[No one can see him, not even himself. He forgot a long time ago what he looks like, and he wonders if anyone even remembers who he is. Not that he can exactly go and ask someone. He holds onto his cloak, digging his hands into the fine, intricately detailed fabric, more of a decoration than a barrier against the cold. Snow falls wherever he walks, sticking to the ground a bit longer than normal snow. He talks to himself to keep himself company, mostly commenting on anyone else he sees. The curse missed his voice, even if it silenced it from everyone else. Right now he follows someone carrying groceries.]

Heading home?

[No answer.]

People are talking that there could be a blizzard. [No they're not.] Sure that's enough if you're stuck in your...whatever you call what you live in?

[No answer.]

[So he tries harder. He talks and talks, about the mundane and the extraordinary, until without thinking, he gives one light tug to the bag, causing the person to drop it, ruining everything and making a mess. Jack laughs, loudly and a little wild. He feels a little guilty afterward, but no real harm done, right? Now that the distraction's over, his mood sours once again. He doesn't know what else to do, but what other choice does he have but to keep trying? The snow whips around him violently, as he wanders, looking for someone new to follow.]

[The island's mischief hasn't taken England's powers, but it has rather altered the way he's capable of using them.

Now, this scruffy little backwater wizard is living in a small shack near the edge of the forest, and while there's not much movement outside, occasionally puffs of coloured smoke can be seen rising from the chimney.

Should you happen to pass by the place you may hear muffled explosions and cursing. The door is unlocked and a little way ajar, and though the young wizard may not appreciate the intrusion.. don't let it stop you..]