It took me longer to get this up than I would have liked, but I was at my mom's for the weekend and didn't get the chance. Honestly, I have very little to say, other than the actual chapter itself is over 4,500 words, which I am quite proud of. This one is the first arc of the story.
sassysaw- And wait no more, because here it is!
Sloppy Joe 313- You'll find out as the story moves along. No spoilers!
PCM- Really? That's cool. I don't really know who I imagined her talking as. Unless she talked like me, since she's based off of me, but I don't want to sound conceited. Or give her my ridiculous Southern accent, because I live in Texas(for you people who live in the States).
Fellowship of Avengers- Well, I don't want to be too mean to her(says the author who had her backhanded by an abusive mother, then get hypothermia), but I thought Baby Tooth would be a nice little reprieve for her. And I was asked about that by someone, over how Willow was being all cute. Her personality is rather complex, and, as stated before, based upon my own. I want her to have that rough exterior that can handle anything thrown at her, but on the inside, is rather lonely and longs for companionship. Thus, I created a bit of a bond between her and Baby Tooth.
Lokirka- I know, I didn't think you had forgotten me. I was just giving y'all a hard time. Yes, napping in sub-zero temperatures might just warrant some hypothermia, and would be odd if she didn't end up with it. Yes, our villain is a woman. I think that they are very underestimated opponents, especially when they don't strike an imposing figure. Also, that blue dot is something of more significance than some random woman jacking with her. In the well-put words of Fluffythorne, is has affected her as a person so completely, it has become key to her belief. The reason why, however, must wait for another time.
Fluffythorne- When you put it that way, I suppose she is living with them. I think they're just being cautious, but Jack is the only one who can truly keep watch over her when she's at home. At the North Pole, North is always there, and I would think the others are there pretty frequently, so she is better looked after there. And you've been complaining about the lack of action for a while now. Well, this should sate your thirst. If this doesn't hold people interest, nothing will, because this is all I've got through the means of a first arc, introductory chapter. No fights, but I promise, I have some epic ones coming. Patience.
Jack's bare feet touched the snow lightly as he landed, his steps barely leaving impressions on the snow as he walked. A dilemma he had not thought of was resolved before it could become an issue, when he saw the window was still cracked open about an inch, meaning he could actually get inside. He pushed the frame up, the metal sliding soundlessly despite the rust that dotted the sill. He stepped inside, greeted by warmed air, though it would be rather frigid to anyone whose body temperature did not match the snow.
He leaned his staff against the wall as he peered around her room. For the most part, it was neat as a pin, save for a shattered whiskey bottle in the corner that had not been there before. Her desk, of which was covered in papers with rough, though still skillful, sketches, and the wall above it, which had been covered with dozens of drawings. He took a moment to gaze in awe at the beauty born of the skilled hand of Willow.
Scenery from the forest was etched from every season, each place seeming to have its own set of illustrations. The one thing he noticed, however, was that none of the drawing had color, that were all done in plain pencil or charcoal.
He turned from the beautiful collage of images, and opened the door to her closet. The handle was sticky, but the hinges swung in silence, implying that she had treated the door in whatever she had used to silence the window.
The small space made for locating the backpack an easy task. The threadbare bag showed several years of use, but was durable and well taken care of. He unzipped the thick zippers and pulled a few random shirts, though he made certain a few of them were long sleeved, and jeans from their resting place in the neat rows of her closet and slipping them inside. He remembered her comment about socks and eyes the small dresser in the corner. He hesitated to open any of the drawers, out of fear of what he could find.
He sighed, though, knowing that he would, inevitably, have to go looking in it, anyways. Pulling open the top drawer, he breathed out in relief to find that it was filled with his goal. And nothing else. He grabbed several pairs, before closing the drawer, not wanting to think about what the others contained.
The gray canvas bag was placed on top of the clothing, and, after a moment of thought, he pulled her thick jacket from the back of her chair and the worn bag was zipped shut. He reached for his staff, but as he stepped forward, his foot kicked the corner of something small and firm.
He knelt down and peered under her bed, seeing a few dust bunnies, her knee length Converse, and a small book.
He reached for the book, sliding it from its place to see a frayed burlap cover, which may have once had something printed on it, but was now worn off.
It was nothing fancy, just a plain book. None of the little silk ribbons poked out of the spine, so he doubted it was a diary.
Curious, he lifted the distressed cover.
There were none of the ridiculous warnings on the front page, telling him to Go Away, OR ELSE, none of that. He wasn't even sure why people bothered with those, it wasn't like anyone paid any attention to them. If anything, it made people curious what they were trying so hard to hide.
Instead, it was labeled 2011.
"She's had this book for nine years...?" Jack murmured, turning the page to a very disturbing drawing for someone who would have been nine as well.
There was in image of a man with short, dark hair, the only distinct feature being a crudely shaded shadow for chin stubble, everything else in the default drawing style for children.
Of course, it was no help that the man's face was the only discernable thing that made someone realize it was a picture of a person, because the rest of the drawing was, what could only be assumed, chunks of flying flesh and blood as shrapnel from a bomb ripped the man apart.
Horrified, Jack turned the page quickly, only to be met with an equally terrifying image of, what was meant to be, the same man being violently tortured by figures whose faced were black with shadows. His attention was diverted to the tiny, wobbly writing on the back of the previous page.
I had another dream of Papa dying again, last night. There are so many, and they scare me, so I thought if I drew them, they would go out of my head and onto the paper. That's what the lady in my book said.
He was just talking to some of his friends, something about Bin Laden or something like that, and war. Then, the bomb exploded and Papa exploded with it. I don't know why I see these things, I miss Papa, but why do I always see him being hurt? I wish they would just go away.
The words of a little girl shook him to the very core. Based upon the date, it wouldn't surprise him if it was Pitch messing with her dreams, back before he had begun stirring up serious trouble.
There were several pages of it, the year once changing as he flipped. She only seemed to draw and write down her nightmares, when she had been holding them back for a very long time. Or maybe she didn't want to relive the experiences of them again any more than she had to.
Leafing through the section labeled 2012, the drawings became less graphic, but more meaningful in the detail as her skill gradually improved. The truly terrifying things were not of blood and gore, but in the details of the expressions. The handwriting inched forward in neatness, and the drawings began to deviate from simply being her father. It shifted to Willow's own bloody face with her mother grinning maniacally in the background. He did not read anything when she was being depicted. He held no desire to learn of her own past of abuse through her mother, he had seen more than enough of it.
He stopped short when the next drawing was just a doll. I had short, dark hair and the shadow of stubble that made him realize it was supposed to be her father, but there was little to it. Just what was supposed to be a representation on her father in the form of the crude little doll.
Intrigued, he flipped to the coensiding entry.
It was the little dolls again. They have been bothering me ever since I went to go see Stephanie at the asylum. They always look like Papa, but they say the meanest things to me. They tell me that he doesn't love me and he never did. He says that he's glad he's gone, now he doesn't have to see me. But I don't believe them. Papa would never say those things. Right?
He began flipping faster after that, realizing the entries of a little girl weren't helping him. Strangely, though, they just stopped after the next year. There were no more entries of her nightmares when she turned eleven, until, several pages further, he found one labeled Recent, in handwriting that was neat enough that it would have matched hers now.
He slowly turned the page, to see Willow huddled in a corner with her hands clutching her head. Tiny shadows seemed to have a darkened outline against the black background, as if they were moving all around her. Her expression was not one of fear, but more like panic, in the sense that she was simply waiting for the tiny shadows to consume her in darkness.
He did not read the words on the back, the page was completely covered in ridiculously small, though neat, handwriting. He did not want the detailed repertoire of everything she experienced, knowing it would be drastically more thorough that the others.
He simply skimmed the other pages, most of them being her fleeing from something, or trapped by shadows. None of them ever showed what was chasing her, though, which must have meant she didn't know either.
He was about to just slam the book shut, realizing what an invasion of her privacy this must have been, but after skimming through several blank pages, he came to another section.
The label on the page read Jack.
Unable to resist, he began leafing through the pictures, knowing they had to have been drawn from memory. He saw just a simple drawing of his face, impressed by the amount of detail she had remembered. There was a drawing where his eyes were wide and his face was covered in snow where she had thrown the snowball at him, and another where he was perched in the tree the first time they met.
What he saw the most, however, was when the two of them were flying.
His arm locked around her narrow waist as her hands clung to his neck. The thick, messy waves of her hair blew behind her in a wild tangle. He wasn't even sure how she would have known what that looked like, or if she had simply guessed. There were also many drawings of the tops of the forest from her perspective. Dozens of bare trees whizzing by, not quite an exact replica, but still very good for being done solely from memory.
He closed the book and gingerly replaced the sketchbook back under her bed. He should have flipped a few pages further, though. If he had, he would have found the razor blade taped a few pages from the back.
Or, more importantly, the dried bloodstains on it.
(*)
"But light is blue! This never happened before, but we don't know why!" North stressed, irritated at having repeated himself several times now. Bunny simply could not understand way it was such an issue. So what if the girl's light was blue? She still believed in them, that was all that mattered, right?
"Awh, this is a waste of effort. We've been saying the same bloody thing over and over, and it's gotten us nowhere. I give up!" he threw his paws up in the air, and left the room, frustrated with the futility of the conversation.
"I can see both of your points." Tooth murmured, having been silent throughout most of the debate. "We don't know why the light is blue, or what the effects of it could be, but it doesn't seem to be doing any harm."
"For now, but what about later? Last time we underestimated small problem, it became very big problem!"
"I know, but we don't know anything about this. And there isn't anything we can do about it until we do." she said softly, though she made it clear that this didn't need to be dwelt on any more. They couldn't do anything right now, and staring at the Belif Globe wasn't getting them anywhere.
There was, however, a human girl with hypothermia, and she was the current priority. The blue light could wait.
(*)
The fire let out another hiss as the wood split and cracked. Flamed danced in the hearth, flicking back and forth as they consumed the dry birch.
Willow had not moved since Jack had left, firelight reflecting off of her tangled hair like a dull penny.
"Hey, I got your clothes." he called quietly. She turned, a matted clump of hair falling over her shoulder.
"I don't suppose you grabbed a brush while you were there, did you? I know I didn't say anything, but I hadn't thought about it until I tried to run my fingers through the mess, and ended up almost ripping out a chink." she sighed, rising from the floor. Tooth's shawl was still drawn over her shoulders, but she hadn't shivered since he had arrived.
"No, sorry, though I should have. You definitely need it." he chuckled. She shot him an impressive acid glare, before snatching the backpack from his grasp.
"Well, I have a cheap comb in my bag, but I doubt it'll do much without spending a good hour on it. At least my clothes will be clean, though." she was about to walk from the room, but stopped short. Her face held an odd look on it, as she was faced with a dilemma she had not previously considered.
"Um, where am I going to change?" she asked, a blush tinting her face slightly at the awkward question.
"I think there's an extra room in the back where the supplied for the yetis are kept. Let me run it by Phil, and you can use that room." he said, suppressing a grin at her embarrassment over such a simple question. The irony didn't escape him that she would be put off by such a menial, innocent question, with everything that was going on.
The yeti grunted incoherently at Jack's question, but he waved his hands at the back of the area and shrugged, so the Winter Spirit took it as a yes.
He led Willow back through the dazzling work space, chuckling again as her attention wavered every few seconds, only to snap back with a vigor that bordered comical.
The door clicked quietly behind her as she slipped inside.
Heavy wooden crates were piled all around, various different labels stamped on their sides. She raised a curious eyebrow at the FedEx stamps, bewildered as to where the crates were actually delivered.
Unzipping the thick zippers of her backpack, sifting through was Jack had packed, before pulling out a pair of flare legged jeans, and a plain, long sleeved black shirt, of which she had cut holes in for her thumbs. She also noticed he had put her thick jacket on the bag.
She slipped her shirt over her head, shivering lightly as the chill of the air settled over her mostly bare torso and shoulders. As she pulled the sleeves from her arms, her hands lightly brushed the thin, crisscrossing lines that ran from her elbow, to halfway down her forearm. She ran her fingertips lightly over the scars, proud that she hadn't even considered taking the thin blade from its resting place in over three years.
The black fabric shrouded her eyes for a moment as she pulled she clean shirt over her head, the jeans quickly following suit. She cocked an eyebrow at the number of socks in the bag, before grabbing a gray and purple pair.
The zippers of her boots seemed like a whisper in comparison to the lour roar of the ones on her backpack as she closed it. The cool metal of the knob beneath her hand gave her something to focus on besides the memories bubbling within her, going into the past from when she was fifteen, but not before a few snatched of them flicked through her thoughts.
The clerk had given her a strange look when she set the pack of razor blades on the counter, and nothing else. As she reached across the top to pay for them, even a complete imbecile could see the scrutinous glance he gave her arm, but he seemed to visibly relax when he found it to be unblemished.
He hadn't put the pieces together, that there may have been a reason she needed so many blades. A box of twenty? Surely not, but he didn't hesitate when he saw the smooth flesh of her forearm.
She didn't used to be quite as strong, and some days, the weakness finally got the better of her. Sometimes, life was simply too much.
Nineteen were thrown into a small pond in the middle of the woods six months later, the last having been used that very day, then taped in the back of her nightmare journal. Intended to be a reminder, but as a temptation, as well. She was sick of being so weak, only the bite of the metal could soothe the relentless voices in her head. She kept one as a test of her strength. It had only been used once, the proof of that was in the four thin red lines on her left arm, beneath the thin layer of gauze and under her sweatshirt to hide the evidence of her activities. Still plenty sharp enough, and that had been no accident.
Her hand went to her arm as she recalled the two months she ached to rip the stained metal from the book, to give in, but she refused.
Three years later, it has the same blood on it.
Her hand twisted the knob and she stepped out into the bustling noise of the Shop. She glanced around to see Jack hovering behind one of the yetis, freezing the tools as the furry creature reached for them. He laughed as the yeti protested angrily, shooing the young Guardian off like one would a bothersome insect.
Still chuckling, he floated to where Willow stood, her backpack slung over one shoulder. Her head was tilted back and the lightly curled waves hung down in a considerably smoother sheet, though it was still a long way from orderly. Not that it came as any surprise, Jack couldn't ever remember seeing her with her hair brushed completely smooth, aside from when she had gotten out of the shower, and even then, it had tangled once again by the time it had dried.
"You know, I really could spend the rest of my life trying to draw this, yet still never get even half of it." she murmured.
"And I believe it. I've been coming here for eight years running, and it never looks the same twice." he agreed. He glanced down at her clothes, and was satisfied to see she had chosen a long sleeved shirt beneath her usual jacket.
The bright shawl was tucked neatly under her arm, its service no longer needed, as she began back across the workspace. Her eyes still darted around, drinking in her surroundings, but she wasn't as distracted as she had been before.
She and Jack had just barely entered the room, before the air seemed to grow cold.
"Jack," she moaned. "Don't you think I got cold enough without you dropping the temperatures in every room you step into?"
However, she wasn't the only one who felt the chill. For the first time, Jack could feel the eerie cold seeping into his frozen skin.
"I'm sure you do, but that isn't me." he said, instantly on alert. The icy blue of his eyes swept over the room, his stance shifting subtly into a defensive position.
He saw nothing, but when he glanced over at Willow, her eyes were glazed over as her blank stare fixed onto open air.
"Willow? What's wrong?" He got no response.
He moved to stand directly in front of her, despite his cold. She did not flinch or waver in her mindless trance, and as his own gaze bored into her earthen eyes, he was startled to see the blue wisps swirling in their depths.
"Oh no..." he whispered. He left her standing there, unsure what else to do, and practically sprinted to the others.
"Jack, what is matter? Is something wrong with our guest?" North asked.
"I don't know, there's something wrong with her eyes. They have these weird blue swirls in them or something- I don't know! Something's messing with her!" Half of his jumbled words made no sense whatsoever, but enough to alert the others that something was wrong.
By the time they had returned to her, it was more than her eyes that swirled blue. Tendrils of cerulean mist danced around her feet, snaking over her body and face. Her eyes were solid blue, their previous soft tones nowhere to be seen.
"Oh, my, this is very bad!" Tooth exclaimed.
Jack was frozen in horror, the mist circling her as though it was trying to consume her.
"Well, what are we supposed to do?! This isn't something we can just fight off! It's a bloody fog!" Bunny said, waving a boomerang through the air.
"Sandy, can you do something?" The small Guardian looked up at North, his expression saying I have no idea, but I can try. Trails of golden sand began to mingle with the wisps of blue mist, the two whirling like a gleaming tornado. The golden flecks settled into her eyes, and Sandy's brow furrowed in concentration.
The mist began to jerk and quiver, while the sand hugged closer to her body, trying to expel the mist. Willow's hands began to twitch at the combat locked inside of her mind, between Guardian and the unknown threat. The twitching shifted to tremoring, which quickly became violent shaking.
Her breathing hitched and, for a split second, her shaking stopped. Then, a bloodcurdling shriek cut the air and she clutched her head. Jack whipped around to Sandy, but the ancient Guardian didn't notice, all of his concentration was diverted to the raging battle in the girl's mind.
Finally, after one more fierce howl, she collapsed into the ground still shaking, and the mist seemed to peel from her body and fold in on itself, hovering frighteningly close to Willow.
The core of the translucent pillar began to darken, solidifying into a rather small, petite woman, though the sinister light in her cold, blue eyes gave her an intimidating air. Her hair was long, but the wispy ends shifted into blue trail which eventually faded from existence. The ends of her trailing sleeves and the train of her dress did the same, giving the illusion her entire body was silhouetted in blue smoke, as she took shape kneeling next to Willow's curled form.
For a moment, no one dared to move, but the strange woman broke the spell by shifting her head to glare at Sandy, who had withdrawn from Willow's mind after having dispelled the threat.
"Hm, don't I feel honored. Graced with the presence of all five Guardians! What on earth could have warranted that?" her voice was high and tinkled with false innocence, but she chuckled darkly, and the soprano facade was dropped. "I don't suppose you're here because of little old me, now are you? After all, you're not even supposed to know I exist, much less be ganging up against me."
"You did a great job of hiding, until you started meddling in the minds of kids. Now, you're out problem." Bunny hissed.
"You think she is the only person I've ever seized? You Guardians are more dense that I could have ever dreamed! I'm not trying to tip the scaled of belief, or I would have been discovered ages ago." She laughed again, she harsh toned echoing from nowhere, and Willow shuddered on the floor. The woman looked down at the huddled girl, the smiled twisted across her face sending shivers down Jack's spine. She stroked her hair, the woman's touch sending a spasm through Willow every time her fingers touched.
Jack ached to lose a bolt of ice at her, but was afraid to for the same reason none of the others had struck. No one wanted Willow to be caught in the crossfire.
"Then what is it you want, and what are you doing to her?!" Jack shouted, seconds from snapping his staff in his tense grip, but he had to refrain from firing. It was too cold as it was, and his powers certainly wouldn't help.
"You honestly think it'll be as easy as that? if I tell you what my goal is, it will be that much easier for you stop me. No, I will tell you nothing, you will know once it is too late. Things are already being set in motion, but success still hangs in the balance. But when I do succeed, my legacy will never be forgotten." her hand still made motions through Willow's hair, mahogany strands curling through her slender fingers. "My little pawn will see to that."
"Pawn? You'll never touch her again!" Jack's shouts rang once more, and the woman's eyes flashed to him, each azure gaze burning into the other.
"Oh, and what will you do about it, boy? Once she learns of your little discovery, she'll not want to be in the same room as you." she hissed with a knowing smile that left a sinking feeling in Jack's stomach.
"Discovery?" he asked, his voice noticeably quieter.
"You honestly think I would let you leave here, and not be watching? I saw you, and watched as you read that book. She'll never trust you again, once she finds out. She'll want nothing to do with any of you, and we can't have that, now can we?" she taunted.
"You think that will keep up from protecting her? You're insane!"
"As Queen of Insanity, I should think so. And it's not a question of if you would protect her, but if she would let you. In case you've forgotten, she is quite stubborn. Try to keep her here, she will simply sneak out and freeze to death in the snow." Jack hesitated, knowing that was exactly what she would do. The woman unfolded her legs and straitened with one fluid motion, her movements easily visible through the long slit in her dress, icy blue leggings covering her legs in a narrow sheath. Tension roiled in the air, but they still refrained from attacking, because of her proximity to Willow.
"Now, unless you want me to let that little detail slip, I will leave here with no interference from any of you." Her eyes bored into the angry expression on Sandy's face as she spoke. "That goes the same for being forced from the girl's mind." At that, her body dissolved into the blue mist, before vanishing completely.
Jack was upon Willow in an instant, pulling her upright as her eyes fluttered open.
"Willow? Look at me. Are you okay? What did she do to you? Did she hurt you?" Questions tumbled out of his mouth faster than her brain could process then in her disoriented state.
"I-I don't know. I'm fine, but the voices... she- Jack, for God's sakes, stop talking for five seconds!" she shook her head and pushed his hands away, before standing up. She swayed slightly in doing so, but shot Jack a warning look as he stepped forward to help her.
"Okay, fine. If you can tell me who she was, I'll shut up." he said.
"The only thing I can distinctly remember, is a voice saying All will remember the name Hysterium."
Yep, there she is. For the journal entries from when Willow was young, any wrong grammar or over simplified means of speaking were intentional, though I think I missed my mark to write from the perspective of a nine year old.
Also, just as a random point out, if anyone is having trouble coming up with names for people, I may be able to help. I come up with names like Hysteruim, Luminesrya, Obsidia and T'sama purely from imagination(two are names of OC's from other stories of mine, and I also originally used Obsidia as my World of Warcraft name), and am willing to help others brainstorm names if necessary. Just PM me if you want help.