I am little Jack Frost
but I am warm through and through
His shepherd's crook crackles with cold light, and winter storms brew in the wake of his flight. Cities and towns are blanketed in steadily-falling snow whenever he comes around; streets become slick with ice, stopping up traffic and cancelling school to the delight of children and the chagrin of parents everywhere. What few crisp leaves cling to autumn's gnarled branches relent to the changing seasons and cast themselves to the ground; fallow fields slumber under his snow-laden touch; windowpanes become a canvas for delicate flowers of ice; frost spirals out like spider legs from the tips of his toes as he pads across the rooftops. Perhaps most importantly, children of all ages brim with joy when the first snowflakes kiss their noses — Jack Frost, their mischievous patron saint of fun, has come to play.
He frolics with them all day and well past suppertime: dozens of forts and tunnels and caves are built and demolished and built again; hundreds of snowballs are thrown; cheeks are reddened, fingers are chilled numb, and noses have been thoroughly nipped. Their elders beckon them inside, and the children disappear into the warmth and light of their homes, exhausted but having thoroughly enjoyed their day of winter fun. They plaster themselves to the windows to catch one last glimpse of him soaring off into the gathering night, leaving a trail of sparkling flakes in his wake — for when night falls, his work truly begins.
I will watch over the children of Earth,
guide them safely from the ways of harm,
keep happy their hearts, brave their souls,
and rosy their cheeks.
I will guard with my life their hopes and dreams,
for they are all that I have, all that I am,
and all that I will ever be.
Timshel :: Mumford & Sons — cold is the water // it freezes your already cold mind // and death is at your doorstep // and it will steal your innocence, but it will not steal your substance
Never Look Away :: Vienna Teng — let me uncover the silver in your dark hair // the weight of your bones // I want to witness the beauty of your repair // the shape you've grown
Laughter Lines :: Bastille — I'll see you in the future when we're older // and we are full of stories to be told // cross my heart and hope to die // I'll see you with your laughter lines
story, profile, coding, and nightlight button by kenny.
overlay by Alphys.
profile art by beeeper, background art by kenny.
'ride on, my flyweight love' — modified lyric from Flyweight Love by Vienna Teng.
the Guardian's Oath (modified to first person) and 'a Guardian, fierce and true' by William Joyce.