[OPEN] Crave for quilt and the Sun

[wintershepherd]

Characters: Jack Frost & ANY
Date: Assorted dates in April
Location: Anywhere
Situation: Catch all log for first half of ALL OF April, for both Keeliai and during landfall if needed. A couple of general prompts, ping me for specific starters!
Warnings/Rating: Will add as needed!


KEELIAI; NIGHTTIME
Jack still goes out to paint frost on the windows at night, but the temperature hasn't been anywhere near freezing in over two months and it's now gotten to the point where even with the magic laced into the ice it won't stay, rivulets of melted water destroying the intricate patterns he takes such pride in. He gets frustrated and scrubs them off, starting again and again because he has little else to fill his nights and despite his love of adventure, he is a creature of habit. He's restless and fidgety and anxious, darting from building to building on tenuous gravity and an equally flighty wind.

KEELIAI; DAYTIME
He still has a few deliveries to do during the day, a few kedan who give over their wares to be shuttled around the various Sectors, but it's a fraction of what he normally does, laced with grudging. Jack delivers them just the same, saying nothing about the occasionally withheld payments, hopeful to show that it's the work he appreciates more than the juulan.

But between those sporadic tasks he finds himself drawn to the playgrounds where in past months he'd taken to stopping by. With the increased tensions between the kedan and the foreigners, the children were ushered to and from their schooling with no stops, and their public play spaces were left lonely.

Jack sits in one of the empty swings, dragging bare feet through the sand, telling himself that if he waited, perhaps at least some of the kids would come by...

Comments

for Bean;

[wintershepherd]

After agreeing to meet with Bean and give him a taste of flying, Jack rode the wind over to the Metal as the sun slipped beneath the horizon, doing a few aerial flips in the dusky air to loosen up. He found the suite number he'd been given and knocked -- not on the door, but on the balcony window. Then, because he knew Bean wasn't able to see him, added a curl of delicate ice across the glass.

[justlittle]

Bean had been watching the sun go down, waiting for some sign of the invisible Jack. He shakes his head when he hears the knock-- what is it with people coming in through the window? He opens it and peers out, but just as he expected, he sees no one there. "Jack?" he calls. "I'm assuming that was you."

[wintershepherd]

"You got it," Jack answers and his voice to Bean's right, settling the tip of his staff on the metal railing so Bean can see where he's near as ice slicks itself across the iron.

"You know, I didn't ever get your name."

[angermanaging]

Bruce is a chronic insomniac. It comes with the territory, having PTSD as badly as he does-- not that he'd ever call it that out loud-- but for whatever reason, he has tearing nightmares fairly regularly. Some nights he doesn't even try to sleep until after extensive meditation, and this is one of those nights.

He's sitting up, trying to find his calm, staring blankly at the wall as he dives inward. That means he's in the perfect position to see the whorls of frost start to appear on his window. It takes him a few moments to notice, but when he does his attention sharpens, and he watches curiously as the ice slowly melts and the frost reappears and then melts again.

The whole thing is pretty strange. Bruce is curious enough to get to his feet, knees cracking after sitting cross-legged for so long, and pad his way over to the window. He peers out through it, but can't see anything. It's empty, just the normal street. Maybe the thing with the frost is an odd quirk of Keeliai.

By now the melted ice has turned into fogged condensation on the glass. He idly reaches up to draw the crystalline structure of ice on it, feeling like a kid in a Christmas movie. Growing up in New Mexico meant he'd never had this experience himself as a kid.

[wintershepherd]

The condensation and Jack's concentration on his icy painting means he doesn't notice Bruce on the other side of the glass until he starts drawing from the other side and Jack jumps back from the window, banging his head on the railing.

"Ow..." Rubbing the back of his head a bit as he sat up, Jack addressed the man sheepishly, unaware that Bruce couldn't see him. "Hey, sorry about that. Didn't see you there..."

[angermanaging]

Sure enough, there's no response. Bruce doesn't see or hear anything, though he is looking curious and alert out into the street as he traces lines onto the window.

He gets bored with drawing crystal structure-- too repetitive-- and starts writing out the equation for determining the friction coefficient of skin on damp glass. It's sloppy and hardly legible, but it's the middle of the night and he should be sleeping, anyway.

Keelai - Night

[backwordscompatible]

For somebody who was usually up with the sun, one might expect Zatanna to at least go to bed early to make up for those lost hours. Nope. If anybody ever asked, she would tell them she didn't actually sleep: she just got bored enough.

Well, she certainly wasn't bored this evening. Her ice cream job was all of a bust now and customers were starting to give her dirty looks even at the magic shop, and she had had enough. Which meant a little bit of late-night mischief was in order. Donning her other "work" uniform, she ran her gloved fingers through her hair a couple times before heading out into the night.

All it took was a single spell to summon the magic circle that would lift her into the air, high above the judging glares of those were were already muttering rumors about an impending curfew.

Curfew. Yeah, right.

[wintershepherd]

It wasn't difficult to spot her but Jack wanted to make a game of it anyway, and started leaving little trails of frost for her to find all over the city. Some of them had clues written in them, pointing in one direction or the next and by the time midnight was nigh, they'd been from one side of Keeliai to another and Jack was waiting for her in the Fire Sector, on a flat rooftop that overlooked one of the glowing fountains that still retained a measure of its brightness even with the others having faded.

"Fancy meeting you here."

night time

[imaginate]

Night time is not ideal for creatures who prefer light. He's lurking. He doesn't usually lurk but then again, he's found himself doing one too many things he thought he wasn't supposed to or wasn't cut out for.

He passes a few of the windows, remembering the first time he saw the frost on Zatanna's. He still thinks it's beautiful, and it's art, and instinctively traces his own fingers over the melting frost to change the pattern to make sure it keeps looking beautiful even though it's melting.

Lost cause.

His fingers slid over the snowflake he's traced and he hunches his shoulders, continuing on homewards.

[wintershepherd]

It hasn't been a good night for his frost painting and when Jack loops back around a circuit he's already made he discovers that most of them are already in shambles and he's irrationally frustrated by that, especially the large piece he'd tried to do on the front of a shop window as a nice surprise for the kedan owners when they arrived in the morning. What had been graceful archs and whorls in a rather fetching symmetrical pattern were now saggy loops that looked like someone had sneezed them there rather than the hour he'd spent getting everything right.

He snatches a towel from a nearby line, leans his staff against the wall and stands on his toes to reach the top of the window, starts rubbing the ice off the glass so he can start again because he's Jack Frost and too stubborn to admit defeat in the face of a temperate climate, muttering all the while at it.

"Stupid warm weather... why can't the stupid turtle have an internal compass that points north..."

Night time

[the_other_eight]

[Pepper had taken to walking more at night then in e day. When e sun was down things seemed to come alive in a more peaceful way then when the locals gave dark glares in the afternoon hours. She'd waited until Tony had buried himself again in the workshop and left a note promising fresh coffee when she returned.

The nights had grown warmer. Warm enough for a light coat instead of something heavier. She wished that the weather would stay like this tear round. Just warm enough for a light night stroll. When she noticed the quickly warming frost she decided to follow them and look for the boy causing the patterns.]

Jack?

[It was a quiet questioning, although the boy she was watching was unmistakable. No one else could ever look like Jack, even in the deep of the night.]

[wintershepherd]

[ Jack stops mid-painting at the voice, turning with a smile dawning on his face. ]

Pepper! What are you doing out here so late?

[demon_brat]

It was the sound of the swing creaking that caught Damian's attention as he was walking past it. Without the laughter and screaming of children, it sounded wrong. So he looked.

And there was. Frost. Alone and forlorn and, once upon a time, this image wouldn't have even registered, with Damian, but now he had learned enough to know that it was a sign that something was not right.

Considering their first face-to-face meeting, Damian didn't even have to wonder long what that was. He looked around the playground, then. Found himself... slightly unsure.

"So... what do children actually do in playgrounds like this?"

The question was absolutely sincere. He had never in his life spent time playing in such a place.

[wintershepherd]

Jack raised his head at the abrupt question in a child's voice and yet decidedly unchildlike, as always. He seemed weary, as though staying in one place actually used more energy than his usual lightfooted motions. He'd been sitting on the unshaded swings for a while and the crisp patterns of frost on his sweatshirt lacked their usual shine, breaking down into the material's fibers.

He looked out at the playground as though he could see its usual inhabitants, then back at Damian; there were darker hollows under his eyes despite his usual easy smile. "Anything they want. It's a place where whatever they can dream up becomes real, at least for the afternoon. When kids play it's as much what they imagine themselves doing as what they're actually doing. It's not just swings and slides and jungle gyms..."

ATAM; April 8th or 9th

[wintershepherd]

[wintershepherd]

Jack should have realized that something was wrong when he had been left unbothered at the checkpoint, no one sparing a glance in his direction and when he'd approached one of the officials (passport ready, no less) the man hadn't been able to hear or see him. None of them could, he'd discovered shortly after and passed into the city, admittedly none too upset about not having to deal with the whole quarantine thing.

But inside the city waited a new host of problems. There was a humidity present in Atam which hadn't been been as distinct on the turtle and it sapped much of the north wind's lift; so much so that when Jack tried to get a lift to survey the city from the air, it accidentally dumped him into the side of a building and Jack had spent ten minutes nursing a goose egg on the back of his head.

Walking it was.

[wintershepherd]

The city wasn't crowded by any stretch, less so than Keeliai at least, but Jack accidentally wandered into a small open-aired plaza courtyard where people were milling around and doing their business. The first person who walked through him got a sharp "hey!" but before he could even turn, another and then another did the same. Jack's form wavered like mist with each pass through him, until finally he stumbled over to press himself against one of the courtyard walls in an attempt to out of anyone's path, sagging against the stone and trying to catch his breath.

For TALIA; (Keeliai, WA-1A)

[wintershepherd]

((Following this conversation over the network.))

Jack touched down lightly in the Water Sector, glad that the decay in the canals had somewhat abated in the past weeks. It still wasn't back to how it had been, but it was far from as rank. He found the appropriate suite and rapped the door, having figured it was probably preferable to the window for Talia. He still wasn't entirely comfortable with this course of action, but he squashed the feelings down and waited.

"Talia? It's me, Jack Frost."

[thequeensown]

Talia hadn't truly known what to expect when Jack told her that he could fly, but she was doing her best to take it at face value; she'd seen a great deal in her short time here and a young man flying would just go right along with the rest of it. So, when the knock sounds, she is expecting it and answers it readily, a gentle smile on her lips and welcoming tone in her words. She keeps herself shielded and plans to do so unless matters require otherwise.

"Heyla, Jack... Please come inside?" She steps back to allow him room to come inside through the door.

For INARA; (Atam, Evening)

[wintershepherd]

Jack ventured out again in the evening when many of the city's residents had filtered out of the public areas towards he presumed back home. He'd been feeling achy and dizzy under the midday's sun but the afternoon had brought a light rain that had since tapered off, but it had also ushered in a cooler breeze that Jack found blissfully refreshing after the heat of the day.

Now he was taking the opportunity to examine some of the shops along the main walkways, keeping one eye out for interesting objects and another for unwary pedestrians so he could move out of their way -- with not a one of them able to see or hear him, he couldn't even blame them for walking right through him.

Jack stopped in front of a shop, the wide window lined with assorted glass works. It was far more spartan than the artistic shops of the Fire Sector, but after the mundane stores of tools and uniforms, it was a nice change.

[suoxi]

Inara is shopping as well -- she has little expendable money, but she had brought a bit of it just in case she should see something that she liked. Her suite was mostly decorated to her liking - thankfully - though the House could use a bit more...pizzaz.

She's using this to distract herself from the cool reminder she'd gotten upon arrival that no, her 'issue' was not gone and yes, it still lingered and was not going away.

It weighted heavily on her, but the appearance of Jack's shock of white hair pulled her out of a dark set of thoughts and she smiled and walked over to him.

"Jack?"

for Costigan; (Keeliai, Early Morning)

[wintershepherd]

Jack was glad that the curfew had been ended with their departure from the mainland, since it greatly freed up his available time outdoors. He was spending more and more time in his suite, fleeing from the sun at mid-morning (or midday, if it was overcast) and not coming out again until the coolness of dusk washed over the city. But the nights were still decently cool and so Jack was often up before dawn, skimming over the still-sleeping complexes with light feet, leaving trails of frost that melted moments later.

But this morning he had a particular task in mind and he went about it with an eager jauntiness that had been absent recently from his movements. A paper-wrapped package was cradled gently in one arm and he waited outside of a now-familiar cafe for it to open, offering sheepish pleading smiles and a handful of juulan to the owner until they grudgingly let him in (with only moderate grumbles about his being a Foreigner) and served his request, then he took to the sky again back towards Wood.

Jack touched down outside of the 1A suite, icing a cheerful message of Good Morning across Costigan's window where he was most likely to see it when he woke; he didn't know if the Bostonian was an early riser, but he wasn't about to knock this early, just in case. Then he tucked his packages close and settled in to wait.

[lostundercover]

Costigan was, in general, an early riser by habit. He often awoke at 6:00 or 7:00am to begin on his morning workout, wanting to stay in shape so that he was always prepared for what a place like this would bring. First it was push-ups, crunches, and other various body exercises. Then he would go running for a few miles, to clear his head and get out of the suite for awhile. Often, it ended up catching a coffee from the nearby cafe and then returning home to shower.

Today, the Bostonian was in the middle of his second rep when he saw the ice appear on the glass. At first he simply smiled a little and was all set to ignore it, but then the words appeared and he couldn't help but pay attention. He frowned a little as he stood, finding something about the scrawled message oddly discomforting.

Costigan grabbed a t-shirt to slide over his bare upper body, then pulled it to settle over his sweatpants. Walking over to the window, he slid it open and called out to his invisible friend, in case Jack was still within hearing distance. "That kind of freaks me out, kid."

He sounded amused, but it was the kind of joke that you knew had more truth than humor to it. Then the undercover straightened, waiting a beat to see if there was some reply.

[backwordscompatible]

After an unexpected conversation with the other Robin, Zatanna was left with her thoughts.

Particularly, thoughts of that one night not too long ago when she and Jack had spent time on the roof together. The shadows under his eyes. The stiffness in his movements. The weariness in his step. The fact that he had purposely avoiding answering her question: what did happen to him when it got warm?

Obviously, something bad enough that other people were coming to her for answers. Answers she didn't have. Yet.

Mind made up, she stood and took the long way around to Jack's door. Knocking once.

"Jack? It's me." Pause. Silence. She tried again, this time a little louder. "Jack?"

She knew he was home. So why wasn't he answering?

As a last resort, she opened the door--it was unlocked--and stepped inside.

[wintershepherd]

He'd found the washtub abandoned in an alley after one of his deliveries, lugged it home on foot because it was too bulky to carry mid-flight. The suite had a bathtub but this was as much nostalgic as familiar and he'd set it by the window, filling it with clean water and accompanying it with a few raps of his staff, hollow sounding against the metal, turning the liquid within into an icy slurry. This was becoming a habit, Jack thought as he pulled off his hoodie and draped it over the back of a nearby chair, followed shortly after by the white woolen shirt he wore beneath, then began untying the cords on his pants. He slipped into the metal tub, a shiver that was all relief and nothing of cold as the water flowed around him, chunks of ice floating against his skin, toes digging into the slush that had accumulated against the curved bottom of the basin and let out a long breath, skating a paper-thin layer of ice across the surface that broke up the second he moved.

Jack pulled as much of his shoulders and neck down into the water as he could but eventually he had to sit up again, the position too uncomfortable for even his unique posture. The edges of the tub only came up chest high and he leaned his head forward onto knees raised loosely in front of him, resting his forehead there. He wasn't sure how much time passed, but the frigid slush had begun working its way into his skin, dulling away the blue-black blotches of bruising that peppered his skin though they never fully faded, not even with these ice baths.

For a time, there was nothing but the swirl of water all around him (it was okay, as long as his head never went under) and the blissful numbness of the cold, and Jack didn't hear Zatanna's voice or the knocking at the door.