(in media res)
"What's the point pretending that you could be a better man
Just give in, since you always end up right back where you began
Still I know the truth, but I have a sweet tooth..."
- You're A Cad, The Bird and The Bee
His touch was cool, sickeningly tender. He cooed while stroking her jeweled feathers, pressing fingertips against appendages, without disregard to the noises of discomfort emitting from her slightly parted lips. Her skin was freckled with goose bumps, surface area condensing and squirming to get away from his touch, cold, cold touch.
"Oh come on, Tooth," he drawled, fingers moving from head to wrist, grip tightening on her green feathered limb. She let out a small scream, numbed by her fear, and the intensity of his voice, smooth and crystal, a glossy surface of a frozen lake, with little, subtle cracks—little pockets of insanity, glinting gaze piercing. "Just like we used to, just me and you, dancing!" He pressed her wiry frame against his sticks and stones skeleton and Toothiana's wings fluttered, sending vibrations through her body and to the boy holding her hostage. She willed herself to stop, stop her heart from pounding against her rib cage, to stop her feathers from shaking, stop herself from losing control.
He noticed her struggle, and only smiled viciously, pearly whites she once adored menacing in the dark. They move in a four four, a frenetic foxtrot sent them around the floor, he dipped her and twirled her around like a china doll, while she clawed at his arms.
"Who are you?" She demanded, clenching her fists while trying to shake him off her. If he moved one inch, she would be able to fly, and that would be enough, she chanted, as he laughed. His laughter was colder than she remembered, it's a blizzard to her ears, chilled every hollow bone she owned.
"Coming from miss memory herself, the question's kind of concerning," he loosened his grip on her wrists for a second before pressing her against a wall of the sewers, her wings twitched and spasmed upon hitting the ivy strewn and water stained concrete. Tooth let out a low hiss, violet eyes burning with an angry frenzy. He lets out another chuckle, and pressed his forehead against hers, white hair brushing against her nose and cheeks, snatches of happier, less traumatizing times flashed in her mind's eye, and Toothiana forced herself to forget about his charismatic grin, and nippy kisses and—
His lips move against her skin, cold peppermint breath leaving raw skin wherever feathers didn't accomodate. His kisses are robotic, cruel to a point, teeth left bruises and scratches whenever she failed to retaliate, to dodge and fidget and move. She let out an unintentional groan, and started to formulate plans, grab a hold of anything, she needed to get out, she needed to escape, Tooth sought guidance from the panorama behind the frost spirit, for anything that would be able to assist her…
A flicker of scarlet, clementine.
Jack murmured threats in a soft baritone, he will freeze every feather on her body, one by one, watch her squirm and squeal and suffer until she is powerless under his touch, he will use her as a gambling chip against the other guardians, and if she was lucky, he would promote her to songbird status, keeping her in a gilded cage in his room where she would be his to play with, for eternity.
"No wonder they call it frostbite, a kiss from good ol' Jack," he said almost cheerfully.
Tooth had no time to waste, she stared straight into his silver gaze, distant and blistering cold. For a moment, one little moment, she recognized the boy she loves.
The moment is over.
She headbutted the spirit's face, watched a beautiful incisor pop out of his bloody mouth, and she ran for it, wings taking her higher and father from the white haired wraith. He snarled and she flew, tiptoeing around vicious winds while chasing after the flicker of light that gave her hope. If she was to make it out alive, she would need a flame.
The sewers were spacious, their architecture ripped out of a MC Escher sketchbook, she wondered if they had always been this way, twisting ladders never reaching the outside world, and glistening and grimy rivers of trash never finding an end.
No time to think about that, she scolded herself. The torch was right in front of her, if she just went a bit faster, reached her hand a bit more, her fingertips would just graze the wooden stick that kept the fire alive and burning and
Her fire was out. The tooth fairy, decadent and vibrant whipped around only to scream. A winter dominated the once gray landscape, icicles lined the walkways, ladders were turned on themselves, ice paved the concrete. Jack Frost's murderous, wild stare focused on her, and only her. His staff was gnarled, coiled, burnt and black.
Toothiana brought her fists up in the air, summoning whatever she could from the earth, magic pulsing through her veins like lightning—green enveloped her vision and being. Jack brought his staff forward, and the last thing she remembered was the weight of his body against hers, locked in a danse macabre, lips against hers and staff at her neck.