The boy shows up again the next day as usual, and Aster isn't sure whether he's impressed or mystified. Truth be told, with every moment they spend together Aster is starting to see that the kid has layers. Layers upon layers upon layers; like sedimentary rocks. Aster can't help but wonder at how much friction it will take until he can wear away enough to see exactly what Jack Frost is made of. It's a curious sensation, this desire for knowledge, for knowing, but Aster was a scholar before he'd even been anything else, and while that life is far behind him the past has hooks that dig deep and never quite let go.
So Aster wonders and he ponders, and he watches the boy surreptitiously from the corner of his eye as they work. The boy is tense, taut, holding himself like he's bound by invisible wires. It's nothing like the way he normally moves; loose and easy with the casual confidence of someone who knows where all their limbs are and exactly how each one moves. The suspicious creeps into Aster's skull, multiplied by the quietly uttered oath Jack lets slip when his frost sneaks away from him to coat a small patch of damp earth. It's not enough to do damage, not near enough, but the boy's face shutters even further, lips pinched so tight they're white and bloodless. He's holding back, Aster realizes, but it should not be that difficult, that painful to do so. It wasn't before; Aster recalls their handful of meetings prior to Jack's Guardianship rather clearly. The boy had always appeared carefree, no, almost careless, yet always, always in control. Now though, the boy struggles against himself, fighting hard and losing ground, his own physical exhaustion the only thing allowing his iron will to win. It wasn't right, wasn't the natural way of things, and the more time that Jack spent here with Aster and not out working with his new power, the longer he'd go on fighting and struggling. The fact that he didn't appear to be worried about his believers troubles Aster too. Perhaps it was different for Jack, who'd gone without for so long and was so powerful even alone, but the Oath's required their dues and the sooner he got himself more exposure, the better off he'd be.
Making a decision, Aster nods to himself, sharply. Standing suddenly, he claps his hands onto his thighs to scrub the mud from his fingers, not particularly caring is the motion smears it into the fur on his legs. He plods over to Jack, who's either deliberately ignoring his approach or is so absorbed in his reigning in his magic that he honestly didn't notice. Aster already had his bet placed on which one it was, too.
"Think that's enough of that for today, yeah?" Aster's voice wasn't particularly loud, even in the silence. That didn't stop it from startling the boy so badly that his ice spun out of control, coating a good patch of the ground in a fine layer of trailing frost, right up to Aster's toes and curling around Jack's knees. The boy cursed loudly and harshly, eyes darting wildly up to meet Aster's, the panic evident. Well, Aster was right, it was the latter. Too bad he couldn't owe himself money. The boy was obviously keyed right up, probably ready to do something ridiculous like apologize or defend himself. Aster hated apologies, they were a waste of time and useless to boot, as so few people seldom meant them. Nor did Aster want to watch the boy fly into a tirade against' accusations he hadn't made. It didn't sit well with Aster that Jack had automatically come to expect an attack from him, but to be honest Aster was usually expecting and attack from Jack first. Attention seeking though they may have been, Jack had long been going out of his to target the Pooka for increasingly more malicious and elaborate pranks over the course of their acquaintance. Things may have leveled off into a hesitant trust after Pitch, but Aster would never forget Easter '68, or everything else that led up to that point. He'd given as good as he'd got though, usually, so doubtless Jack had his axes to grind as well. He'd have to look into burying those hatchets at some point, but for now he had bigger concerns.
"Jumpy, mate?" Apparently, provoking the kid was the name of the game, whether he'd planned it or not. Aster was many things; unfortunately socially awkward was definitely one of them, if evidenced by Jack's petulant scowl.
"Funny, 'Roo. Whaddya want?" Jack's tone was the perfect mix of bored and sullen, which usually drove Aster around the bend. Doubtlessly why the boy had chosen to use it, and knowing this allowed Aster to take a deep, calming breath before continuing.
"That backlash is getting worse, bucko. Y'need to get it under wraps, pronto." Jack's scowl deepened further, turning his usually attractive face ugly with it.
"And who are you to make me? My mother's dead I'll have you know, don't need great big fuzzy busybody over my shoulder." Jack's words were deliberately harsh, falling between them like pointy little needles. Aster shrugged it off again, having expected the resistance.
"You're right there kid, I ain't yer mum. Just wondering how long you'll let it go. Til you hurt someone, perhaps? Til one of your little games with your believers ends badly? Can you afford that, Jack Frost?" Jack had frozen solid, no pun intended, upon hearing Aster's words. The Pooka sighed internally, he hadn't intended to be a total asshole about it, but the kid needed the push, he needed to listen and understand that things weren't going to magically get better just because they ignored them. Even if ignoring the unpleasant things were a large part of Jack's favored coping mechanisms, in a situation like this is could very well end in tragedy, and Aster refused to allow it when he knew Jack could be coerced into hearing the truth. The boy's face was still downcast, longish bangs throwing shadows over his eyes, but Aster could see Jack's mouth working, like he was searching for a response.
Or maybe trying not to cry. Please MiM, don't let it be the latter, Aster was absolute shit as handling someone else tears. His own were bad enough, thankyouverymuch. And uncomfortable silence settled between them, Aster still looming over Jack, casting him further into shadows, hands on his hips. Jack knelt in the dirt, filthy and damp and still. When he finally spoke, there was a broken-glass quality to his voice, but he didn't sound on the verge of tears, so Aster counted it a win.
"So tell me genius, the fuck do I do about it?"
"You could knock off yer little one-man army mindset and let me lend a paw." Jack snorted a little, his lip curling visibly.
"And how do you propose that, Einstein?" Aster couldn't help the slight grin that made his lips twitch, although Jack couldn't see it. Had the boy right where he wanted him
"Come with me and I'll show you." After a moment's pause, the boy nodded and stood to follow, gathering his staff as he did so. Aster turned and led him from the field, listening for the nearly silent steps behind him to ensure the boy was following. Over a couple of hills and around a bend was what Aster affectionately called the training grounds, the place where he tested new weapons, honing his throwing skills, and performed his katas every morning. The location was set away form anything that could be easily destroyed, and the ground was nothing but hard packed dirt with a few stumps set out as 'dummies' for target practice. It was there that he led the boy, standing him in front of a cluster of three at a medium distance, then situation himself behind the kid and off to the side out of the blast radius.
"Ok, we do this same as I learned to throw, yeah? For starters, hit the stumps one at a time with some frost. We can focus on the rest later." The scowl had returned to Jack's face at Aster's words.
"Hit the stump? Hell, patronizing much?" Jack spat his words, before brandishing his staff and taking casual aim. The frost burst forth in a violent rush, splaying out in all directions. The ice slammed into all three stumps at once, instantly turning them into large stalagmites rising from the frozen ground. The frost spread in a wide 'V,' coating the ground from Jack's feet to nearly a metre past the stumps themselves, and branching to the side almost in line with where Aster stood. Dumbstruck, Jack gaped at the wanton destruction he'd unknowingly caused; and Aster didn't miss the boys hands beginning to tremble a little in what was likely honest fear on the wood of his staff. Tapping his foot, Aster coaxed the warmth of his power into the soil and the air, surrounding the stumps and quickly melting the ice until, a couple minutes later, nothing but wet soil remained, despite the training stumps looking a bit worse for wear.
"So, little bit gentler touch this time, I think. Well? What you waiting for, Easter? Let's get on with it." Jack's mouth snapped shut, and his grip tightened, smoothing out the shaking of his hands as his gaze narrowed in focus. With a quick, precise motion, the frost flowed again, no less violent but more controlled. All three stumps froze again, but the attack was more focused, the cone of affected area significantly narrower than before. Another tap to melt the ice, another gentle encouragement, or at least as gentle as Aster could manage, and they were off a third time. And a fourth, then a fifth. By the twelfth time, the stumps had to be abandoned for new ones. Jack seemed slightly off-put by the destroyed section, but Aster shrugged it off, refusing to explain that it was fine, it was no worse then he'd done himself over the years; just as Jack was likely ignoring the urge to apologize or something stupid. This was training, things got broken. It was better here than out there, where one wrong move could injure an innocent bystander, or cause irreparable damage to something that wasn't a hunk of wood in the ground.
By the time they'd demolished another set of stumps, Jack had improved enough to be able to hit a single target, although he was still throwing far more power than needed into each attack. The constant drain was taking its toll though; Aster could tell Jack was nearing his limit, if not there already.
"Right, let's call it there then. Pick up tomorrow after some planting, yeah?" Aster watched as Jack exhaled sharply, turning to face him then sagging a bit in place with his exhaustion, leaning heavily on his staff.
"So what's the point? How's this going to help? I mean, unless we all get attacked by evil stump creatures from outer space..." Aster ignored the sarcasm, mildly impressed that the boy had held his tongue this long.
"Can't drink the ocean through a straw, mate. Start simple, then work up to the harder displays of control." Jack blinked at Aster, eyes wide with confusion.
"Can't drink the... Man, does that even make sense? Who taught you to speak 'normal person,' cause you paid them too much, you definitely need to get a re...fund..."
Jack swayed suddenly, dangerously, eyes going blank and unfocused and skin blanching so white he seemed nearly translucent. For a moment Jack seemed to teeter in place, before pitching forward to thump face-first onto the damp ground, staff clattering down beside him a second later. Aster stared, completely stunned, at the winter spirit lying splayed out on his stomach like a murder victim.
"Aw, HELL..."
And the day had been going so nicely, too.