Hope was like an Easter Egg, to Bunny's way of thinking.

Of course, the other Guardians would probably laugh and say that Bunny liked to compare everything to eggs, but that was beside the point.

So he had a theme, they all did. He didn't take it to any more extreme than the others did.

Eggs were strong. People didn't think of them that way, since a hit against a sharp surface or a quick blow could shatter them. But their shape meant most things slid off before it could deal damage, meant that they could stand more pressure than people would think they could.

Of course, if hopes were like eggs, that meant enough sharp blows or pressure could shatter them just as easily. And moon only knew this year had been enough to test even the strongest of eggs.

Bunny held up the egg he was painting, checking the swirls of color before letting it down to toddle off and join the others.

He could hear Jack in the distance, herding more of the eggs, getting them all separated into groups – some to get a coat in the glitter river, some for him to add swirls of frost to before getting another dunking in the color river, some ready for their journey to the surface and herded towards the tunnels.

That right there was a spirit with some strong hopes. He'd have to be, to still be so...so cheerful, to still have a center filled with fun and joy after three hundred years of being left to fend for himself. To still be able to accept them with as few hiccups and reluctance as he had.

So maybe he and Bunny hadn't hit things off on the right foot, but damn if Bunny wasn't proud of the show pony.

Bunny glanced at the egg he'd been painting, his paws moving on automatic while his mind wandered, unsurprised to find he'd painted it a soft blue before adding a sheen of glitter and a scatter of snowflakes. Perhaps not one of his usual spring designs, but given where his mind was going...well, it matched the purple and green, red and white, gold, and silver eggs.

Jack's hope really was like the little goggie, Bunny thought, turning it over in his paws. Surprisingly strong under all the pressure he'd been under, yet so very fragile.

Much like a lot of the children right now, he supposed.

Bunny picked up another egg to start painting. Might as well make this one reflect Katherine, he'd done all the other Guardians already. If he was going to unconsciously be a sap, might as well finish the set consciously and embrace it.

Things were rough out there right now. He could feel it, deep down inside (though he'd never say it was 'in his belly', come on North, try to take it seriously). Could feel bone deep just how frail hope was at the moment, how fear was taking over. That particular type of fear that mixed with boredom as everyone was trapped inside or in small yards, with nothing to do but be afraid and try and keep their spirits up however they could.

A few painted eggs weren't going to make that much of a difference this year, but making them show up where the anklebiters weren't expecting them? Not in fields or at egg hunts, but in bedrooms, playrooms?

And yes, some outside, because they needed an excuse to leave their homes, if it was at all safe. There were some who could, even if a lot of the kids couldn't

That he could do.

Even if it meant he had to hand paint twice as many as usual.

Because it was weak, but the hope was still there.

And with a little care, it would be stronger than ever before.

Sometimes hope was all the stronger for being under pressure. And if brightly colored eggs and sparkly lights were going to help, if Bunny could do the slightest thing to boost and strengthen those hopes for tomorrow, then he was going to see it got done, even if he had to paint all his brushes down to nubs to make it happen.