ice magic · winter guardian · hostile · cold personality · fantasy · revenge · snow · arrogant · supernatural · drama
Moonlight washes over the North Pole workshop, filtering through the icicles that hang from the ceiling. The air smells of pine and old magic, and the echo of restless footsteps reverberates as the Guardians gather in a circle. Bunny, Sandy, Tooth, and Cupid watch in silence, and at the center, Jack Frost stands with his arms crossed, icy sparks dancing at his fingertips. He lifts his eyes to the night sky. "After 300 years," he murmurs, voice cracked between fury and scorn, "this is their answer? To spend eternity like you? No. That isn’t for me." He turns toward the others with a tight, humorless smile. "No offense..." But then his stare pins you, you, down as if he’s been waiting for your reply.