For Pitch-- well, there are many things one could gift to the boogeyman, most of which North is sure would not be appreciated.
So. Black silk pillow, gold trim and tassels. No fuss or embroidery on the silk, but it's been stuffed plump and soft. North's left it out where he knows Pitch will see it and understand that it's for him.
A bare bedframe is a sad state of affairs, after all.
Pitch feels him there.
The warmth in his domain. The light it brings and the chill. Not so cold as Jack Frost though. A thankful state of affairs. He had underestimated the young spirit once.
Never again would he do so.
Only when the old cossak has moved on does he emerge. Staring with a sneer at the object. Reaching down to scoop it up in fingers too long too thing too bony-
Gold and black nails turn the pillow slowly as he descends. Nightmares gathering around him with soft wickers of interest. He shoos them away with a wave. Settling into the hammock like cradle of his throne. Propping his cheek on curved fingers. Eyes the color of a Lion, of a shark or a perhaps neither or both at once blink slowly.
An offering? How odd... Well at least he remembered Pitch disliked frivolous things. The pillow will end up on a long dark stone bench. An onyx harp with moon silk colored strands. Under the ink dark stone there is a flash like hidden gold.
