Guest: Yes, Jack and Faith can only fly when touching each other. Through clothes counts (hey, if people can walk through Jack and his clothes as if they're a part of him, I think that this is an acceptable loophole). I figure that if they're the Frost siblings, they'd be ~magically connected~ somehow, and if they're connected then it makes sense for their powers to be linked or dependent on the others'. I'm sorry that I've not made that very clear yet.
footprints in fresh snow: part 3
Jack would like to have been able to claim that he and Faith took to flying like proverbial ducks to water. He would have loved to say that, after perhaps a few tiny hiccups, he was riding on air currents with the grace of a bird - as if the weight of his sister on his back was nothing (which it almost wasn't, to be fair - she barely weighed anything).
In reality, it was less like 'a few hiccups' and more like a relentless coughing fit. Jack tripped and stumbled in the air, landed face-first twice and almost dropped Faith three times. Still, the pair eventually found their way to the edge of the cluster of houses - a quaint village constructed mostly of wood and illuminated by small fires. Even at this late hour there were people milling about of various ages and outfits (though most wore the same uniform shade of brown), and none of them seemed at all perturbed by the sudden appearance of two quasi-airborne, white-haired children.
Jack interpreted this as a good sign.
After pushing himself to his feet, untangling himself from his cloak and giving Faith a swift check-over, he and Faith took each others' hands, offered each other encouraging smiles and ventured a little bit further into the village. They passed two bearded men in heated debate ("...Sarah's mutton is nice, James, but let's face it, my Martha cooks the best mutton in this settlement." "You listen to me, I'll have no one put down my Sarah's cooking..."), an elderly couple comforting a frantic woman with a baby in her arms ("...can't have gone far, he promised he'd look after her, he'd never let anything happen to -" "It's been several days, Mary. The men've searched for them as long as they've been able to spare the time. I'm sorry..."), and a young man strumming a gentle tune on a guitar to the delight of two children.
"Hello!" Jack greeted a passing woman cheerfully and Faith put on what she hoped was a winning smile, but the woman didn't even glance up. Maybe she had someplace urgent to go? "Hello?" The seated couple didn't respond either. Jack and Faith exchanged bewildered glances.
Faith cleared her throat. "Hey, mister?" No answer - he ignored them entirely. Faith's eyes narrowed slightly. She let go of Jack and marched up to him. "Mister. Hey! Look at us!"
Frustrated, Faith reached out to tug at the man's sleeve.
Her hand passed straight through him.
Faith inhaled sharply, her hand snapping to her chest to be cradled by the other; she reeled backwards and Jack automatically knelt to catch her, staring dumbly at the man, who continued his hushed conversation as if nothing had just happened. How - ?
A dog charged Jack with a little boy at his heels; they ran through Jack as if he were nothing more than air. Jack gasped, snapping upright. The sensation of them ghosting through him - it chilled him deep to the bone and further still, gripping his lungs and squeezing.
Faith and Jack groped blindly for each other's hands again and clung to each other for dear life as two more people breezed through them.
"H-hello?" Jack's voice hitched, cracked and rose, edged with panic. "Can anyone... Hello?!"
He may as well have been mute. They may as well have been invisible.
No - they were invisible. More than that, they were nearly incorporeal. But...but what sense did that make? Jack's fingers tightened around Faith's, and around the staff in his other hand. He could hold her, he could hold it. He felt the grit between his bare toes and the solid material of his clothes brushing his skin, and he'd felt the chunks of ice as they'd fallen from his rising body. Yes - he and Faith were definitely solid.
Not solid enough.
Faith tugged on his arm and spoke in a small voice. "Are we dead?"
"I don't know," he answered weakly.
For the first time in his short life - but definitely not the last - he felt utterly, hopelessly lost.
His name was Jack Frost. Her name was Faith Frost.
They knew that because moon told them. It was all he ever told them for a long, long time, after pushing them headfirst into the deep end of a world that neither heard, saw, nor cared.
But they had each other. For now, that would have to be enough.