Jack awoke frightened, gasping and panting for breath as the last nightmare faded. Moaning, he rubbed his eyes, blinking at the subtle traces of black grit on his fingers. Nightmare sand, obviously. Jack had heard of it, but never before seen it in use. Or felt it, rather, and what he wouldn't give to never ever feel it again, the terror still heavy in his chest.
Sitting up and throwing back the covers, Jack took in the room at a glance before he strode to the window, the cold stone floors not bothering his bare feet in the slightest. Gazing through the large portal, he quickly noted that without his staff, there was no way to descend without causing very permanent, likely fatal damage. Of course, Pitch was nowhere near stupid enough to leave Jack armed, which was obvious by the faint itching sensation he experienced whenever the staff was too far away from himself for comfort. Not that Pitch cared about his comfort. The new clothes certainly reflected that, Jack thought wryly; and rather perturbed that he'd been re-dressed in his sleep. The new outfit was pure white; loose-flowing harem-style pants that were more cumbersome than comfortable, and a thin white shirt of the same clingy, swishy fabric with far too long sleeves that dangled over his fingertips, forcing him to push them up every few seconds. Both items bore delicate embroidery in gold threads along the neckline, cuffs and waistband, and the material itself was obviously high quality, for all its strange texture. All in all it was impractical in the extreme, and probably made him look like some sort of fair maiden.
Well, Jack thought ruefully, he certainly felt like a damsel, locked away in a high tower by a wicked man. Now all he needed was to be beset by a dragon, and a brave prince to ride in for the rescue. Looking out the window again at the jagged cliff face, Jack couldn't help but fight back tears, knowing that there was no prince and no imminent rescue awaiting him.
Jack was on his own; unarmed and in the hands of the enemy. It didn't get much worse than this. It was about then that, without warning, the door swung open.
Stepping into the room was a boy, clad head to do in tight black leather, decorated with silver clasps and buckles, some of which seemed to serve no useful purpose whatsoever, so than to make the outfit more aesthetically pleasing. In his hand, the boy held a staff, with what appeared to be a faintly glowing knife tied to the end of it. The boy looked to be about Jack's age, his white hair caught the light of the sun, which struggled to break through the dark clouds that covered the sky that day. No doubt it was likely to rain. It was shorter on one side, coming to brush the top of his ear, whilst on the other, it fell to mid-neck
Like Jack, he was pale, lithe but small in stature. He was perhaps a little taller. Bright blue eyes (much paler than Jack's own) couldn't help but look the new arrival up and down, before he smiled. He was not a vicious smile, but rather an amused one. The look however, did not last long, before the boy turned, and gestured for Jack to follow him before moving out into the hallway and starting down it with complete confidence.
Jack blinked, slightly stunned. Here he'd been expecting to be locked in with no escape, and no company save the King himself, and now, here he had an escort whose apparent physical similarities could not be ignored. Another winter spirit? He didn't look familiar, but Jack supposed, in a place like this anything was possible
Realizing he was dallying, Jack hurried to catch up, not bothering to shut the door behind him. Surely this castle had servants for that. Also, who cared? He was a prisoner anyways. Well, a prisoner with hallway privileges apparently, but whatever. He wasn't leaving here of his own volition, that was obvious. Ahead of him, Jack watched the slender figure for any hint of purpose, anything that might give away where they were headed and why, but if there was a hint, Jack didn't know enough to catch it. Resigning himself to waltzing straight into the unknown, Jack followed the boy, walking no more than three steps behind the whole way.
The boy did not bother to check whether or not Jack was following, given that he could hear Jack's footsteps as he padded along, barefoot. The leather-clad boy never spoke and never turned to look at Jack. He turned this way and that, apparently choosing the pathways with the most light. The windows were open in the hallways during the day, even if most of the days were filled with grim weather such as this, but not even that was Pitchiner's doing. He did however, have his ways.
However, eventually the Boy had to lead Jack further into the depths of the castle, where windows were sparse and the light even more. It was on those occasions that the light on the end of the boy's staff glowed more brightly. Any hissing from the nearby Fearlings rose for a moment before dying completely as they fled from the light.
When at last the boy came to a stop, it was before a large oaken door, which he opened without fanfare, and gestured for Jack to go inside. The boy did not enter with Jack, but watched from the doorway, his gaze falling on the room ahead. At the far end of the room sat large windows that seemed to span almost the entire length of the room, curtains open, bathing the room in a dim light. The only Fearlings in this room were small and trapped beneath large cabinets that held this or that, hiding from the sun. There was a relatively small Dining table in the centre of the room, but too small to be designed for public affairs. This was a place for more private meals, with one's family, when one was not entertaining diplomats and emissaries. Of course, that was an occurrence that was happening less and less.
The room was empty, but set before one of the chair (one that was not placed at the head of the table), sat a few plates of food. Fruit and bread and even some cold meat, and goblets of wine and water. There was even a small jug of fruit juice. No doubt it was a confusing sight for Jack.
Jack entered the room hesitantly, made even more apprehensive by the fact that his guide did not follow him forward. Cautiously, he approached the table. Jack had lost all track of time since he'd been taken, unsure of how long he'd spent unconscious and trapped, the murky light filtering in through the windows making it difficult to even determine the time of day. If he knew one thing though, Jack knew that it had been long enough that he was hungry. Famished even, truth be told. The colourful array of food spread out like a one-person banquet was incredibly tempting, surprised as he was to see it. It surprised him as much as the room had, as he'd honestly expected to awaken in a cold, dark cell, and be fed gruel for the rest of his days. Assuming he'd awoken at all! But here, there was a feast before him, whether or not Jack could trust it was the only question. He didn't think Pitch would go through all this trouble just to poison him now, but that didn't mean the food might not be otherwise drugged. Faltering at the edge of the table in his wariness, Jack turned to his companion hoping for some answers.
Seeing the confusion on the new arrival's face was understandable in the leather-clad boy's mind. He had heard about the 'battle'. Jack had put up a good show it seemed, but Pitchiner was more or less simply playing with his food by the end of it. Apparently, Kozmotis found Jack's fears rather tasty. Luckily, Jack's escort had very few Nightmares with very few fears to prey upon. Not to mention, he had the light of the moon on his side.
Moving into the room, the pale-skinned boy moved over to Jack and turned to the food, reaching out and tearing bits and pieces from each plate, eating them as he went. When the boy had first arrived at the castle, he had been wary of the food at first as well – of everything. But all of Pitchiner's tormenting always had a point and purpose, but he had made his point to the moon-child long ago. He smiled softly at Jack before reaching for a goblet, and taking a sip, replacing it and reaching for the other one.
From the looks of Jack's outfit, the leather-clad boy could tell what Pitchiner had in store for the other boy...and it made him sad to think about it. He wasn't supposed to talk to Jack, but being in his company was permitted. There was no point in Pitchiner drugging Jack, or harming him any more than necessary. Kozmotis would have his way, whatever happened.
The boy looked at Jack for a moment more, before he pulled out the chair that stood between them and gestured for Jack to sit, before taking a sip from the goblet in his hand and moving over to the large window, watching the grim skies pointedly. He did not want to encourage Jack enough that he might try to start a conversation.
Jack sat himself carefully, still feeling wary of the situation despite the other boy's attempts at reassuring him. He carefully selected a ripe piece of fruit, holding it up under careful scrutiny, before finally taking the plunge and placing it on his tongue. He almost moaned at the rich taste. The Winter Lands of his home, while beautiful, had for obvious reasons not been particularly fertile, and while Jack and his people did not require meals as often as most other races, they did need to eat. Unfortunately, most of the foods available were small game, roots and tubers, and whatever they could coax to grow in special greenhouses. It made for bland, tasteless foods for the most part, and importing fresh foods was difficult at best and practically impossible after Pitch had come to power. This though, this was divine; the scent, the texture, the ripeness of the fruit on his tongue, the juices sliding down his throat. Jack had never tasted the like in his life, and he found himself caving completely to his hunger and falling upon the banquet like a starving creature. Which, possibly he was, having no idea how long it had been since he'd last eaten; his ravenous appetite making itself known for the first time since his capture, now that most of the immediate threats to his safety were no longer present. Assuming, of course, that the boy didn't mean him any harm.
Twisting in his seat to scrutinize the boy, Jack wondered who he was, why he was here. What role did he play here, in the Nightmare Kingdom? Was he friend? Or merely an uninterested foe? Jack figured caution was probably the most prudent option, turning his chair sideways to the table, so he could continue to eat with one hand, while better able to face the boy currently admiring what may have passed as scenery. Although the boy looked for all the world like he was attempting to forget Jack existed, Jack wasn't going to let the opportunity to get some answers pass him by.
"So, you got a name? Or do I need to make one up?"
For a moment, Jack's (for lack of a better word) companion turned to look at him, before turning back to the window, obviously hesitating. He wanted to speak to Jack, but he was not allowed, and more to the point, he was shy. The loneliness that the castle was shrouded in almost suited Jack's escort, had it not been for the fact that he was the rather playful sort. He liked to be in the company of others, and was usually just happy to listen, when he did not feel he had to be a Guardian of sorts. There were few people in this castle worth protecting, simply because they did not need it.
Then, the pale haired boy was struck with an idea, and turned, practically bounding towards Jack with surprising speed, deftly pulling out the chair beside Jack's own and hopping onto it, balancing his weight on his toes. He could not speak to Jack, but that did not mean he could not communicate. He stared at Jack for a moment, before tapping the side of his own head and then pointing at Jack. Guess. The gesture tried to say.
"Um, I'm probably not the best partner for a game of charades..." Jack trailed off under the other boy's enthusiastic gaze. Well, someone was talking to him, err, trying to communicate with him at least. Someone who wasn't the Source of All Known Evil, so really, Jack could at least give it a shot. Not that it would be easy, mind you. This would be a lot more efficient with quill and parchment. Jack wasn't the strongest reader or writer, having been forced to abandon his education early to care for his sister, but even he could likely have muddled through. Cocking his head a bit at the boy in front of him, Jack figured his best bet was to just go with it, After all, the more time he killed now in this room, the less time was sent cooped up alone and waiting for the other shoe to drop. With that thought in his mind, Jack found it a lot easier to smile at his companion.
"Y'know, if you don't at least give me a hint, I'm gonna have to start at the A's and just keep going."
Grinning, the pale boy at his charge's side, raised one finger and then tapped his arm with two. Two syllables. Then, he raised a finger again. First word. It was then of course that he brought to hands together and placed them to the side of his face, tilting it to the side and closing his eyes, making a point to breathe evenly, making slight whistling noises as he did so. After a moment, he looked at Jack almost expectantly; eyes open as he straightened up again.
"Um, Nap time? No wait, that's two words." Jack wracked his brain trying to think of any other options, squinting at the boy pantomiming sleep beside him. "Sleeping? Snoring? Napping? Dreaming? Am I warm at all, or making a fool out of myself?" Jack stopped, backtracked and then huffed a quiet sound that could almost have been a laugh, the corner of his lip creeping up in the frail little mockery of a grin. "Not that I'm ever warm, being a winter child and all..."
The sprite-like boy on the chair beside Jack simply smiled and put a hand over his mouth for a moment before shaking his head at the boy. It was then that the boy stood and moved to place a foot on the dark wooden table, hoisting himself up easily and gesturing to the window and then bringing his index fingers together and moving them to form a circle and then proceeded to dot the space around the imagined circular object quite randomly, and then jumping in place excitedly and pointing to the window again, just as the sun began to peek through the clouds that were gathering in the sky overhead.
But when it disappeared again from sight, the boy stopped jumping, and looked after the sun for a moment, a frown on his face - just for a moment. Then of course, the boy turned back to Jack with a smile and an expectant look on his face, miming the circle with the dots one more time, and then brought his hands together in a sleeping motion one more time, head tilted to the side.
That was his hint.
Jack blinked slowly, staring at the other boy in confusion. "Um, Ok, was that the Moon? Stars? Sky? No wait, two syllables..." Jack sat back in his chair, tapping one long forefinger on his chin, food completely forgotten as he attempted to puzzle through the mystery set before him. "So sleeping, something that looks like a moon or night sky, so night time, but also something bright like the sun, right? So, Moonlight? Stardust? Aurora's too many syllables, and seems kinda girly besides..." Jack grinned a bit as he trailed off, to let the other know he was kidding. "How about... Starshine? Nightlight? Moonbeam?" Please say I'm close; I'm running out of ideas unless you give me another hint!"
As the other boy thought, the sprite-like boy began to smile slowly, resisting the urge to nod along with his charge's direction of thought lest he wind up confusing the pale-haired boy. Jack it seemed was tough but...perhaps a little slow on the uptake and perhaps easily confused, but given that his escort did not yet feel comfortable enough to actually speak to Jack, he did not want to risk finding out at present. He did not of course, think badly of Jack. He didn't want to be mean, after all. Still, the leather-clad boy listened, smiling a little wider when he found the other to be joking. He wasn't the sort to be easily offended and being called a girl wasn't necessarily new. Besides, he was just happy that Jack was beginning to joke with him at all.
Friends are important in dark times, after all.
As suddenly as the word left Jack's lips however, The boy jumped eagerly back into his chair, crouching down and pointing at Jack excitedly and smiling, but it took him a moment to indicate the number two with just as many fingers before returning to pointing, even going to far as to poke Jack on the shoulder insistently. Jack was almost there..!
"Two?" Jack blinked, than frowned a bit in thought. "Two, the second one? You mean, Nightlight?" Jack leaned it a bit closer to his new... well, friend might be a bit too strong of a word for a guy he'd just met, but friendly acquaintance would probably do.
Jack gazed at the other boy, hoping he was right, if only to end the guessing game he was obviously very poor at. "Is that you're name then, Nightlight?"
Nodding, Nightlight hopped off the chair he was crouched on and stood behind Jack's chair, grabbing the white-haired male's head gently but firmly, and turning it towards the food pointedly. Eat, the gesture said. He wasn't really supposed to touch Jack either, but it seemed like the boy needed a firm hand, and given that the walls had both eyes and ears in this place, he would be having words with Kozmotis later, if the other man was bothered enough by the news.
It was then of course that he turned away from Jack and moved back over to his place by the window, determined, this time, not to interact with the other any more than he was truly allowed. He was only supposed to escort the boy around the castle until Jack learnt his way around.
The hands on Jack's head were gentle, yet insistent, so he relented and turned himself toward the task of eating. The bulk of his hunger had already been sated, but Jack found room for a couple more pieces of fruit and another glass of water before decided he was finished. Pushing the plate aside in an obvious gesture of finality, he slouched back, patting his full stomach contentedly.
"So I don't know who does the cooking here, but can I say, well done? I'm gonna go and get fat if this keeps up."
Jack offered his now-silent companion a cheshire grin, hoping the boy was only allowing him space to eat and not ignoring him deliberately. The quiet and stillness of this place was starting to grate at him; he was used to the Winter Forest, where there was always life and movement, whether from the wind in the trees or the rustle of animals in the underbrush. The village, his home, had never been placid at all save for the darkest part of the night; no, there was always commotion and activity as people had went about their daily routines. It was enough to drive a boy a wee bit mad, he figured, and hoped that his current company would be sticking around for a while, at least.
In truth, Nightlight was not long for Jack's company. He was only meant to show Jack the way...for a while. Jack was supposed to learn, according to Kozmotis. Jack wasn't supposed to have company...but knowing he COULD have some was...it was meant to torture Jack. Nightlight didn't like cruelty of any kind, but he had no choice. Not here, not now. Perhaps in time, but not yet.
He felt terribly for Jack, and when he turned to face the similarly pale boy, his smile did not reach his eyes. This was not a good place, and soon, Jack would know that for certain, whether wanted to or not. "I'm sorry." Nightlight couldn't help but blurt out. He didn't know exactly what was to happen to Jack, but dressed as he was, the King could have very few things in mind. As soon as the words left his lips, Nightlight bite his lip and made his way quickly for the door, gesturing for Jack to follow, noticing that Jack had eaten enough. He only wished he could tell him to eat more. He had said a few too many words already.
This wouldn't be the last time he saw Jack, but it would be the last time that day.
He did not pause as he made his way down the hallway. He was not, however, going in the same direction he had come. Jackson Overland Frost was not returning to his designated bedroom. Not yet, at least.