it's kind of a hike, i live in a treehouse out in the woods so if you don't want to lug the thing all the way here, how about we pick a place to meet up instead?
[ She'll be waiting on a bench, simply wrapped box in her lap. She'd put some thought into the present, and she hoped Jack would like it. Inside the box is a sweatshirt, and wrapped up in the sweatshirt is a picture book she'd found. ]
[ he hardly takes long to arrive, the benefit of travelling as the crow flies, skimming over rooftops as fast as the wind carries him; when he sees Laura down in the park, he glides down on the wind and lands with a spring in his step, trailing frost across the grass from his staff as he walks towards her. ]
Hey, look at that, you wrapped it up and everything! [ the words seem sarcastic, but he says it with genuine delight, wide-eyed and grinning. ] It looks like a real birthday present.
[ the way he takes the present from her is cautious, like it's delicate (or like it's precious) and very much like... he isn't sure what to expect. before Eudio, he didn't think of ever receiving anything. since he's gotten here, it's still only a few people that have gifted him things, not realising the enormity of the gesture to Jack, and he still doesn't understand it. he hasn't done anything to earn this, to deserve it, so why — ?
but that only shows in his hesitance, the way he pauses, uncertain what to do with the thing once he has it. his eyes are still bright and he still smiles, cradling the box with one arm and plucking at the ribbon with the fingers of the hand that holds his staff. it's a bit of an awkward manoeuvre to get the lid off, and in the end Jack just sits down on the ground (not the bench, he remains as ever a strange creature) to open the present and pull out what's inside.
his face goes blank with shock and confusion. it's— it is a real gift. it's not that he thought Laura would be cruel and trick him, but presents, little material gifts, those aren't things that happen to him, for him. not ever. he just hadn't thought seriously on the idea that it would be happening now. there's a lot of feeling and thought tangled up in him over it.
but after that moment of incomprehension, his eyes go bright and he laughs, clear and soft, all childlike wonder and glee. ]
This is perfect! I lost my old sweatshirt, I've been stealing clothes from Katniss — it looks just like my frost lightning— [ and then he fishes the book out from where it had fallen back into the box, and he stops breathing. doesn't hold his breath, just stops, and it starts again on an exhale of mist: ] Oh. I—
[ his fingers shake a little as he touches the book cover. ]
[ Laura smiles at his reaction to the sweatshirt, joining him on the ground. It would feel too odd to sit on the bench above him. Looks like the shirt is a success, but then he freezes (no pun intended) at the book, and she gets worried. ]
Is.. is that alright? To get you a book about yourself? It's a little tacky, I know, like wearing the t-shirt of the band whose concert you're going to see, but I saw it in the shop and I thought of you so I bought it because I thought maybe you hadn't seen it...
No! [ he's still not through the shock of it but he hurries to reassure her, hearing her chatter on with worry. ] No, it's alright, I just—
[ at home, stories of Jack Frost are a mixed blessing. on one hand it's a hope, it's some part of him that exists in the world and maybe, maybe if there's enough of that then people will start to think of him and they'll believe, they'll see him at last. on the other hand — those stories aren't him. they're written about him when not one person has ever seen him or believed in him, and it's a cruel sting that there are these stories and still no one sees him.
it feels different here. to be handed a book about him by someone that knows him as he is, it's not a reminder of his barely-there presence in the world. it's proof of being known and remembered, thought of even for one brief moment.
his touch pulls away from the book so that he can scrub the back of his hand across his eyes, trying to press back the tears he can feel pricking at him. there's something guileless about it, not trying to hide the fact that he is tearing up, not ashamed or embarrassed, just stopping himself from making this too strange. he laughs again, a little more wrung out this time, still happy but overwhelmed more than that. ]
I hadn't, um — I hadn't seen it. I didn't know— Thanks. It's, it's good.
[ He says it's good, but he's starting to cry. Either that means he's lying, or it means that it's even better than Laura had hoped. That this silly little children's book means more to Jack than she could have guessed. Unsure what else to do, she scoots over next to him and gives him a hug. ]
[ even in Eudio, he very rarely gets hugs and it shows in the way he tenses — not hostile, but startled, like wild animal's flight instinct going off. it's only for a moment before he relaxes himself, leaning into the embrace.
he's too worried that this could become even more of a mess, if that horrible desperation surges back up like it has before, leaking through cracks in his defences and making him want to cling and beg. it's happened with both Hiccup and Katniss but he needs to make it stop. it isn't— good. so instead of putting an arm around Laura, he just clutches the hem of her shirt with the tips of his fingers, like a child. ]
Thanks, Laura. It's, uh — [ he laughs again, trying to get away from the serious mood of all this. ] It's the best birthday I've ever had! Haha...
[ it's the only one he's ever had. that's the joke. it's funny. ]
[ She gets the joke, pathetic as it is, and smiles sympathetically, hugging a little tighter before releasing him. ]
Good. I wouldn't want to set the standards too low.
[ She's a little chilled from hugging a body so cold, so she rubs her hands on her thighs as she tries to think of what to say next. A part of her mind wonders what touching Jack some more would feel like— would it be cool and refreshing, or too cold to handle?
In any case. ]
Have you been having a good holiday? I know you said you hated Christmas, but New Years is fun, right?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
text; Jan 1st
well now i have but i don't know where you live or how to give it to you.
you should tell me so i can give you your birthday present.
no subject
so if you don't want to lug the thing all the way here, how about we pick a place to meet up instead?
no subject
how about benson park, this afternoon?
no subject
i can do that no problem ;) i think i'm ready for my first ever birthday present
no subject
[ She'll be waiting on a bench, simply wrapped box in her lap. She'd put some thought into the present, and she hoped Jack would like it. Inside the box is a sweatshirt, and wrapped up in the sweatshirt is a picture book she'd found. ]
no subject
Hey, look at that, you wrapped it up and everything! [ the words seem sarcastic, but he says it with genuine delight, wide-eyed and grinning. ] It looks like a real birthday present.
no subject
Of course I did. Couldn't let your first ever birthday present look subpar.
no subject
but that only shows in his hesitance, the way he pauses, uncertain what to do with the thing once he has it. his eyes are still bright and he still smiles, cradling the box with one arm and plucking at the ribbon with the fingers of the hand that holds his staff. it's a bit of an awkward manoeuvre to get the lid off, and in the end Jack just sits down on the ground (not the bench, he remains as ever a strange creature) to open the present and pull out what's inside.
his face goes blank with shock and confusion. it's— it is a real gift. it's not that he thought Laura would be cruel and trick him, but presents, little material gifts, those aren't things that happen to him, for him. not ever. he just hadn't thought seriously on the idea that it would be happening now. there's a lot of feeling and thought tangled up in him over it.
but after that moment of incomprehension, his eyes go bright and he laughs, clear and soft, all childlike wonder and glee. ]
This is perfect! I lost my old sweatshirt, I've been stealing clothes from Katniss — it looks just like my frost lightning— [ and then he fishes the book out from where it had fallen back into the box, and he stops breathing. doesn't hold his breath, just stops, and it starts again on an exhale of mist: ] Oh. I—
[ his fingers shake a little as he touches the book cover. ]
no subject
Is.. is that alright? To get you a book about yourself? It's a little tacky, I know, like wearing the t-shirt of the band whose concert you're going to see, but I saw it in the shop and I thought of you so I bought it because I thought maybe you hadn't seen it...
[ She's rambling oh gods, Jack, please stop her talking. ]
no subject
[ at home, stories of Jack Frost are a mixed blessing. on one hand it's a hope, it's some part of him that exists in the world and maybe, maybe if there's enough of that then people will start to think of him and they'll believe, they'll see him at last. on the other hand — those stories aren't him. they're written about him when not one person has ever seen him or believed in him, and it's a cruel sting that there are these stories and still no one sees him.
it feels different here. to be handed a book about him by someone that knows him as he is, it's not a reminder of his barely-there presence in the world. it's proof of being known and remembered, thought of even for one brief moment.
his touch pulls away from the book so that he can scrub the back of his hand across his eyes, trying to press back the tears he can feel pricking at him. there's something guileless about it, not trying to hide the fact that he is tearing up, not ashamed or embarrassed, just stopping himself from making this too strange. he laughs again, a little more wrung out this time, still happy but overwhelmed more than that. ]
I hadn't, um — I hadn't seen it. I didn't know— Thanks. It's, it's good.
no subject
Happy birthday, Jack.
no subject
he's too worried that this could become even more of a mess, if that horrible desperation surges back up like it has before, leaking through cracks in his defences and making him want to cling and beg. it's happened with both Hiccup and Katniss but he needs to make it stop. it isn't— good. so instead of putting an arm around Laura, he just clutches the hem of her shirt with the tips of his fingers, like a child. ]
Thanks, Laura. It's, uh — [ he laughs again, trying to get away from the serious mood of all this. ] It's the best birthday I've ever had! Haha...
[ it's the only one he's ever had. that's the joke. it's funny. ]
no subject
Good. I wouldn't want to set the standards too low.
[ She's a little chilled from hugging a body so cold, so she rubs her hands on her thighs as she tries to think of what to say next. A part of her mind wonders what touching Jack some more would feel like— would it be cool and refreshing, or too cold to handle?
In any case. ]
Have you been having a good holiday? I know you said you hated Christmas, but New Years is fun, right?