it simply, they would have another Pitch on their hands. One fueled by confusion, loneliness, and a desperate desire to be seen. It broke the Tsar's heart to see his child so lonely and hurt… He would comfort the eternal child if he could, but sadly his power had been drained greatly from the feat of bringing a dead soul back to life and he could not communicate verbally with anyone for many more centuries to come.
"Jack is not Guardian, Man in Moon, why do you continue to insist? We have taken care of Pitch on our own already!" North's genuine confusion frustrated Lunar to no end, he wanted to scream but knew that he could not, they would be unable to hear him anyway.
Weeks turned into months, and then to years, and finally; Centuries passed, Jack's growing bitterness and desperation overpowering the childlike factors that made him, him. It was with a heavy heart that MiM watched helplessly as one by one the things the Guardians supposedly fought so hard to protect snuffed out of their weak existence within the boy. Manny couldn't help but pray that the Guardians felt the full force of each dying light just as he did. He claimed this boy as his son when he was brought from the dead, he would not forgive the Guardians for their neglect of his child.
:::Wonder:::
It was a cold bleak night when it happened, at exactly six hundred and thirty-two years of age. Jack stood motionless on the ground working the weather as only a seasonal with nothing else they could possibly do could. "I have it down to a science at this point." His tone was bland and rather monotonous, dulled once-blue eyes sparking with an unmistakable flare of disgust as he turned for the first time that night to regard the moon. "-ah." Jack's eyes widened for the briefest of moments, standing as rigid as he can sensibly become as he feels a sudden sharp snap somewhere deep inside him. A hand cold as the ice he commands touches his head in his momentary agony, as though he lost something. The winter spirit felt heavy and vaguely lost at the sensation, though oddly felt no need to address that occurrence with an inquiry he knows full well will go unheard and thusly unanswered.
"Peh- I'm done here, I may as well return to Burgess." Jack takes no time in soaring to the sky, not realising he no longer held any mirth or wonder at things he once found exciting. And the games he played with children who couldn't see him- couldn't hear him couldn't touch him does he really exist?- were suddenly drab and duller than usual.
-Six Weeks After-
His attire was magnificent, stolen as needed and worn with a kleptomaniac's pride; A white silk shirt sparkled under moonlight and sat loose-fitting on his torso, tattered colonial pants finally traded in for black frosted over pants, the spirit wore several layers of light coats that all were colored in a different shade and tone of blue, while around his neck a black scarf coated in frost just the same as the rest of his attire. Jack scowled at the moon with obvious disdain and hatred, a hatred that ran so deep that it ran out all other logic and emotion. "Which will be next? I caught onto what happened; I lost my wonder, though it feels as though I lost nothing at all. I realise it was a burden now, and now I'm curious: will it be hope? dreams? memories? Will I loose myself to grief, will I decide my dreams are worthless of my time, or will I grow so old and lonely I have no need to remember anything save days or a month prior?"
The winter spirit harshly drove his staff into the ground without taking his eyes away from the dimly lit rock in the sky, perching himself atop it and grinning madly. There was a disturbing and disconcerting gleam in his near lifeless ash blue eyes, "I hope it's dreams. I'm tired of waking from a good dream just to see myself brought back to hell... I don't wish for nightmares of course, but dreamless sleep.. No dreams, that I want badly." That said Jack jumped from his perch and grabbed his staff. The grin that had plastered itself to a young pale face had faded, making way for a depressed look pointed at no one in particular. He hovered momentarily before flying off into the night.
::MiM::
A man looked up to for his guidance wept, far from eyes that would seek their source should they see the tears. He wept for a child that never had a future, has no recollection of his past, and has long despised the one who wished to be a father to his creation with all his ancient heart. Tsar Lunar wept and wept and hoped for all it was worth, his child of ice could not be down this road, he refused to allow it, but he wept all the same. He let the salty liquid fall only because he knew the truth. "Oh, Jack. I am so sorry for leaving you on your own." Spoke the man from an age long past.
