stormaktstiden | Sample threads for Institute

Jack wasn't entirely sure where he was, aside from that it was somewhere in Europe. Probably Scandinavia. It didn't really matter too much, because there were snow and woods and mountains, except for that there was a complete deficit of people. No one to freeze or trip or throw a snowball at, no one to believe in him. He wasn't really sure why he'd let the wind drop him here in the first place, aside from that it looked, well, peaceful. Maybe he'd come back here to hibernate in the summer.

When he hears the unmistakeable sound of skis, though, he glances up from his perch in a tree, before jumping out, letting the wind carry him towards the sound. The boy that he finds looks a bit old to be believing in him, but if anyone needs a dose of fun it's this boy. He scoops up snow as he flies after him, breathing into it, imbuing it with his magic to bring out people's sense of fun, but then lets it fly.

Seriously, Jack, don't expect this guy to smile. You'll have a harder time with him than even with the Easter Bunny. ~~That guy at least has the muscles for it.~~

Björn whirls around when the ball hits him, or at least tries to whirl around - a motion stemming from reflexes and not thinking, obviously, because it is just a really bad idea to turn around on the spot when you are wearing skis. It results in the boy getting off balance and falling, remembering at the last moment to throw his arms to the sides and not forward to keep himself from sinking down too deeply and break an ankle from landing in a bad position, or suffocating from getting his head stuck in the snow. For a moment he will just lie there, and then does an awkward rolling up and over, pulling his shoes out of the bindings and rolling himself on the skies. Once he has achieved that, he simply sits on them and...

...and. With the sudden rush of adrenaline fading, he blinks into the crisp winter air, and finds himself realizing that as stressful the fall and the subsequent self-rescue action was, it brought him to stop and actually look at his surroundings. Not that he paid no attention before, but... just sitting here and doing nothing else, it feels... elevating, in a sense. Timo would like this, wouldn't he? He should bring him next time. (And yes, there might be a very faint smile tugging at his lips from thinking about Timo.)

Odd. There must have been a sudden wind, or... it really did feel like being hit by a snowball. Surely that is his imagination, just a wind that hit him at an odd angle, but... He has to think of the stories that his mother used to tell him when he was little, and the many books that he read in that long summer before he met Timo, when his mother was busy with getting settled and he was mostly left to his own devices. Most of the books in the house that they had moved into were old, hand-downs from the childhoods of the first children that lived in the small post-war building. In some of them, King Frost, or King North Wind, or King Winter... had been mentioned, personification of the northern winds and the winter. Right then in the summer, that had seemed very far away, but the description had reminded him of the brother that he'd had to live behind - always up to mischief and trouble, though he seemed a lot older than Vil.

...if Vil could see him now, he would laugh. But his brother is an ocean away, and they haven't spoken in well over a year. There had been good reasons to start the silence - their fights had gotten out of hand, and when every conversation leads to a fight, Björn had figured, stopping with the talks was the only way out. Out here, where nobody can see him but himself, Björn can almost admit that he misses the idiot. Even though he is an idiot who is too loud and talks too much and has way too much energy. And too many ideas. And just.

And he still misses him. Sure, he also misses Sigurd and to a lesser extent Ari, but... they aren't his brothers, and while Sigurd is much more like himself than Vilmar (which isn't hard, really) and he gets along with the Icelander much better, he is not someone that he grew up with from birth...

Björn shakes his head and forces his thoughts to return back to the landscape, just looking. And then he picks up some snow and forms a ball out of it, aiming into one direction and then throwing it exactly the other way at the last minute. Nobody can see him, after all, so he can be a bit childish despite being already way too old for those things. He's not in elementary anymore! But here he is, throwing snowballs at imaginary people.

Because the next will follow right after, this time as far to the right as he can throw. If King Northern Wind is throwing things at him (sure, it was most likely nothing but he can pretend), he'll throw things at King Northern Wind. Someone who doesn't know him would probably think that he is looking quite threatening as he attacks empty air, but someone who knows him very well might see the playful tinge in his movements and expression.

Laughing when the boy is sent tumbling into the snow, Jack flies down a little closer, just to make sure that he's all right. They're a bit isolated up here, after all, and if he actually hurt himself so far from civilisation, Jack would have to help. But then the boy sat up, and Jack relaxed, putting his staff down in the snow and sitting on the top of him, watching. "So you're a thinker, eh?" He said, aloud. Well, he had to talk to someone, even if they rarely spoke back.

Chuckling at the snowball, he shook his head. "Missed me!" But it was enough to make him jump into the snow, bare feet barely leaving prints. He scoops up another snowball as he walks in closer, aiming at the back of his head again. At least this time he doesn't have to worry about him falling off his skis, since he's already on the ground. It's just a shame that there isn't anyone else to tease into this fight.

Well, calling him a thinker is definitely a fitting description. But right now, he isn't thinking so much and more busy with forming a third projectile out of the snow - when he gets hit by something again. And this time he is sure that it can't have been the wind - and sure enough, when he raises a hand to touch the back of his head, there is snow on his gloves when he pulls his hand back.

Odd. He looks around, trying to see if there is anyone, but can't see a thing. Hm... Maybe it it really is the wind. Throwing snow balls. Right.

But the area is quite flat and he can see far enough to know that there are no humans around him anywhere, and... Even if it was a mutant who could use some kind of power to throw them farther, there just is nobody around. But he can't have imagined it this time, either. Well. Talking might help to draw them out either way, but what to say? "Hello" would just sound boring, like a bad movie. After a few moments of quiet consideration, he decides to settle with the thought that he had earlier. He finishes his snowball and aims it into the direction that he guesses the attack to have come from. "Stop that, K'ng Frost."

Jack's bending to scoop up another snowball when he hears his name and he freezes, the snow dropping from his fingers. The boy's snowball actually hits him, then, enough to knock him back a step in his startled state. "Well, 'King' is a new one, I've gotta admit." He says, as he brushes the snow off his jacket.

Rather than scooping up another snowball, this time he forms a snowflake between his fingers, and looks at the boy again, before blowing it towards him, the wind picking it up and carrying it to land on Björn's nose. "Do you actually believe in me, or are you just saying that?" He asks, stepping in closer, curious. If this boy does see him now, he'll be the oldest believer he's had so far.

Björn goes a bit cross-eyes as he tries to follow that oddly large, single snowflake that seems to head directly for his nose with his eyes. It came ou of nowhere, but the timing... is certainly odd. Hm.

He's gotten a bit old to look for gnomes in the sauna and is in a typical 15-year-old crisis with religion right now, but somehow forces of nature are a lot harder to doubt for him, and while Kung Bore is technically not a force of nature (though people might well have developed him from one... which. What was that that existed before? Like they created cyclopes to explain the skeletons of elephants that they found in the mediterranean...)

Hm. What if there is someone there, and that someone is really who he jokingly guessed that were there? He remembers wishing that the winter would come around the year that they moved, so he could look out for all the winter creatures that had shown up in the books, and him and Timo even tried to look out for them, but they had never found them. But then, nobody can be everywhere, and if one was to meet the King of the North Wind, this would probably be a better place than the inside of a warm bedroom or just outside of a house that is too poorly isolated to not radiate warmth even so.

Considering the entity (should it really be there. He feels a bit silly for his rekindled hope to finally meet one of the beings that he wanted to meet so hard as a child, secretly tried to look out for years, but... There is nobody here to see him if he makes a fool of himself. Right?) didn't react with force to the first three snowballs, another one should not hurt the situation. He picks up another ball - and then halts. No. That might still look like agression, and if he is really that close...

"If y' 're really there, throw one." He holds up the snowball, feeling foolish but kind of hoping against hope that this would happen because ten years late but who cares.

Jack tries to be patient. He can see that the boy is thinking. But really, at this point a child would have seen him already. Maybe he should just give up. But then again his belief base is already so tiny, even one more child (who isn't quite a child any more) would be a sizeable gain. He's not aiming for the world here, he doesn't want a big palace like Toothiana or Sandy's power, he just wants to, well. Be seen.

With a little, disappointed sigh he turns. He should let the boy go back before he freezes. But then the boy speaks again and hope warms Jack's heart, turning around on the spot again. "I'm right here!" He says, as he scoops up another snowball and throws it to knock the one that the boy is holding right out of his hand.

He will definitely need patience to deal with Björn - loyal, hardworking and carin as he might be, thinking on his feet is something that he only does when it is absolutely necessary. And when he doesn't have to make very complex decisions or doesn't think that thorough considerations are needed. Which is kind of both happening here.

It's over now, though, as the boy stares at his hand that is now empty. He was right. He must have been. How else could this...

But when he looks up, he doesn't see what he expected to see. At all. That guy - boy, really, they can't be very far apart in age... about Timo's age, most likely - doesn't look at all like the small drawings that they had in the books, or like the descriptions... but he did obviously react to the name, right?

Okay, and this is super awkward, but he just has to make sure, after a long hard stare doesn't answer his question. "Y' 're King Frost?" Or one of the other names, but that was what he used before, and thinking back it must have worked...

"Uh, well, I normally go by Jack Frost, but King'll do." Jack says, grinning. He can feel the warm buzz that only comes from being in the presence of a believer. He feels warm and wanted and alive and it's a wonderful feeling that he doesn't think he'll ever get used to, no matter how many people believe in him.

He scoops up another snowball and tosses it in his hand, a playful grin on his lips. "So do you have a name too?" Because, hey, a snowball fight is even more fun when the other party can see you, and it's been a while since he got to play with someone his own (apparent) age.

Blink. "Y' 're English?" Or at least 'Jack' seems to imply that, doesn't it? That or American.

Sorry, Jack, he is too baffled to play by this development, at least for the moment. He always thought that the personification of the winter and the northern wind and northern lights and so on would be from the north - northern Finland or Norway or Sweden, maybe Iceland or even Greenland (though now that he thinks about it, Siberia, Alaska and the northern parts of Canada work too, they just weren't on his mental map back then). To have them be English...

He switches to English, the language of movies and the internet coming to him easily. And remembers his manners, because his mother always tells him that it is rude to just stare and not do anything, so he tries his bad to not make a bad first impression. After all he has been wanting to meet this man - boy - almost-adult! (since that is what he himself is, ignore the part where he is talking to a children's story right now) for years.

A hand will be offered, and, picking his words carefully, not wanting to embarrass himself, he asks: "Björn. 's nice t' meet y'."

Jack snorts at the assumption, dropping the snowball and leaning on his staff. "American, actually." Seriously, he'd rather stand and talk than have a fight? That's a bit of a disappointment. Maybe this is why the others focus their attention on younger children.

Still, any believer is good, and that's why Jack leans in to take the boy's hand, with just a little bit of hesitation. He can't remember the last time he shook hands with someone like this. It must have been before he died - if he ever did at all. It's just then that he notices the boy's height. Honestly, he's more like North than a kid!

So he keeps the handshake brief, but grins as he pulls back. "So you like to ski? How do you feel about a race?" Not that Jack has skis, but he can always make himself an ice path to skate along. He just wants to play, okay?

Well, those are important questions! You can't just take his childhood and turn it upside down and then expect him to not ask questions. He simply nods at that, though; it's sufficient. Even though he wonders why someone like that would be from America (and he will just assume America proper, because most Alaskians that he knows speak of their state instead of their country)

The handshake will be firm but not unnecessarily long, and at the suggestion Björn nods and starts to stand back on his skis and fasten them to his shoes again. "'ren't racing skies." No skaters, that is. By which he means, he won't be nearly as fast as he could - but a good challenge is still nice and he will have lots of fun racing. Not that it will be all too visible.

And then he throws a pointed look at Jack's feet. He could totally imagine someone who is able to run around barefoot in the snow to be able to conjure skies out of thin air, but if he is planning on that, he should maybe do it soon.

"That's okay, neither are these." Jack grins as he wiggles his bare toes at Björn. But as he puts his foot back down the snow under his feet turns to ice, thick and solid and smooth, perfect for skating along. With his staff as well, Jack reckons they should at least be fairly even. Or at least, as even as a boy can be when racing Jack Frost in the snow. He could probably form ice skis if he wanted to, but he's never tried it before, and he's confident like this. If he did that, he'd have to learn to ski as well!

He puts an arms reach between them so that his ice doesn't get in the way of Björn's skis and stretches his back, staff holding him in place on the newly formed ice under his feet. "Ready?" He asks, grinning. It's been a long time since he raced someone who could race back.

Björn throws a questioning glance at the bare feet and the ice, trying to estimate the speed of the other but falling short because so many variables are lacking. He finally settles for just nodding.

It is odd - Jack feels like he's known him for a long time somehow, and at the same time like someone whom he... should not know. And then the thing about not having seen him until he knew that he was there... if he can, he might ask later.

But now they will race, and he will shortly nod towards his opponent. "Go!" And then use the disadvantagous traditional-and-not-skating skies to gain as much speed as possible.

Sample threads for Institute

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Swedish->English

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