i spent our last five dollars

[flowerly]

character (s) ; jack frost and rapunzel
accounts ; flowerly and feets
rpers ; shari and shari 
rating ; pg OF COURSE

[ Watching him was like watching a story book come to life. All lucid movements, floppy hair, side smiles, bare feet.

It was like a dream. Like a child's dream Rapunzel was excluded from when growing up. She never heard the tales of Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny -- she definitely never heard of Jack Frost. So the idea wasn't there, but the emotion sure was, the thought that she got the privilege of knowing what little children yearned to know was actually real. She could understand without the years of dreaming that these fairy tale people were people, people like anyone else. People like her. Guardians.

She was in the midst of the Jack Frost. How can she possibly contain her excitement? ]

You know, I've never actually seen snow. Not once.

Comments

[feets]

-- I'm sorry. What?

[ Sure, he had the icy palms, the magic staff, the flying capabilities. But Rapunzel had that hair.

It struck Jack as odd, at first, that Rapunzel was so captivated by his existence when she was the Rapunzel. You know, a real fairy tale character. Someone with a story ( which, upon discussing he found a few details were lost in translation [ fuck you Brothers Grimm and all that ] ), someone anyone could recognize just from the sheer mass of blond hair she had trailing behind her.

Soon enough, Jack found it was just part of her nature to be totally enthralled by absolutely everything. A butterfly here, a raindrop there. She was adorable, and it was... refreshing. An adult who was still just a child. Priceless. ]

Never seen snow, she said! Man, I'm bad at my job.

[flowerly]

Oh! I -- I didn't mean to say anything like that! I'll bet you're the best at what you do!

[ Not that there was any competition, she knew. Because no one would dare challenge the great Jack Frost! ... Who was cold on the outside, but clearly quite warm and gushy on the inside.

Rapunzel found she was good at reading him. He wore his inner thoughts like a coat -- a warm, toasty coat with thick hide. He was something everyone could recognize, everyone could plainly see but couldn't quite put on name on it. Something like a whisper in the dead of winter. Something... something sad.

Rapunzel was beyond happy she could see him. She might have died from sorrow if she knew she were one of the kids who could not believe. ]

All I meant was, if it's not too much to ask, I'd like to see some snow! It's all I've ever wanted for Christmas.

[feets]

[ He can feel the smirk growing at her defensive response -- something he shouldn't smile at, because he's a horrible person, but he does anyway, because she's too cute not to smile at. ]

It's really not time yet, so I probably shouldn't...

[ Jack clicks his tongue, like it deep thought. Of course he'd show her snow, if she wanted it -- he was happy to get the attention, and was not keen on letting pretty little ladies down. ( He is a ladies man, if you didn't know [ evil_grin ]. ) Standing with unexpected grace, Jack snaps his fingers once, a grin forming on his feigned "thinking" face. ]

Well! I guess a little snow never hurt anyone. Here goes nothing.

[ He tries his best to make sweet, lacy patterns made from his icy fingertips form in the air. At first, it's mere snowflakes that descend -- decorating Rapunzel's nose and hair with elegant little details, where no two are exactly alike. His fingers dance along to the silent music his magic creates -- a sound nonexistent, but still obvious to any viewers. This was the sound of winter -- his song. And this was what he lived for. ]

[flowerly]

[ It would be underselling it to say Rapunzel was anything short of utterly astounded and captivated by the magic in the air. Little drops of pure magic, she was sure. The non-quite song dancing in the background was obviously prevalent as Rapunzel's feet tapped along to the smooth melody -- eyes widening at the fluffy white beauty pouring all over her features.

Jack was an artist. Still just as misunderstood and alone as every other "typical" artist, but he didn't paint or sculpt or sing with paints or stones or words. He made magic -- with his fingers. He danced along to a common sound everyone knew, something Rapunzel would declare as "silver bells" and then shake her head saying " no no, that's not quite right". It was something next to her heart -- the sound of her heart, maybe. Not a "ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum" beat, but a frighteningly accurate mix of emotions, which all morphed together to form a single symphony on repeat -- a simple sound that radiated as the snow fell down and tickled her nose.

That's how she felt. Overwhelmed by the magic, enthralled by the snow, but utterly dazzled by the man. Jack Frost, the artist, the boy, the man, the legend, the Guardian.

He was showing her his works of masterpiece, the simple artistry that took 300 years to perfect. And she was quite plainly at a loss for words. ]

It's... it's beautiful, Jack.