Make my muse chose between two people. ANY TWO PEOPLE.
❝My sister..—my sister, I already saved her. At least, I hope I did.❞
[The last part is mumbled, for he is uncertain as to what really happened after he sunk into the ice. For all he knows, she could’ve fallen in too while hurrying over to his frozen corpse.]
[He shakes his head frantically.]
[Humoring anymore possibilities will crush his already back-breaking weight of guilt.]
❝——She lived out the rest of her life, safe and sound without me around. She doesn’t need any more saving.❞
[Olaf tries to decide if the boy might not understand his language. After all, he had clearly said that Elsa made him, did the boy have to repeat it in order to comprehend?]
“Yes, Elsa made me. I said this already.”
❝Yeah, I noticed.❞
[The snowman is really getting under his skin, and that’s practically a layer of ice.]
❝What I meant is, who’s Elsa? And how did she do this? I’ve never seen animated snow before, and trust me, snow’s kinda my thing.❞
[———When doesn’t he spoil every good thing that comes his way? When doesn’t he harm those he holds closest? The answer to that may be the end of him, but it’s not like he has anything to lose.]
Peter bit into blizzards with a flamethrower, an unimaginable sense of destruction running through his veins. A spirit seen by only few didn’t frighten him. Not when he was on Neverland soil. Pan had no patience for the boy, willing to feed him to the boys.
"Either excuse yourself from Neverland or face it’s rage.”
An incongruous chuckle rattled his spine, along with the flames underlying in their encounter. Jokul Frosti, the true legendary figure settled in the body of this eighteen year old boy, found Pan to be nothing more than a lost boy. Key word, lost; as in, if he can’t even find himself, he wouldn’t know if he would be the type to launch that arrow and kill another.
❝You’re barking up the wrong tree, kid. I’m not the guy you’re looking for.❞ Jack flickered down at his palms before returning to Peter’s gaze. ❝Then again, if you wanna play –❞ Jack conjured up a frosty fist with a light blue sheen to it and startling rumble of ice crumbling. This marked the point where the mature Guardian vanished and was replaced by the antagonizing Jack Frost who just loved to boast. ❝At least make it a fair one.❞
{ ❥ } ———— ;; “Flower——gleam and——-.” Green hues narrow at a figure wandering into the clearing. Her song ceases while she leans over the ledge in order to get a better look Surely he doesn’t know how loud he’s talking, right? The blonde canters her head, lips turned down in a pitying frown.
;; ❝—-Useless,❞ a hiss slings venomously from his lips in a heat of rage. Fun and mischief are not his only specialty, Jack’s also got a knack for flying and falling. Not the literal kind with his staff, but an internal flight. Rising to new heights within himself before spiraling downwards in extreme turbulence. And right now, he’s crashing – flames and all.
