The only sound in the near-black London air drifted through the window of the attic workshop. Tinkering, the subtle clank of metal, echoed throughout the room. A wrench tightening that screw, the creak of gears yearning to be set into motion, and the symphony of creation emitting from the work of one young man, bent over his workspace. Around the room stacked various part of metal, shelves of prototypes and abandoned projects. A single, dull electric lamp sat on one shelf, propping up a leaning stack of aging workbooks and yellowed papers marked with ink. Springs littered empty spaces around the room, and rusted cogs piled in the corners, forgotten for the moment. The shadows cast upon them wavered in the firelight of the blowtorch welding away at the workbench. Motor oil stained the floor, trailing up the bronze plating of the machine. It smoked, sending an acrid scent into the air, steaming off of the creator's arms.

He bent over his work, the blasting firelight reflecting off of his goggles. The flames welded together the wires, the delicate details forming together into one piece of invention. A bronze staff, like a shepherd's crook, open near the curve at the top, rested on the workbench. The creator burnt into a large tank hung from the staff, wrapped around the cylinder like a coiled battery pack, filled with nothing but gears and steam.

The fire flickered off at once.

Letting a long sigh escape his throat, the young man leaned back, pushing up his goggles. From underneath his stark white bangs, blue eyes glittered triumphantly. Black dust lingered on his skin, soot and motor oil staining his face. But the familiar dirt didn't deter the grin stretched across his face. Instead, the scent of molten metal and heated fuel filled his mind, clearing his mind to the task before him.

A pale arm, streaked with oil, wiped across his forehead, and he set the blowtorch down on the workbench. He stretched, groaning as he leaned back in his chair. His back cracked lightly beneath his large work overalls, the brown cloth stained with grease.

"Yes!" he cried, as he flung his hands back, letting his body fly into abandon.

Suddenly the chair tilted back, and the young man's eyes snapped open in panic. He groped at the air around him, to no avail, and the chair crashed back onto the floor as his limbs flailed about.

"Ugh," the man groaned. He picked himself up on one forearm, his other hand going to his head. His goggles jammed into his skin, the edges digging into his forehead.

"Jack?" a muffled voice called from below. Suddenly, a trapdoor opened up in the corner of the room, and a head poked in. "Jack! Are you alright?"

The new arrival climbed up into the attic, scrambling to his feet. He towered in the small workshop, his head nearly brushing the ceiling. His grey hair spiked in the front, and a small beard dusted his jawline. Emerald green eyes gazed down at the younger man, concern shining in the dim light.

"Aster!" Jack exclaimed. "I'm alright, I just fell. Help me up."

Without any hesitance, the taller man reached down to take Jack's arm. He hefted him up to his feet, and reached a hand out to steady him by his shoulders. Jack murmured his thanks softly, brushing off his hopelessly dirtied overalls.

"What're you doing up here so late, Frostbite?" Aster asked, undeterred by the state of Jack's sleepless appearance.

Heavy bags hung underneath the younger man's blue eyes, but they faded with the pure excitement that radiated from Jack's expressions. The boy nearly bounced with joy at Aster's question.

In a rush, as if the words would become rusted if he took another breath, he burst, "I'm almost finished with it! The staff! I've been working all day on it and I couldn't stop, Aster, I couldn't! You won't believe–"

"Woah, mate, slow down," Aster's accented voice cut in, "What are you talking about?"

"The staff for the examination!" Jack retorted, agitated by the interruption. "I've been working on it the entire year, and I'm almost finished!"

"But the exam isn't until May, Jack. We have more than a month!"

"Never hurts to get ahead," Jack cheekily replied. "Want to test it out?"

The suggestion brought Aster pause, and he seemed to wrinkle is nose a bit. Perhaps the dust began to take affect as he thought, but Jack continued undeterred.

He took the taller man's wrist in his own, not taking notice of the way Aster tensed.

"Here," Jack rambled, "I'll show you. You see, this big casket is the main chamber. The gears are just simple clockwork, really, nothing Manny would be too impressed with, but at least they turn, right?" He laughed at his own joke, before looking back at Aster.

The man's eyes seemed distant, his emerald gaze dropped down to his wrist. Jack followed him, noticing his hand around Aster's arm. His pale grip broke from the tan skin like a rusted vice, and Jack shoved his fingers deftly into the deep pockets of his work clothes.

The movement snapped Aster out of it. He blinked, shifting with the shock.

"Uh, right, mate," he cleared his throat, "So… what does it do?"

The thin cylinder rested precariously on the table, dubious in its power, and yet Jack's eyes shown with pride as he looked down on it. The large chamber near the crook hung like a metal sack from the skeleton, the end funneling open in spouts along the crooked arc. It looked like the back of a metal beast, shafts of tubing wrapped except for the large, cumbersome openings.

Jack smirked at Aster's question.

"We're about to find out."

Before leaving the anxious observer with that heartening answer, Jack clarified, "It's supposed to extremely alter temperature, both to hot and cold. The chamber sucks in the air, and then the steam is created by different amounts of friction. That makes the heat. The cold was… harder. I just hope I got it right." Jack gestured to the pronged spouts along the crook of the staff. "This is where the heat comes out, or the cold. It focuses everything into a point." He paused to look up at the man, expecting a criticism of sorts.

Aster nodded methodically. "Alright, so what're we going to do?"

A grin broke across Jack's face. "We," he began, "are going to turn it on."

With those words, he slapped the cover down on the main chamber, and grabbed a crank on its side. A few rounds of it, and it began to rumble lightly. Sparks began to dart across the metal surface, the arcs of electricity lighting up the room. The staff began to vibrate, sending tremors through the workbench. Quickly, Jack hoisted leather straps across the ends of it, securing it to the table.

"Should've thought of that sooner," Jack muttered as he backed up, pulling his goggles over his eyes.

Aster stood, dumbfounded, before Jack grabbed his arm, yanking him back roughly. The older man looked back at him.

"It runs on electricity?"

"Think I've got a better hold on it than that Edison fellow. Not that much better; just a touch."

The rumbling grew louder, but Aster raised his voice and scoffed, "You Americans are so arrogant!"

"I could say the same for you!" Jack nearly shouted, as the roar of the steam chamber began to fill the air.

The workbench clattered, bouncing on the attic floor, no doubt hammering to the inhabitants beneath them. The gears clanged loudly, bouncing securely in their places. A low whine filled the air. Slowly, the whine grew into a shriek, building in a crescendo of electricity in overdrive. Clouds of steam poured from the spouts, and Jack raised his arms to shield himself.

"Watch out!" he shouted, wrenching back Aster's shoulder.

The man turned around just as an explosion burst from the machine. Aster whipped around to shield Jack, his back faced to the blast. Jack's nails dug into his shoulder as a white light filled the entire workshop. It bled into the walls, shining from the window with the power of a sun, and it locked their eyes shut from the force. The temperature dropped rapidly, the chill setting into Jack's fingers, and they began to shiver, releasing slowly from Aster's skin.

Steam billowed throughout the room. As it cleared, Jack and Aster blinked the spots from their eyes. Moonlight filtered through the shuttered windows, the pale beams dancing across the wreckage.

Ice glittered on the far wall. Large chunks of the luminescent crystal jutted out from the surface, like glittering cliffs of diamonds, frozen beyond melting. But even as the light hit it, Jack could see the droplets of heat shifting down the sides.

"That was… unexpected," Aster commented, raising a hand to clutch his neck.

Jack glanced at the man, blue stars still blocking the corners of his vision. Through his impaired sight, he saw the Aster's awed expression, the hint of a smile playing at his lips.

He shifted his gaze away, and admitted, "I guess it still needs some minor adjustments…"

"Is the staff alright?" Aster asked, hesitantly taking a step forward.

The invention remained unharmed, except for a large patch of ice across the edge of the crook. Gingerly, Jack reached out for the clasp locking the casket in place. It felt cold to the touch, freezing in his fingers. The ice crumbled weakly in his grip, tumbling to the floor in small chinks. Locking his jaw firmly, Jack lifted the hatch.

Rolling clouds of steam burst from the container, swelling in size to the ceiling. It spread throughout the room, a chill permeating every crevice. A shiver ran down Jack's spine, connecting to his limbs, as the cloud rushed into his face. The loud wisps of steam roared past his ears, streaking his face red with the cold. Coughing, he fanned the cloud away, the numb burn beginning to itch his skin.

Frost crept across the lone glass lantern, dimming the light in the room like stained glass. The inside of the casket was frozen solid. The gears stuck out from the jagged explosion of ice, their delicate teeth chipping from the cold. The wires were snapped in two from the flash freeze, the loose copper ends suspended in the solid mass.

Jack gave a weak grin. "I... I think it'll still work," he muttered, hesitantly reaching a hand out to the container.

Aster's grip clamped down on his arm before he brushed the ice. "You've got some dry burns on your skin, mate."

Jack followed his concerned gaze to his arm. Red welts stood out on his pale grease-stained skin, blaringly bright even in the dim lighting.

"What about you?" Jack countered, peering at Aster's shoulders.

The man shrugged away before Jack could get a good look. He stretched the motion off, yawning, "Don't worry about me, Frost. God, I'm tired, we should get some sleep."

The younger man raised his released wrist to his chest, clutching it gently. "But, my staff–"

"We can deal with it tomorrow," Aster refuted. "The Spring Ball is tonight, and you need to get some rest or Manny'll lose his head."

"Tonight? What time is it?"

"It's nearly six in the morning, you gumby."

"Oh…" Jack murmured. His grip tightened as he looked back at the staff. "I guess… I could let it thaw for today…"

"Damn right you can," Aster muttered under his breath.

The taller man stalked over to the trapdoor that led down from the attic. The door was frozen lightly on the latch, but Aster only scoffed before kicking it. A loud crack rang through the workshop, echoing with the tinkles of broken ice as they skid across the floor. Mumbling vague obscenities beneath his breath, the man reached down to pull the door open. He began his descent, and then looked up at Jack, who stood still next to his invention.

"You coming, mate?"

Jack stole one last glance at his frozen creation, glittering lowly in the webbed light of the lamp.

"Yeah, I'm coming."

He reached over to the shelf to switch off the electric light, shivering at the cold settling up his arm. Then he made his way to the door, climbing down the steep ladder to the floor below.

Aster sent the rungs back up into the ceiling, the string cord dangling haphazardly in the dark hallway. Neither of them bothered to turn on a light, knowing the building well enough to navigate.

"Good thing we sleep on the top floor, eh mate?" Aster asked, green eyes glittering in the near darkness.

Jack didn't respond, staring quietly down at the ground.

"Jack? You alright?" Aster inquired, placing a hand on Jack's shoulder.

"What?" the man jumped at the contact. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine."

Another moment of quiet passed between them as they made their way down the hall. Jack could feel Aster's inquisitive gaze on him, but turned his face away. The raw skin on his arm began to itch, so he clutched it tighter to his side, rubbing it gently.

In the silence, Aster voiced, "Does it hurt? The ice?"

"Not too bad," Jack answered quietly. He looked over at Aster's dim silhouette. "You took most of the blow for me."

A huff of laughter escaped Aster throat. Jack let his gaze follow it, imagining the puff of air like a warm trail in the darkness, colored the dull red of heat.

"Nothing I can't handle," the man remarked. Another moment passed, and Jack swore he could here the gears turning in Aster's mind. He wanted to reach in there like the casket of his staff, try to see how the man thought. Four years, and still Aster's silences left him confused. Finally, the man continued, hesitantly, "Do you think it'll work again?"

Jack almost had to smile, and he replied, "It'll be fine. It faced even worse when I was trying to alter the heat."

Another laugh left Aster's lips. "It really is amazing, Jack. What do you plan on doing with it?"

"I'm not entirely sure," the younger man murmured. "I can't really see it of any use on a large scale. I doubt I'd make another – it's really just for show."

"Figures," Aster scoffed, "You Americans never think ahead."

Jack shot a glare at Aster. "That's two jabs in one night," he pointed out, teasing a little. "What about you, then? What are you planning for the examination?"

That stopped Aster. The man continued in quiet once again, and they both stalked down the dark hallway.

"I don't have a clue," Aster suddenly stated, his voice cutting the sentence short in a blunt answer. "I've got the ideas, but when I try… I don't think I'm really cut out for clockwork."

The last words resounded throughout the hallway, fading into everything. The self-doubt seemed to shake the entire building, Manny's guild sensing the betrayal in those words.

"You know," Jack began, looking around himself in the darkness, "You could always change your major." The exhaustion from the night's work was beginning to tug on his eyes. He rubbed at them methodically.

"Again?" Aster reiterated. "I've barely gone the entire semester! First I tried music, then acting – that was a bloody train wreck – I thought I could do something with my hands… Let's face it, Manny's this close to chucking me out of here."

"What about that easel you keep in the dorm?" Jack asked. Yes, he really did feel tired, and his feet began to tread on the carpet, leaving oily footprints in the dark to join the countless stains that shown in the daylight.

Aster shrugged, his arm brushing up against Jack's. At some point, he's trailed closer in the black. "Painting's just a hobby. I'm not really good at it."

"Don't say that," Jack began. Suddenly, a yawn built up in his throat, and he stretched. His fist bumped against Aster's face, and he flinched away. "Sorry," he apologized, and then continued, "You're really good, Aster. I've seen your paintings."

The man chuckled. "Thanks mate, but I'm not too sure."

"Well I'm sure you'll figure it out," Jack stated. He blinked once, slowly, before his deadweight feet finally stumbled.

Aster yelped as the boy fell against him, but he caught Jack and righted him back on his feet.

"Christ, Jack, how're you going to dance tonight?"

"I wasn't exactly planning on it."

The ball was magnificent. Golden streamers hung from the banisters, draped between the towering pillars of the ballroom. Metal struts, steel, arched into a towering skylight, pouring the late sunset into the room. Among the warm red and orange hues, bright blue streamers poured from the ceiling. They burst into flame as they fell, disappearing in a flash, like a snowfall of fireworks. No doubt the work of Jack, but the decorations were nothing unique for an apprentice of the distinguished Man in the Moon Guild.

Flowers transformed into being around the room, blooming vines crawling up the pillars and across the banners. The bright buds exploded with color, lighting up the hall with enlarged asters and roses blossoming across the brick and stone workings of the building. The architecture was another creation by a design major, another of Manny's students. Statues set about the room displayed the artistic talent of another apprentice.

Said apprentices milled about the edges of the ballroom dance floor, interacting mildly with the guests. Most of the around twenty college students felt a sheer fear of human interaction.

This emotion was lost on Jack Frost.

As the many guests filtered into the hall, he greeted each of them, bowing politely in his tailored suit. The dark blue fabric complemented his eyes, captivating his temporary audience in their icy depths. His gloved fingers delicately held the ladies' as he kissed the back of their hands gently, and they firmly shook the grips of the gentlemen.

Just as he released the hand of a mildly surprised woman, the wife of a highly esteemed investor, he heard Aster's voice behind his shoulder.

"A little sociable tonight, mate?" the Australian accent breathed gently past his ear.

A grin broke across Jack's face, his vision taken by the fluttering of the woman's deep purple dress as she spun away, disappearing into the growing crowd. He turned around to face his friend. Aster wore a black suit jacket, his white gloves spotless and his green bowtie resting beneath his collar. His usually unkempt hair was brushed, his beard trimmed slightly. His green eyes gazed amusedly down at Jack, who only smiled larger.

"Why shouldn't I be?" he asked in a mockingly informative tone, "We're supposed to be impressing the guests."

Aster scoffed, "Tell that to Auguste over there. Bloke's tripping over his own feet trying to show off his sculpture."

A chuckle escaped Jack's throat. "It's a good sculpture," he defended, looking at the large statue. It depicted a man, his elbow to his knee, lost in thought. "The Thinker," Jack mused, "Creative title."

"Not as creative as your snow," Aster remarked.

They both looked up at the ceiling, at the blue streamers flashing into light as they burnt in the air. The paper disappeared nearly immediately, leaving behind no trace of ash.

"How'd you make it anyway?"

"Nitrocellulose film," Jack commented plainly. His eyes shone with a hint of pride, and he couldn't help the swelling in his chest as he looked at the miniature fireworks. "There's not a lot, so it'll all probably run out before Manny makes his speech."

"And you decided to go into clockwork," Aster bantered.

Jack laughed, "It's more fun! And there are still some chemicals involved… What about you? You're flowers are amazing, Aster. How'd you get them to grow so big?"

Aster shrugged the complement off. "That's just how they are; nothing special."

"I'm being serious. Why don't you go into botany?"

"The flower's are just a hobby, mate. Can't make a living off of growing plants," Aster replied.

"You can if you're good enough," Jack replied. A movement from across the room caught his eye. "Oh, look, Elizabeth is going up to start the orchestra. You'd be good at that."

Aster eyed the boy suspiciously. "Good at what?"

"Music," Jack said smartly.

"Mate, have you gone mad? You know I'm rubbish at music! I can't even dance!" Aster exclaimed.

"Are you sure, Cottontail?"

Across the sea of people, the young woman, Elizabeth, walked up onto the elevated platform, addressing her small orchestra. Her white dress sparkled over the crowd, her blonde hair falling in curling locks down her back. Giving a quick, cold look over her shoulder, she raised her conductor's baton, and swiped it down.

The music started up abruptly, he jovial tune filling up the ballroom. Immediately, the guests took up the waltz, ignoring all formalities as they converged on the dance floor.

"Always so quick, that girl," Aster remarked, folding his arms across his chest.

Jack smiled, imitating his friend. He leaned back on his heels with his own arms folded. "She's good," he said.

His eyes flicked up to Aster. The tall man nodded his head to the gentle rhythm, his scruff across his chin accenting his appreciative frown.

He opened his mouth to comment, "She composed this herself, ri–?"

"Would you like to dance?"

His blazing green gaze froze as he snapped his head over to Jack. But the white-haired man wasn't looking at him, nor was he the one who spoke.

The young woman wore black, as if in mourning. The simple yet elegant dress covered her entire body, except for a small sliver of pale skin beneath the collar wrapped around her neck. From her broad-rimmed hat draped a black lace veil that obscured her face. Her eyes glittered just barely through the cloth, and her timidly sly smile peaked out from behind the fan she conveniently held to her chin.

"Surprised?" she asked, hiding her smirk behind her fan.

"Seraphina!" Jack exclaimed, immediately bowing.

Aster followed suit, obviously stunned. He kept his eyes locked on the woman as he crossed his gloved hand across his chest and tilted forward only slightly.

Seraphina seemed to accept the caution, and turned back to Jack. "Would you like to dance?" she repeated, holding out a black-gloved hand.

Aster scoffed, "Isn't it the gentleman's job to ask?"

"I would love to," Jack said suddenly, cutting Aster off. He shot a glare at his friend, accepting Serpahina's hand.

"Excellent," she quipped, snapping her fan shut.

Ignoring Aster's gaze boring into the back of his head, Jack led Seraphina out into the center of the ballroom. He could feel the tension radiating off his friend's body, the trembling in his shoulders as he passed.

As they made their way to the floor, the song slowed down, the violins taking over the elegant melody. Seraphina took Jack's hand, bringing it to her waist, while she settled on his shoulder. Slowly, they began to sway, and then they began to move.

Jack spoke first. "You're back from America so soon. How was it?"

"It was… interesting. It's nice to see the international frontier from time to time," she replied, taking an airy breath in her step.

"But why are you here?" Jack protested. He lowered his voice, and leaned in closer. "Does it have to do with… Manny?"

Seraphina sighed dolefully, "When does it ever not have to do with Manny?"

"When the world comes to an end, maybe."

The woman's grip stiffened on Jack shoulder. A sharp intake a breath drew in her stomach, and she looked down.

"Look around you Jack," she commanded. "This building, this party – the dresses the woman wear are so different from less than a century ago. The jacket on your shoulders was not heard of twenty years before now. And in twenty years more, there will be something more, something new. We are living in a life of progress, of change."

She pulled herself closer to Jack, her body pressed flush against his for a fleeting moment, as she murmured in his ear, "This era is coming to an end, Jack. It is necessary we take… precautions."

His blue eyes flickered, darting across the room. That red dress, like a fire, and that blue one, as soft as snow, the music filling the air, it all faded to background. The details she spoke of to him were lost to his vision, and he fell back. His breath caught; he fell.

Seraphina seized his arms, lifting him. "I've arranged for you to travel to America," she whispered to him, "You leave in a week, Manny knows of this. Watch out for my father, and please," she paused, standing him up again, "try not to freeze the airship; your display in the attic isn't exactly practical."

"W-what?"

Suddenly, Aster appeared by Jack's side, clearing his throat. His arrival was so abrupt that Jack nearly crashed into his chest.

"If you don't mind," the Australian said, "I would like a dance with Jack."

Seraphina smirked, nodding ever so slightly.

"Very well. But try not to step on each other's feet. I'm impressed," she mused, looking between them, "you've definitely become a better man for Jack since the last time we met."

"Oi!" Aster exclaimed, heat radiating from his face. His hands were sweaty, clutching onto Jack's arms. "Get out of here, you drongo!"

"Now Aster," Seraphina teased, "is that any way to treat a lady?"

And with that, she disappeared into the crowd.

Aster huffed, automatically pulling Jack into position. He rested his hand on Jack's waist, gently, but protectively. Jack looked up at him, placing his own hand on Aster's shoulder.

"Are you alright, mate?" Aster asked as they began to move. "You look like you've seen a ghost. A real one, I mean, not just Sera."

"I'm… fine," Jack said, stepping in with Aster's odd gait.

"What did she want anyway?" Aster continued, looking over Jack's head as he scanned the room.

"I'm not really sure," Jack answered, "Something about her father, and Manny."

"When is it ever not about Manny?"

At that Jack smiled. Then a thought occurred to him. "How would you like to travel to America with me?"

Aster's foot crushed Jack's toes beneath his heel.