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Easter day, there was only one thing on his mind. After the hectic two weeks of painting all his precious eggs, then hiding each and every one around the entire globe, he was tired. All the googies were now under the ownership of the anklebiters of the world, there wasn’t a disaster in sight all day, and his nest was calling ever-so sweetly.
Aster pushed aside the curtain over the entrance to his personal nesting room, his whole body thrown into a yawn that nearly unhinged his jaw. Blinking away his fatigue for a handful more steps, barely enough to remember to take off his bandolier and bracers before turning to his nest. Stopping in surprise, all he could do was blink. It wasn’t so much as his nest was different from what he left it, but more like what was on his nest.
“…Frostbite, is that you?” Aster asked, carefully circling the nest and its sleeping occupant, pillow firmly clutched between front hands- no, paws. Kneeling down, Aster took a deep whiff, his brows furrowed. It smelled like Jack, alright, but that was not what the winter sprite usually looked like.
“Mmm?” Cracking open one crystalline blue eye, Jack looked up at Aster’s shocked face and shot the older guardian his signature crooked smile. “Oh, hey Aster. How was Easter?”
“Good. You, uh…?” Sitting back on his haunches, He gave room for Jack to sit up, one long white ear flopping into his face.
“Oh, this?” Jack gestured to himself with one paw and brushed the errant ear out of his face. “How do I look? Did I get everything right?” The subject had come up before, that pure spirits, particularly spirits connected with nature, had transient physical forms. They looked exactly like they wanted to look like since they weren’t connected with a physical body. It’s just most decided to remain as close to their original appearance as possible. It had been quite the interesting conversation, seeing as they had started off by talking to a friend of Jack’s that had taught him that fact when he was nearly a ‘newborn’ spirit. Apparently, the boy had a few forms that he enjoyed, but they had never seen any of them.
“Y’look good, Frostbite.” Bunny choked out, a look in his eye that had Jack frowning (cutely, Aster thought absently) before sitting up properly.
“Do you want me to change back?” His ears pressed back, readying to leave the nest to Aster after the bunny’s rejection.
“No!” Aster started, holding his hands up to grab the boy, stopping himself at the last moment. “No, its fine. You just surprised me.” He took his hands back, not touching the boy unless he initiated contact first. They had all learned that three hundreds of not a single soul actually touching you did things. Taking a fortifying breath, Aster slowly raised a hand and hovered barely a finger width over Jack’s snowy head, maintaining eye contact the entire time. After a moment, Jack blinked and raised his head enough to initiate contact. “I thought that you could only do animals you knew well that lived in the cold climates.”
It was more of a question and Jack treated it as such, shrugging as Aster gently brought forward an ear to study it closer. “It’s easier to do animals that I know well, but I could do a parrot or elephant if I really wanted to. I actually based this one partially on the Arctic hares.”
Aster nodded, so that explained the pure white pelt, sans the black tips on his ears. “Your first try?” Jack nodded and tried to relax while Aster was scrutinizing his transformation. The Pooka had yet to actually let go of his ear, and was actually rubbing his thumb absently in the short hairs along the back. With his other hand, he ran his fingers through the thick winter coat with a thoughtful frown. Seeing Jack as a Pooka cemented some things that he had absently known since the first time he had run across the kit- kid! Child all those years ago. First, he was young. In this form, he had a wonderful winter coat, but it was still mostly made of soft baby hairs with only the occasional adult guard hair. Had he grown up as a Pooka, he would have been considered an adult within the next few seasons, after his adult guards and personal markings grew in.
Running his hand over Jack’s ruff and torso, he realized just how skinny the boy was, damn near gaunt with starvation and Aster bit back a mournful whine. While spirits could change shape, their relative body structure stayed the same: if they were obese, they would always be comparatively obese. And equally as skinny, or muscular, healthy or malformed as they were in their original body. If it would have done anything, he would have sat Jack down for a proper meal right then and there. Taking Jack’s hand, he gently pulled the boy from the nest. “Stand up straight for me.” Jack did so, wobbling on strange legs and holding Aster’s arm in a death grip. Not including his ears, Jack’s changed form only gained him… around two finger width’s worth of height and Aster had to chuckle at that. The boy was certainly a runt of a Pooka.
Biting back his own yawn, Jack settled back onto his haunches in a posture he was used to in nearly every form he had experimented with. “Sorry, first transformations are hard.” Aster grunted in agreement, settling into a three-point stance himself. He didn’t use it often, but transformation was a necessary skill for all kits to learn before they left the home nest, and they tended to wipe him out as well. Stretching, Aster all but fell into his nest face-first before curling up into a loose ball. “So, uh… I guess I should leave you alone now?” Jack made to leave, grabbing his hoodie from where he had it folded in a corner.
Grunting, Aster watched Jack make for the door, “And just where are you going, Frost?”
“Back north,” he replied loosely with a shrug, “Or south, since I’m here. Find someplace to sleep for the summer.”
“Here.” Bunny said, point-blank. “I disturbed your sleep first, so get your bloomin’ arse back to the nest already.”
Jack froze, not daring to see if Bunny’s expression met his last sentence. “Now, Frost. I’m tired.” Slumping with as much theatrics as he could muster that time of year, Jack finally turned around, using the front paw not holding onto his sweater in a three-point hop-walk to slink back to the nest, crawling in behind Aster and curling up on the very edge. With a huff, Aster rolled over quicker than Jack could anticipate and grabbed the youngling, pulling him back over Aster and into the center of the nest, despite his squawk of surprise and flailing. Aster held him close, ignoring the flailing limbs that weren’t making a single strike on the larger body until he calmed and somewhat settled. Making a mental note to teach Jack how to use his Pooka body accurately come fall, if the boy wanted to, Aster Adjusted his grip and curled around the boy. He would happily pretend that Jack was a kit, a younger brother, at least for the night and protect him as instinct demanded: by curling over and around the kit, to defend from the weather and predators.
Settling down with a quiet huff, Jack absently carded at Aster’s ruff as his eyes slid shut. It was incredibly warm, being held by the elder guardian like this; warm and protected. He felt a few licks to his forehead before Aster rubbed his chin on the crown of his head, marking the boy. He knew it was more instinct-driven than conscious thought, but Jack smiled and gave a few more scratches back in thank you. “G’night Aster.”
The Pooka froze for a moment before giving Jack’s crown another cleaning lick. “Night, Jack.” And with that, they both settled down for a nap. While one’s would last a good week, the other would claim the nest for the rest of the summer, though the one didn’t mind. Sometimes it was nice to have a bedmate every once in a while and pretend that they weren’t as alone as it seemed.