Jᴀᴄᴋ (❅) Fʀᴏsᴛ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lake_effect) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2014-07-08 12:38 am
lake_effect) wrote in thecapitol2014-07-08 12:38 am
Entry tags:
when the moon doesn't tell you something... ( OPEN! )
Who| Jack and YOU! (cameo by man in moon)
What| Jack is in need of a little fun...
Where| Rooftops of the Training Center!
When| Now!
Warnings/Notes| n/a
This wasn't right. None of it was. Living here was a constant, throbbing pain; there was no fun, there was no happiness. How could you possibly be happy here, knowing that in you will probably die (again) in the possible future? There were amusement parks and attractions all through the Capitol, but Jack couldn't find any fun in it. Or rather, he couldn't find anyone actually having true fun from it.
He was a human through and through now; his death in the arena was an example of that. There was no way to describe how dying felt, after living for more than 300 years. It was cold, and it was scary. It was enough to give him nightmares when he actually slept. The fact that Pitch wasn't here to be the cause of said nightmares didn't really help him at all.
Bunny said that this moon wasn't their moon, but he wanted to try all the same.
"What am I doing here?" Jack mumbled, wrapping his arms around his middle. Maybe if he asked, someone could make a little replica of his staff..."I don't understand this. Do you even understand this?"
He started to pace back and forth. "I don't understand how I'm a full fledged Guardian one minute, and then the next I'm helping a bunch of people get their kicks from watching people kill each other. That's not fun. That's not what I wanted to do when I agreed to this!
"Maybe I'm really not a Guardian. That would already make sense since, y'know, I can't do anything anymore. I can't even make a snowball."
Jack sighed. "What's the point of me when there's no fun here?"
A very good question indeed.
What| Jack is in need of a little fun...
Where| Rooftops of the Training Center!
When| Now!
Warnings/Notes| n/a
This wasn't right. None of it was. Living here was a constant, throbbing pain; there was no fun, there was no happiness. How could you possibly be happy here, knowing that in you will probably die (again) in the possible future? There were amusement parks and attractions all through the Capitol, but Jack couldn't find any fun in it. Or rather, he couldn't find anyone actually having true fun from it.
He was a human through and through now; his death in the arena was an example of that. There was no way to describe how dying felt, after living for more than 300 years. It was cold, and it was scary. It was enough to give him nightmares when he actually slept. The fact that Pitch wasn't here to be the cause of said nightmares didn't really help him at all.
Bunny said that this moon wasn't their moon, but he wanted to try all the same.
"What am I doing here?" Jack mumbled, wrapping his arms around his middle. Maybe if he asked, someone could make a little replica of his staff..."I don't understand this. Do you even understand this?"
He started to pace back and forth. "I don't understand how I'm a full fledged Guardian one minute, and then the next I'm helping a bunch of people get their kicks from watching people kill each other. That's not fun. That's not what I wanted to do when I agreed to this!
"Maybe I'm really not a Guardian. That would already make sense since, y'know, I can't do anything anymore. I can't even make a snowball."
Jack sighed. "What's the point of me when there's no fun here?"
A very good question indeed.
no subject
She shook her head.
"You had a stupid job then, Sir. To make things cold - I hate it when it is cold, you know? So often, it was freezing in Paris - there was snow everywhere and my Pa would send me out for hours and hours with no shoes nor stockings and no coat, and just an old chemise and a rag of a skirt to warm me. God, how I hate the winter. It is so for the rich children to have fun, but do you not think of women like me, and old men dying from the cold? Do you not think your job is cruel?"
She was quite clearly fed up, though her temper wasn't all to do with Jack. But he was proving to be a good scapegoat to blame her past troubles on.
"Were you lying that that is your job? How can it be your job? Magic?"