The first thing he knows is cold. The harsh, gripping pulse of never-ending exhaustion. It makes him shiver, however cold he is naturally.
It just doesn't happen.
But the first thing he hears is laughter. The MiM did not count as a voice, neither did the wind, and not even his own joyful discovering counted. The rush of ecstasy that he got from making those children laugh was indescribable, so precious and yet so small.
He almost counted himself, but he soon nodded away. He was a monster, just known as a little expression to keep children wearing their scarves and hats.
Jack always took pride in his creations (who do you think made all snowflakes unique?), and yet feared them.
They took lives.
No matter how much he tried to convince himself he wasn't, he was still winter, and his storm could range from innocent to splattered and smeared with blood.
He counted.
10,654 people had lost their lives to him and his monstrous blizzards, not even counting animals and plant life.
It broke his icy heart.
His status as 'Just An Expression' was the weakest of all guardians, and that was why he wasn't deserving of the title.
Jack wished that the guardians would have find out about his... Death.
But we see here that wishes don't always cOmE TRuE
. * * * .
"Dingle, zet the tray azide. Ve von't be needing it soon." said a man in a heavy Russian accent.
The infamous jolly man commanded everything around him, and normally they understood it perfectly. But this one elf was the most annoying brat that he had ever laid his blue eyes on.
Dingle listened perfectly, but when it came to acting...
The little elf stumbled and tripped over seemingly nothing, sending the decorated Christmas tray flying - right onto the head of Toothiana.
"Dingle!" scolded the Russian man, one tattooed arm saying 'Naughty' pointing at the fallen elf.
"It's alright." came the chipper voice of the fairy/hummingbird.
She dusted the faint wood clippings from her feathers, before asking delicately "So, anyways, why are we here?"
"Ah've been asking that for a while, but nobody's answered me!" said a certain pooka.
Sandy said nothing, but his flickering signs made of glimmering golden sand showed that he clearly wanted a word in.
"Am I late to the party?" asked the final guardian, his shepherd's hook being gripped clumsily in his pale hands.
"No. Manny wanted to talk to us."
Seeing some concern from the other guardians he added "Pitch is not back."
"Good. My Baby Teeth are still frightened, and some have even takn complete days off because of panic attacks!"
. * * * .
Continue next time...