i'll come get you from the warehouse, ok? we'll walk to the treehouse and you can hang out here as long as you want and we can talk or i can take you flying on my dragon or i'll make it snow, i'm happy to do whatever
[ he's a terribly empathetic person, but the problem is that he doesn't entirely know how to comfort people. in all his years, he never had the trial and error to learn which words he's supposed to say or what to do. so all he has is this: an overflowing earnestness and things that he offers, like painting frost ferns on a child's window to make them stop crying. the only way he's ever been able to reach out to anyone.
even as he types all this up, he's already calling for the wind so he can fly over there. (and as an afterthought, he digs out the golden box that he buried deep in his room, painted with a face that is but isn't his - and he slips it into his pocket.) ]
[ jack's offer, though it doesn't completely wipe away his fear and desolation over what had been discovered on his return home, calms noah down somewhat. of course, he's still panicked over the loss of his entire being, if he'd ever had it as a ghost in the first place that is, but jack's willingness to come to his aid and offers to talk and cheer up him is comforting.
noah hopes that, if it comes down to it, he'll be able to offer the same thing to the other if it's ever necessary, though he doesn't know how much help he would be. ]
[ it takes him less than a minute to arrive at the warehouse to meet Noah out the front, even knowing that there isn't really any rush to be there. he seems as he always does, unruffled and almost lazy in the way he moves — but once his feet are on the ground, he hesitates a moment. the downside of a quick flight is that he hasn't had any time to think about what to do or say, and he still has no idea how to deal with this situation.
he makes an awkward gesture, one arm spread; offering his hand or a hug or... something, he doesn't know what. he isn't too good at initiating this kind of thing yet. ]
[ something like relief floods through him when he sees jack, if only because he isn't alone in this anymore. it's not something he wants to put on the gangsey, not when he's still trying to figure out what it is that's happened to him and if there could be any way to fix it. especially not when they're so happy in eudio, as opposed to back home where everything was a problem.
even if eudio is separating him from the ley line, it hasn't happened yet. he hasn't completed his end yet. it can still hurt him, and it has now.
so he shuffles over and accepts the offer as a hug, squeezing jack just because he can. he's not completely a ghost here. ]
[ the hug takes Jack by surprise, as they always do and maybe always will, but he returns it fiercely. there have been so many times in Jack's long existence that he felt scared and miserable and lost, and he would have wanted... this. exactly this, even if he couldn't have known back then what it would be, couldn't have imagined anything like it. that he can be that now for someone else makes his chest seem too small for whatever feeling is in it, like it might crack. ]
Are you kidding me? I was bored out of my mind at home. [ he releases Noah and doesn't step back far, lifts a hand to ruffle his hair. ] Seriously, though — any time.
[ his voice is sincere, despite the usual playful lilt to it. and his smile has a warm, sympathetic edge, although that falls when he remembers what he had brought along with him, reaching into his pocket to retrieve it. it was an impulsive decision, but it... feels like the right thing to do? he's not good at comfort, and he wants so badly to do something good here. ]
I brought something. It's, uh... [ he pulls out the golden casket, small and cylindrical. his grip on it is careful; he holds it delicately, almost reverent. ] This might be kind of a weird gesture, I don't know, but.
[ he hesitates, and for just a moment the expression on his face is strange, timid. he's never done this, he's never given this box to someone. all he can see is Pitch offering it to him and pulling it away, the Guardians shouting at him for having it. when Hiccup picked it up in their room, it hit a kind of terror that Jack didn't know he had. narrowed everything in the world down to himself and that stupid box again, just like in the lair, and it didn't matter what he thought because he couldn't breathe unless he had it safe. as if Hiccup was going to take it away from him.
but he wants to do this, for Noah. and so he holds out the memory casket in offering, letting Noah see the painted picture on the end, of Jack's face with warm skin and brown hair and dark eyes. ]
They're... my memories. The ones I haven't looked at yet, of who I was before. If you want, you could just— carry them for me while we walk?
[ thinking about it though, over-thinking it, he starts to panic. ] ... This is too weird, isn't it, I shouldn't have—
[ the edge of his lips lift up into a ghost of a smile, and he's glad that he has jack to count on, even if he knows in the back of his mind that dumping his problems (so similar to the spirit's) on someone else isn't a healthy way of going about it. not when he's just burdening someone else, in a way that noah has never wanted to do, in all of his cowardice of being a bother or annoying or anything.
sometimes he wonders if being around the hardly feeling whelk affected him in some way, changed him in a way that can't be revoked now that he's dead and gone and buried. but then he puts it to the back of his mind, because thinking about whelk is just going down a road he prefers to stay away from. ]
Thanks. [ even after already saying it, it's as though he can't say it enough - that jack's coming to help him when he's troubled is the biggest thing anyone could do for him, and just once isn't enough to put across how grateful he is.
and then a small box is pulled out, and once it's explained, noah feels tiny compared to what they hold. something like jealousy seeps into noah, a now unfamiliar feeling that he hasn't experienced in a long time, because jack has his memories on hand - he could open them and return them to himself at any time. noah doesn't have that luxury. but he also doesn't have the weight of having them there, of being scared of his own memories, and with that thought, it doesn't seem so good anymore, and the jealousy is gone.
now, he's just sad for jack. for himself. for how unfair life (death) has been to the two of them. ]
Are— are you sure? Will they be okay? [ he's hesitant, doesn't want to ruin something so precious to someone else. what if his dead touch does something? what if he drops them, or ruins them somehow? ] It's not weird. It's... Jack, you're putting your memories in my hands— it's not weird. It's incredible.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
we'll walk to the treehouse and you can hang out here as long as you want
and we can talk or i can take you flying on my dragon or i'll make it snow, i'm happy to do whatever
[ he's a terribly empathetic person, but the problem is that he doesn't entirely know how to comfort people. in all his years, he never had the trial and error to learn which words he's supposed to say or what to do. so all he has is this: an overflowing earnestness and things that he offers, like painting frost ferns on a child's window to make them stop crying. the only way he's ever been able to reach out to anyone.
even as he types all this up, he's already calling for the wind so he can fly over there. (and as an afterthought, he digs out the golden box that he buried deep in his room, painted with a face that is but isn't his - and he slips it into his pocket.) ]
i'll be there soon
no subject
noah hopes that, if it comes down to it, he'll be able to offer the same thing to the other if it's ever necessary, though he doesn't know how much help he would be. ]
that
would be great
thank you
no subject
he makes an awkward gesture, one arm spread; offering his hand or a hug or... something, he doesn't know what. he isn't too good at initiating this kind of thing yet. ]
Hey, kiddo.
no subject
even if eudio is separating him from the ley line, it hasn't happened yet. he hasn't completed his end yet. it can still hurt him, and it has now.
so he shuffles over and accepts the offer as a hug, squeezing jack just because he can. he's not completely a ghost here. ]
Hey. Thank you. For coming here, I mean.
no subject
Are you kidding me? I was bored out of my mind at home. [ he releases Noah and doesn't step back far, lifts a hand to ruffle his hair. ] Seriously, though — any time.
[ his voice is sincere, despite the usual playful lilt to it. and his smile has a warm, sympathetic edge, although that falls when he remembers what he had brought along with him, reaching into his pocket to retrieve it. it was an impulsive decision, but it... feels like the right thing to do? he's not good at comfort, and he wants so badly to do something good here. ]
I brought something. It's, uh... [ he pulls out the golden casket, small and cylindrical. his grip on it is careful; he holds it delicately, almost reverent. ] This might be kind of a weird gesture, I don't know, but.
[ he hesitates, and for just a moment the expression on his face is strange, timid. he's never done this, he's never given this box to someone. all he can see is Pitch offering it to him and pulling it away, the Guardians shouting at him for having it. when Hiccup picked it up in their room, it hit a kind of terror that Jack didn't know he had. narrowed everything in the world down to himself and that stupid box again, just like in the lair, and it didn't matter what he thought because he couldn't breathe unless he had it safe. as if Hiccup was going to take it away from him.
but he wants to do this, for Noah. and so he holds out the memory casket in offering, letting Noah see the painted picture on the end, of Jack's face with warm skin and brown hair and dark eyes. ]
They're... my memories. The ones I haven't looked at yet, of who I was before. If you want, you could just— carry them for me while we walk?
[ thinking about it though, over-thinking it, he starts to panic. ] ... This is too weird, isn't it, I shouldn't have—
no subject
sometimes he wonders if being around the hardly feeling whelk affected him in some way, changed him in a way that can't be revoked now that he's dead and gone and buried. but then he puts it to the back of his mind, because thinking about whelk is just going down a road he prefers to stay away from. ]
Thanks. [ even after already saying it, it's as though he can't say it enough - that jack's coming to help him when he's troubled is the biggest thing anyone could do for him, and just once isn't enough to put across how grateful he is.
and then a small box is pulled out, and once it's explained, noah feels tiny compared to what they hold. something like jealousy seeps into noah, a now unfamiliar feeling that he hasn't experienced in a long time, because jack has his memories on hand - he could open them and return them to himself at any time. noah doesn't have that luxury. but he also doesn't have the weight of having them there, of being scared of his own memories, and with that thought, it doesn't seem so good anymore, and the jealousy is gone.
now, he's just sad for jack. for himself. for how unfair life (death) has been to the two of them. ]
Are— are you sure? Will they be okay? [ he's hesitant, doesn't want to ruin something so precious to someone else. what if his dead touch does something? what if he drops them, or ruins them somehow? ] It's not weird. It's... Jack, you're putting your memories in my hands— it's not weird. It's incredible.