Merry and Bright Advent Challenge | Prompts 1-8

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A wizened face peered out from under a wedge of a black hat, which was the only thing on his otherwise bald and mottled scalp, save for a sparse fringe of white hair. His eyes were heavily lidded and weighed down with wrinkled folds that it was almost like talking to someone asleep, yet he was quite alert. Not seeing Enna beneath the level of the counter, she nudged forward a little further.

“One youth admission, sir?” Enna asked, her pigtails bouncing as she tilted her head.

She’d been expecting the croak of old age, but his voice was more like a sergeant major, strong and distinctly upper class.

“Enna, that you?”

“Yes, sir,” the young girl stepped forward, dusting the last of the snow from the shoulders of her jacket, clutching a backpack and a plastic bag in the opposite hand. “Mrs Sparks just dropped me off for the weekend. I brought some Christmas decorations.” She held up the bag.

“Decorations?” the man scoffed, getting out of his lounge chair with a grunt and the creaking of old joints. “We have no need for decorations here.”

“But it’s nearly the holidays. Of course we must decorate,” Enna exclaimed with a grin still in need of two front teeth. She dumped her backpack off in the kitchen and skipped into the living room to meet her adoptive grandfather.

The map of wrinkles on his face told the most incredible journey. His eye lines told of laughter, of warm smiles, and affection, and they deepened when seeing the little girl. His forehead told of worries past and worries present, though they all smoothed over when looking at her as she dug through her bag, pulling out Santa figurines ornaments, and a wreathe, scattering them all out over the living room floor for him to see.

He looked over each one and inspected with care. “You pick these out yourself?”

“Well, mostly. Mrs Sparks helped.”

“She’s your mother, Enna.”

A shrug pinched the blonde curls against her neck. “I guess, but not for real.”

“For very real.”

Again, a shrug.

“This is the best one of all,” Enna said, pulling the fake mistletoe from the bottom of the bag. “It’s mistletoe! This one is modeled after American mistletoe, it’s a hemiparesitic plant.”

The old man chuckled, looking to the mistletoe she held up by a red ribbon around the plastic stems. “I don’t know what that means. You’re too smart for me.”

Enna’s gapped grin widened. “They’re poisonous to us, did you know that?”

“No, I don’t reckon I did.”

“The most important thing about them is that when you go under them, you have to kiss the person you’re with. Like this!”

She skipped over, reaching up on her tippy-toes to put the mistletoe over the old man’s head, before leaning forward and pecking him on the cheek.

The old man’s eyes twinkled and he laughed from deep within his belly. “I see. That is very nice, Enna. What else you have here?”

“Mmm… Mrs Sparks picked out the wreath. I picked out the Santa statue. I like his reindeer.”

“She’s your mum.”

“She was my teacher first,” Enna explained, rolling her head to glance up at the old man.

“You can call her whatever you decide, but I’d reckon she sees you as a daughter, not a student.”

Enna blew air through her lips, making a babbling noise as she wrung the plastic vines of mistletoe between her fingers.

“Being adopted doesn’t mean you’re loved less. Someone loved you enough to pick you out special from all the others.” He clapped a hand on the girl’s shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. “Just think about it, but in the end, it’s your decision to make what you want to call her.”

“Can I call you grandpa?” Enna asked.

“Of course you can, Enna-bear. Now, we’re we going to hang up that mistletoe?”

“You’re all the mad and none of the scientist,” Levi said as he swung into the lab door, propping himself up against the frame and folding his arms.

One legged kicked out, hooking around the other and a stupid, sly smirk at the edges of his lips. The industrial lights overhead painted him in dark shadows in some places, and patches of blinding white in others, desaturating the olive skin to a milky white shade.

I barely glanced up from my computer monitor, my eyes peering over the rim of my goggles as I paused the clicking of my mouse.

“Come on, Vi! It’s Christmas Eve… nine o’clock… what you still doing here, anyways?”

“One, work doesn’t just stop because it’s a holiday. Two, I need to make sure this system suit passes. Three…”

Levi groaned aggressively through my speech, going louder each time I attempted to talk over him until I was drowned out in the beeping of equipment and incessant grunts.

“I hear no good reasons yet!” he exclaimed between grunts, and when I tried to argue, he mumbled louder once more until I rolled my eyes and returned my gaze to my monitor.

“Good god, Vi. I don’t think I could disapprove of you less than I do now. It’s Christmas! Go home!”

“I was trying to tell you that I can’t…”

And more moans. Levi’s head lolled back and rolled back and forth, bellowing out like some dying animal.

“You took a hard left at mildly annoying, and never came back,” I shouted over the grousing and the beeping.

“If you don’t leave right now, I’m going to pull the fire alarm.”

“That’s a federal offense, buddy. I’ll call the cops and put you in jail.”

“You wouldn’t,” he taunted.

“I would,” I shot back, pushing my goggles back up my nose.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Try me.”

His eyes danced towards the fire alarm pull, fingers wiggling on the opposite bicep, but he didn’t move to unfold his arms.

“I can’t do it.”

“I knew you wouldn’t. Now get outta here and leave me alone.”

“You’re a Grinch, Vi.”

“I thought you said I was mad?”

“A mad Grinch.”

“Go home, Levi.”

“Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas to you, too.”

He swung out the door, whistling as he disappeared down the dark hallway, the door clicking shut behind him and the beeping of instruments filling the silence left behind.
 
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Frost

Winter became more bitter as the season drew on with cold air like knives in each inhalation. The Glassy Sea did not help the frigid air, furthering it to annoyance that nipped at Lannya’s nose with the wind that carried her sails. She wasn’t much for sailing, but she preferred to travel alone these days. The World was ending, and the burden of knowning weighed her weary soul, yet also focused it.

There were a few islands off Eversyth’s coast, none of which were her destination. She would have to sail half a day in the grueling Winter mist that swirled about the air. It was, indeed, far warmer than it felt back home, yet it didn’t feel like it at all. The moisture from the sea spray coupled with the water in the air drenched through her blankets and robes rendering them useless in retaining heat and making her quite the grumpy traveler.

By the time the elf reached the shores of the island she sought she was in an ill mood. Lannya grumbled as she secured her little boat to the dock and swore she would explode if her trip proved pointless. “Lives are at stake,” she muttered to herself as she fastened the knot, “and I have to deal with Mr. Brood. Whose idea was this?”

She gathered the weight of her dampened robes in hand to better hike up the hill towards the lighthouse, silver hair sticking to her form like a waterfall. “Oh,” she said to herself again, “it was my idea, of course.”

A chuckle escape her, the act calming her and relieving her of her sullen disposition entirely. The Edler was there for a great purpose, but had a limited time to fulfill the need. Her children were waiting for her, after all, and she promised to be back before Winterwyst to decorate.

The lighthouse jutted from the wooded rock in a spire of light that pierced through the mists. She felt some comfort knowing Thannel still kept the light going after all this time. How long had it been?

Age was finally taking its toll on the old elf as she felt her bones creak. It worried her from time to time. She had lived for so long, since before the Sundering and beyond. She had seen the first World Tree grow and felt the first burst of magic in her soul. And she was all that was left of her people now. No one but she knew how long she had walked the lands of Estyr. Hardly anyone knew the World by its name.

By the time Lannya reached the garden path, Thannel stood outside under the lattice awning. Branches of a rose bush, barren and grey from the toll of Winter, were woven in and out of the lattice that wreathed the frosted frame of the Vuaturi elf stoically staring at his visitor with his one good eye.

“It’s been a while since an Elder has graced me,” he said to her. She felt his natural chill upon approach from his attunement, and as cold as his demeanor was portraying, he ushered the drenched woman inside his home to dry off.

“I know you told me you wanted to be left alone,” she began. The Elder attempted to keep as stoic as he, fighting against the tremors from the cold as the contrast of the warmth inside only furthered her plight in such saturated and heavy fabrics. Thannel quickly pilfered through a trunk, removing the first articles of clothing he could find along with a few quilts. She graciously took the garments in hand, and changed behind the privacy of a partition only to continue on their conversation without pause.

“There’s a sickness going around among Estwynd,” she continued. “It’s only affecting the elves, from what I am finding. Have you at all been feeling sick?”

“Nothing of note apart from a cold in Autumn,” he replied.

“It would be more severe in symptoms than that,” she said. “Our people are dying from it.”

“What does this have to do with me?” he asked with far too much apathy laden in his tone. It was a purposeful application; a tactic to try and have her see this all as a lost cause. Now dressed in dry clothes, she walked over to the fire with sternness evident, bright eyes like the steel of a blade.

“I refuse to believe you don’t care,” she said.

“I don’t-“

“You should. May I have a seat?” Lannya motioned to one of the plush chairs next to the fire and hoped he would not remove himself from her presence. Thannel at least still respected her to some degree as he did not refuse her stay. A slight nod was all he gave in permission, and Lannya gladly sat in relief. She made more of a deal about the ache in her bones than usual, a soft appreciative groan escaping her as she sat and relaxed.

And just as wanted, it caused concern in the Vuaturi as he watched the eldest known elf in all of Estyr, a woman known for her energy and vibrancy and agility, come to find aching in her bones. He sat himself across from her in disbelief and skepticism. “Are you dying from the sickness?” he asked hesitantly.

“Yes,” she answered plainly. “There’s no cure, Thannel. But we can stop it from spreading and killing us all. I need you for this.”

“I do not have the same influence as you,” he said, and frustratedly sat back in his seat. “Are you just trying to get me off this island again? I don’t want to go.”

The Thannel that fought next to Dragon Wardens and faced Wallace Savere would not have questioned the call for aid. He had left his own people then, willingly placing himself into exile for the greater good. The ring around his finger was the only marker to show he held some part of his past close to his heart. She wouldn’t use that against him, but it did give her hope that maybe with some time he would reconsider, especially with explanation.

“Do you remember when I told you about the World Tree?” she asked. His eye looked away as he nodded. “That discovery was exciting at first. It was as if a part of my past felt whole again. But I’ve been having visions like the Shae, and now I’m seeing the discovery was more a cry for help.”

“You’re having visions?” he asked looking back over at the Elder. She nodded in the same way he had moments before, her eyes looking over to the fire.

“The World Tree is dying from Shadow Magic,” she explained. “The use of it is vastly growing and spreading across every continent like never before. Humans are turning a blind eye to it in ignorance. I need you to come with me to a summit in Thallas to help explain the dangers of the Cabal.”

“I know nothing of a Cabal,” Thannel stated.

“You do,” she assured. “The woman that looked through your mind in the fog. Do you remember? You had told me of it anyway, and I never forget. Her kind are behind the rise of Shadow Magic. They’ll do whatever it takes.”

“The humans hate us,” he reminded bitingly. “Why would they give us audience?”

“Malan will.”

Her statement elicited a scoff from Thannel that heaved from his chest. A Darkness was cast across his features, his head turning so that all Lannya could see was the locks of white hair that sheltered the lifeless and scarred eye. He didn’t bother to cover it anymore like he used to. Then again, he didn’t seem to entertain company much anymore.

She didn’t continue, her studying gaze watching him as she sensed words upon his lips. Each breath urged them forward in the soft rise and fall of his chest until his lips finally parted. “Tell me what you have seen, then,” he said. She knew those words were not the ones that haunted him even in that moment.

“King Malan is not like his father was,” she said. “I don’t know why exactly, but I have seen us gathered in his hall. Your insight is what inspires him to act with us and help our people.”

“Just relay what you saw me say in your vision,” he responded apathetically.

“It doesn’t work like that.” Lannya frowned and sat back in her seat frustratedly. His childishness brought out her own in kind. There was more to it all she could never tell him, for it would deter him completely. The world needed him more than she could let on.

“I’ll need to think on it, Elder Lannya,” he said with distance. “This lighthouse needs to run. You’ve seen how grey it can get out here.”

“You know I can send capable soldiers to man the lighthouse while you’re away,” she reminded as she tried to hold back her hope. “Do you still have your ravens?”

“I do.”

“When you’ve come to a decision, send one my way,” she said. “Even if it is a no. For now, perhaps we can share a bit of tea?”

Thannel looked over at the Elder, and for once he thought he could see her age. He rose from his chair with a thoughtful nod. “Of course,” he said dutifully. His heart was too heavy to continue the conversation anyway.
 
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I’m sitting at the window, waiting for Piper.

Snowfall has already come twice this year and it’s starting once again. I love watching it flutter and swirl into the dark pristine canvas of the night, pure and fragile, but not without its own innocent but deadly power.

This year will be Piper’s first Christmas on this side of things. We’ve had such fun exploring and sharing all the holidays of the year so far. The child in him calls to the hidden child in me. People think we’re having an affair. Of course, they do. We’ve become close. We start to grin like idiots when we catch sight of each other. It’s such a joy to find a kindred spirit--and one with such a pure heart.

My nickname around here is Poe. Yeah, really. After I started working with two gentlemen whose names were Edgar and Allan, I suppose the joke was irresistible. Among friends and co-workers, I don’t mind. I never used my birth name after the age of 18. I’ve gone by the pseudonym of R.S. Briar for some while now.

I am not one of many who travel home for the holidays. And among who's left, no one will be missing me.

Christmas? My family didn’t like to make a fuss. We occasionally appeared at the local church (due to the strident nagging of my mother to make a respectable showing in the community). My father, half-asleep and uncaring, would be left alone to slump in a back pew, occasionally softly muttering an unintelligible response to some eucharistic passage. My brothers, peacock-heady with their own existence, would swagger to the front, hair slicked down, clothes immaculate for at least a few hours.

I, the daughter, would be ushered away with some other quietly resentful and mainly heretical young ladies. Herded up to the cold and splintery wooden seats of an ancient choir loft, raining down less than dulcet tones upon an indifferent congregation.

Hardly something to arouse my enthusiasm for the holiday. But I had other things to focus on.

As usual, I began to hazily recover my lineage memories in childhood.

Year after year, reminding nudges flooded gently into my consciousness. It was not something frightening; on the contrary, it made me stronger, calmer and more balanced. I became again familiar with all I had once known, experienced, or studied in my previous lives. Shamanism, astral planes, thought forms, esoteric practices of the far East, and more. My reading choices (never a secret when you check out books from a small town library or the local school) painted me as a very odd little girl. Even scary. But that was just prejudice. I was not dangerous. Yet.

Eventually, I reached into full recall. It is never an easy thing. To refuse to open the door would be to forever live a half-life. Indeed, some would be happy with that. But I was still burning to fly, whether my wings would bear me up or not.

I didn’t abandon everything to forge a new path. I’m still a creature of this world, when all is said and done.

There are many traditions, that, no matter what their origin or religious significance, are very pleasing to the many, especially when shared with others of like inclination.

Christmas carols, exchanging presents, a Yule log, a kissing ball. Reindeer that fly across the moon, a rainbow dance of lights, and hanging stars on a fir tree.

My friend, Piper, being half-sprite and recently arrived here, is eager to experience things he has only heard rumors of. Despite being hundreds of years older than me, he’s such a child! And such a delight to play with.

I know the gossips would love to find out that we’re having a sleepover tonight at my house (an ancient, creaking edifice that I was miraculously able to buy for cheap on a government program some years ago. No one else wanted to pay the utility bills for the monstrosity, I suppose. I'll be making payments forever!).

Tomorrow is Piper’s birthday. We want to celebrate that as soon as we open our eyes. I’ll make breakfast (Piper is still too much of an experimental chef to count on him actually getting something edible put on the table!) and we’ll make snow angels in the backyard just to begin with.

He’s late tonight.

It’s almost midnight. And he hasn’t called. That’s not his style, at all.

I find myself worrying. I hope nothing's wrong. He’s been quiet about why he and his friends are here and it’s not my business to pry. But I’m getting a strong feeling that maybe I should.


I fall asleep on the couch. (I waited up, but the birthday boy never arrived.)

In the early dark of morning I awake with a jolt. I was dreaming of Piper running towards me as if running for his life; the feeling of urgency as sharp and real as a blast of arctic wind.

Alarmed, heart thumping, I jump up instantly, tying the sash of my long blue robe.

The embers in the fireplace still glow. It’s dead quiet outside except for the occasional rustle of trees. My black cat, Empedocles (“Imp” for short), claws at my leg imperiously, demanding food.

In the chilly antiquated kitchen I smack down a can of food for Imp, listening with more than just my sense of hearing. Closing my eyes, I reach out, scanning the immediate area, straining to find the signature energy that means “Piper” to me.

There! My eyes snap open. I’m sure it’s him, though I still haven’t perfectly honed all my old skills. Moving rapidly; not alone. A sense of danger, but vague. Not under immediate attack, then.

These things flash through my mind as I run to the back door, through the kitchen. Piper, if it is him, is cutting around the property, coming through the woods—perhaps to hide his trail? Tense with anticipation, I fling open the door just as he reaches for it.

His moss-green eyes are overbright and hectic, face flushed, his breath coming in pants. Since Piper is not easily tired, he must have been running very fast or for a very long distance or both.

He’s not alone. Obviously, there’s been trouble. These are the faces of individuals looking for refuge, not a party. I recognize his four companions.

Piper tried to keep us from crossing paths. They make it a point to brush up against me when Piper’s not around. As if to warn me off! After a few such meetings it became interestingly apparent to me that each had very strong, separate, elemental affinities.

Therefore, they were chosen for a purpose.

The wolfishly attractive Tash has a strong connection to earth. Confident of his physical skills, his wicked golden eyes light up at the scent of a challenge. He has light brown skin and messy, spiky brown hair woven through with random strands of silver that have nothing to do with age. Supple and strong, his self-assured, forceful presence announces him as a fighter before he opens his big mouth.

But whatever the conflict is—it seems it’s meant to be fought with magic, not physical strength.

The haughtily beautiful Calpa is definitely water’s creature. Appearing to be in his mid-twenties, he is probably the oldest--that is, ancient. (The power I sense from him is seriously scary!) Very tall, sleekly muscular, ivory-skinned, with waist-length black hair, his dark eyes are unfathomable. He may appear so self-absorbed as to be unaware of his surroundings, but he can flash from remote to icily threatening in a heartbeat.

Sionnach’s element is fire. He’s a graceful fox with carnelian-colored hair flowing in soft waves past his shoulders, garnet-brown eyes glinting with mischievous mockery under arching black brows and a voice like silk. Self-indulgent, crafty, curious, and easily bored. He plays at seduction, often flaunting his gorgeous body, but he’s too confident for it to be vanity and too proud for random promiscuity. Merely, it amuses him to tease or shock. He’s dangerous and unpredictable but since he enjoys games, not totally unapproachable.

Elegant, lissome Alarc is a creature of air. Shoulder-length white-blonde hair, porcelain skin, far-away crystal blue eyes in a delicately-chiseled face--he looks like he could blow away before your very eyes. Obviously a noble, he’s the most courteous of Piper’s companions, though that’s not saying much. I’m guessing he outranks the others, even though he has the least dominant personality. I have a sense of him as fragile and lost, carrying the burden of some terrible sadness.

Finally there’s Piper, who pulls them all together--the shining crown of the five-pointed star, evoking pure spirit. But … the seven-pointed star is known as the fairie star. Are they missing two comrades? Or recruiting? Or do I misguess?

At the moment my stalkers stand at my threshold; proud, wary faces masked in haughtiness. Unwilling to beg. Eyes averted.

Piper scrunches up his face, as if thinking what to say. I pull him inside, letting him know with a soft half-hug that there is no need to apologize or explain. I motion broadly for his comrades to come in as well.

Since I’m certain they’ve never approved of my existence or my friendship with Piper, I add a little insurance.

“Cross my threshold as friends and thus be welcome,” I invite, hiding a smile. Sometimes intent is everything.

While their poker faces reveal nothing, they waste no time in entering the kitchen while slapping the snow from their garments. (The proud bastards must be in real trouble if they’re accepting shelter from me.) I shut the door softly behind them.

I’m certain Piper’s not supposed to explain the situation, so I play it dumb.

“I’m so glad you came to celebrate Piper’s birthday and spend the holidays,” I chirp as I usher them into the living room. “Breakfast will be ready soon. Do make yourself at home while I fetch some heated towels and could someone please build another fire? Later, I’ll show you to your rooms.”

Piper stares at me like I’ve lost my mind.

“Yeah, I could eat,” drawls Tash, but not yet meeting my eyes. There’s some throat-clearing and shuffling about from the others.

Piper pulls at the sleeve of my robe and draws me aside as his friends pretend not to watch. “You have the wards up?” he asks anxiously.

“All day, every day,” I chirp.

He starts to say more, but I pinch him into silence. I’m tired of the skullduggery that makes Piper look unhappy and worried. I have serious holiday plans for these losers!
 
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It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas
By PrincessLala95
Disclaimer: This is a WWE fanfiction. Brock Lesnar is not my character. This will also eventually (probably on Christmas) be posted to my WWE fanfiction Tumblr account, with a link back to this page. I just love this prompt challenge sooo much, but it just doesn't feel right to use them for stories on Tumblr and not post them here, haha.

Sunlight streamed in through the window of Valerie’s hotel room. She always left the curtains open to enjoy the moonlight’s soft embrace, and last night had been no different. This morning, though, was different. This morning started out normal: Valerie got out of bed, grabbed her fuzzy purple robe off the chair beside her bed, and bundled herself up. Her room was at a comfortable temperature despite the cold outside. As she walked to the window, though, she saw that the city below was looking quite different from how she’d left it. This morning, the city was covered with a blanket of snow.

Valerie let out a delighted laugh, clapping her hands together. She loved the first snowfall of the year, and despite being on the road this year, she was determined to find a way to enjoy it anyways, even if she had to go out into the arena parking lot at midnight after their show to make a small army of snow angels.

She hurried to get ready, eagerly singing Christmas songs throughout her shower and thinking about all the fun she was going to have in the snow. It had already been bitterly cold, so she'd packed for the Winter weather despite not realizing that the snow was on its way. She got dressed quickly, putting on jeans, winter boots, her heavy jacket, and a matched purple set containing mittens, a bulky scarf, and a toque with a large pompom on top. Grabbing her purse and her gym bag, she hurried out of the hotel room.

Valerie was all but bouncing with excitement as she got into the elevator. It was a relief that she was alone, since she wasn't sure she was able to contain her joy. The doors were almost closed when an arm suddenly reached in, stopping the doors and causing them to slide open again. Valerie's blue eyes widened in surprise as one of her coworkers, Brock Lesnar, stepped into the elevator. He gave her a brief nod but said nothing, and Valerie bit her lip, glancing away. She'd always been attracted to Brock, even before she'd started working for WWE, so sharing an elevator with him filled her tummy with butterflies.

The elevator headed downwards, filled with an uncomfortable silence. Brock was also carrying his gym bag, and he wore a camo coat with plain black gloves and a black hat. Twice, she glanced his way and was surprised when she met his piercing blue eyes, only to look quickly away each time. When the elevator reached the lobby and the doors opened, she hesitated, but he didn't move.

"Go ahead," he said finally, the first words he'd spoken to her since entering the elevator. Part of her suspected they were the first words he'd ever spoken to her, though some other part of her was certain they'd talked at the arena before.

"Oh, um - I - uhh, okay," she stammered shyly, feeling her cheeks going bright red before hurrying out of the elevator. She heard a faint chuckle behind her as he got out, but she didn't dare look back. She felt like a mess, and no way did she want him seeing her falling all over herself like this.

When she reached the front door of the hotel, though, all her embarrassed butterflies went away, replaced by a new feeling: joy. The snow was laid thickly over the ground, and her heart all but skipped a beat when she saw it. She couldn't wait to go out and play.

Merry Birthmas
By PrincessLala95
Disclaimer: This is a WWE fanfiction. Brock Lesnar is not my character.

"Birthmas?!?"

Valerie giggled slightly as she heard the explosion coming from the next room over. She already knew exactly what was going on: the SHIELD was discussing their plans for Dean Ambrose's birthday. His birthday would fall on Thursday night, in less than a week, and they were disagreeing heavily on what to do. Roman Reigns was determined that they should do something special for Dean's brother, but Seth Rollins was insistent that they could just combine Christmas with Dean's birthday to make Birthmas.

"I mean, it's not like he does anything special for our birthdays!" Seth was saying as the three of them wandered into the catering area, where Valerie was sitting with a couple of the other women wrestlers. "They're three days apart, but we only do one dinner in the middle!"

"Combining birthdays isn't the same as combining Christmas with a birthday though, man," Roman said, shaking his head. "We've gotta do something for Dean's birthday. Besides, Christmas is two and a half weeks later - that's a way bigger difference than three days!"

Quietly, not wanting to disturb their conversation or accidentally get dragged in, Valerie stood up and walked over to the buffet table with her plate. Brock Lesnar was standing there, and she felt her heart pounding as she came closer. She couldn't stop thinking about their interaction - however brief - in the elevator the previous day. She was almost there when the SHIELD boys suddenly turned their attention to her.

"Val!" said Dean, and she turned around, startled.

"Don't drag me into this!" she said, her blue eyes wide.

"Come on, tiebreaker here," said Seth. "Do we do birthmas for Dean or nah?"

Val sighed, setting her plate down on the table and putting her hands on her hips. "Seth, Dean's birthday isn't even anywhere near Christmas. If it was like Luke or Cesaro and it was close to Christmas, I'd totally understand doing birthmas. My dad's birthday is on the twenty-third and I'm pretty guilty of doing birthmas for him, but Christmas is more than half a month after Dean's birthday and he deserves an actual birthday dinner or laser tag or whatever it is you guys do."

"See!" exclaimed Roman, turning to Seth. Seth groaned, but nodded.

"Fine," he said. "But we'd better do laser tag."

"I hadn't even thought about laser tag," Dean said as the trio began to walk away. Val sighed, shaking her head as she picked up her plate and returned her attention to the food.

"I'm so glad my birthday is in July," came a low voice from beside her. Val glanced up and saw Brock peering down at her, an amused smile on his lips.

"I'm glad Halloween's not as big a deal as Christmas," Val replied with a small, albeit nervous, smile.

"Your birthday is on Halloween?" he asked, raising an eyebrow curiously.

"No, no, but it's a week before," Val replied quickly, feeling a redness come across her cheeks again. Brock nodded slowly, not saying anything for a moment.

"Huh..." he said finally, and then wandered off with his plate of food. Val quietly watched him go, frowning slightly, until her friends called her name to get her attention. She quickly grabbed some food and hurried back to her table. A few minutes after sitting down, she glanced across the room towards Brock and was startled when their eyes met. She held his gaze for a few long moments before, chickening out like she had the previous day in the elevator, she looked away.

Green
By PrincessLala95
Disclaimer: This is a WWE fanfiction. Brock Lesnar is not my character.

Her arm looped through the arms of her besties Alexa Bliss and Nia Jax, Valerie was headed towards the seamsters' area to get her ring gear for her match that night. She rarely wore the same gear more than once or twice, so every show she had to go see the new stuff they had for her. Her favourite tailor was grinning from ear to ear when the trio approached.

"Val!" he said, sounding excited. "I've got something really great for you tonight!"

"Sure, let's see!" Valerie replied with a grin, letting go of her friends. The tailor turned around, picking up the garment bag off the table and unzipping it. The moment it was opened, though, Valerie's face fell.

"What do you think?"

Stylistically, it resembled most of her usual ring gears. All of her preferred elements were there, including the glitter, but there was just one detail that she wasn't too keen on.

"Uhh...it's very green...?"

"Exactly!" the tailor exclaimed, grinning. "I figured we'd get you in the Christmas spirit this month, so I've got some red and green designs planned for you!"

"Um..." Valerie went quiet for a moment. She'd never been a huge fan of green. Red was something she could do for Christmas. Her usual ring gears were in shades of pink, purple, and blue. Green, though? Green just wasn't in her colour wheel.

"Just go try it on," said Nia, putting a hand on Valerie's shoulder. "Try it on and then come back and we'll see what you think when you actually see it."

"Fine, fine," Valerie replied, taking the outfit and hurrying off.

It took Valerie a few minutes to muster up the courage to leave the dressing room, feeling quite uncomfortable when she saw herself, in the green gear, reflected in the mirror. She really didn't like the colour, though Alexa and Nia both clapped as she came out.

"Girl! You look great!" Nia said.

"That colour makes your eyes pop!" said Alexa, and Valerie frowned, looking down at herself.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Yes!" Nia said. "We promise. We wouldn't lie to you!"

Valerie looked up, and her blue eyes suddenly went wide as she saw Brock Lesnar rounding the corner with his manager, Paul Heyman. She all but froze, and her friends both slowly turned to see what she was looking at. Smirks began to spread across their lips.

"Please don't," Valerie hissed.

"Brock! Paul! Mind settling a debate for us?" asked Alexa. The men exchanged a curious look and then wandered over.

"What seems to be the trouble?" Paul asked, eyeing the three women curiously.

"Does Valerie's ring gear for tonight look good?" Alexa asked, grabbing Valerie and all but shoving her forwards. She could feel her face going beet red, and she smiled awkwardly up at Brock.

"Of course it does," Paul replied.

"Brock?" asked Nia, looking towards the other man. Brock nodded, his eyes locked on Valerie.

"Yeah, it looks really good," he said. Before anyone else could say anything, though, a crew member came hurrying up and all but grabbed Valerie's arm. As he approached, Brock and Paul walked off.

"Val, come on, you're up next," he said. Valerie looked at her friends, a wide grin on her face.

"I love this gear," she whispered before hurrying off with the crew member. There was a slight skip in her step. Nia and Alexa smirked as they watched her go, folding their arms over their chests.

"So...are we going to remind her that Lesnar's red-green colourblind..?" asked Nia in a low voice.

"No. No, we're not," Alexa replied firmly.

Wrapped With A Bow
By PrincessLala95
Disclaimer: This is a WWE fanfiction. Brock Lesnar is not my character.

"No! Crap! Come back!"

Valerie darted through the open hotel room door and rushed into the hallway, panic filling her as she chased the squealing miniature pig down the hall. How was she supposed to know that Larry-Steve would object to having a little red bow wrapped around his neck? She'd thought that Alexa would think it was adorable when she came to pick him up and saw him dressed like a cute little Christmas present. Now, though, he was loose in the hotel hallway.

The little pig was running straight for the elevator, and images filled Valerie's head of the little guy falling through the crack between the elevator and the floor. Was the crack big enough for him to fall through? She didn't want to find out. She ran as fast as she could to catch him. The elevator doors opened, and for a second, she felt her heart stop.

The pig jumped over the crack and into the elevator, where he was scooped up by the gloved hand of Brock Lesnar. Valerie stopped dead in her tracks when she saw him, her mouth falling open slightly. He stepped out of the elevator, taking a few steps towards her.

"You look like you lost something," he said, holding out the miniature pig towards her.

"You just saved my life," Valerie breathed, reaching out and gently taking the pig from him. "Alexa would kill me if I lost her pig."

"I guess I was in the right place at the right time, then," Brock replied. He gave her a small grin. "I like the bow, by the way. It's a nice touch."

"Oh! I - um - thanks!" Valerie stammered, feeling a rush of warmth come flooding through her cheeks. Brock smiled down at her before beginning to walk off in the direction of his room. She quietly watched him go, and then she looked down at little Larry-Steve. "Alexa put you up to this, didn't she?" Valerie hissed before beginning towards her own hotel room.

Frost
By PrincessLala95
Disclaimer: This is a WWE fanfiction. Brock Lesnar is not my character.

Valerie groaned as she looked at her car. Every inch of it, from the windshield to the headlights, was covered in a particularly thick layer of frost.

It looked beautiful, of course, but she had places to be and it was going to take forever to clear the frost off enough to actually be able to see. She climbed into the front seat and started the car up, turning the hot air on and blasting the blowers. Then, getting out and closing the front door behind her, she started in on the front window.

She had never liked the sound of scrapers against the window, but it was a necessary evil. She started at the bottom, slowly working her way up. By the time she was close to the top of the window, she was up on her tip-toes and her strokes had become much narrower. The space in front of her seat was mostly clear, though, and she was satisfied enough to walk around to the other side to clear that off.

When she'd finished with the front windshield, though, a large triangle of frost still remained in the upper middle where she couldn't reach. She eyed it closely for a moment, and then decided to do the rest of the windows and the lights before worrying about it. If the blowers heated up fast enough, she'd be able to get rid of that frost with the help of the windshield wipers.

She did a loop of the car, scraping the thick frost from the side and back windows, and then from the headlights. She opened the front door and ran the wipers once, but they did absolutely nothing to help with the annoying triangle of frost at the top of her window. She groaned again, closing the door and debating how best to deal with it.

She wrapped her hands around the brush end of the scraper and then reached out to the triangle with it. The scraper could reach like this, but she didn't have enough control over it. Without control, she couldn't apply the pressure needed to actually scrape the frost away. The edges of the scraper drew squiggly lines in the frost, but it did nothing to actually clear it away.

"Here, let me help," came a voice from behind her. Valerie jumped slightly, whipping around and finding herself face to face with Brock Lesnar. He grinned at her, holding out his hand. Blushing, Valerie handed over the scraper and stepped aside.

"Thanks," she mumbled awkwardly as he, much taller than her and easily able to reach the upper middle of her windshield, began to scrape away the last of the ice.

"I keep running into you," Brock remarked. "It's weird, isn't it?"

"Not really," Valerie replied softly. "I mean, we work together. And we're obviously on the same floor of the hotels, like, all the time."

"That's weird, though," he said. "Or maybe it's just me. I don't know. Anyways, here you go." He handed the scraper back to her, and she smiled shyly up at him.

"Thanks," she said.

"You already said that," he replied with a grin. "You're welcome, though. I'll see you tonight."

"Um, yeah," Valerie replied quickly, smiling back at him. With one last nod, Brock began to walk off. As he left, Valerie clambered into the front seat of her car and took a deep breath. He had a point: it was weird that they kept running into one another, both in and out of work, over the last few days. Maybe it would turn out to be a good thing, though.

Mistletoe
By PrincessLala95
Disclaimer: This is a WWE fanfiction. Brock Lesnar is not my character.

"So, let me get this straight...you want to put decorations up in our dressing room for the evening, take them down at the end of the night, take them to the next arena, and repeat the cycle...every night for the entire month...?"

"When you put it that way, it sounds silly," Alexa huffed, putting her hands on her hips. "It's not that much work. It gives us something fun to do when we're not wrestling. And besides, we'll be real champs at putting up decorations by the time Christmas comes. And it's not for the entire month! It's just until Christmas!"

Valerie and Nia exchanged a look, but then both nodded. "Fine," they said. "We'll decorate with you."

"Yay!" said Alexa.

It took them about ten minutes to get the miniature tree set up in the corner, laughing together as they put the ornaments on. All three of them were having much more fun than they'd expected. Once they were done with the tree, Alexa gave Nia a string of lights and then handed a large wreath to Valerie. "Put this on the door and then come help us with the lights," she said.

"You're putting up lights?" asked Valerie, her eyes widening. "This is going to take forever to dismantle."

"It's fun, though!" said Alexa. "Now go put up the wreath!"

Valerie smiled, shaking her head and walking over to the door. There was already a hook on the door, presumably used for signs, and she began to carefully position the wreath on it.

"Are you...decorating your dressing room...?" came a voice from behind her. Valerie jumped slightly, turning around and blushing when she saw Brock approaching.

"It wasn't my idea," she protested. "Alexa made me do it."

"Damn right I did," called Alexa's voice from inside the dressing room. She glanced up as Brock came closer, smirking when she saw him. "Hey, Brock."

"Hey, Alexa," he replied.

"Any chance you could help with something?" asked Alexa.

"Sure, what is it?" Brock asked, still standing in the doorway with Valerie.

"There's tape attached to this. Can you attach it to the front of the doorframe?" asked Alexa, tossing something his way. Brock caught it, barely, and nodded.

"Sure," he said. It was a plastic plant of some sort, and he easily reached up and stuck it to the outside of the doorframe with the tape. "There we go."

"Is that mistletoe?" asked Valerie suddenly, raising an eyebrow as she looked at the plant. Hidden between the green leaves were small white berries. Brock lifted his gaze, eyeing it curiously.

"I think so," he said, looking back down at her with a smirk. "Know what that means?"

"I - um -"

Before Valerie could say anything, though, Brock leaned down. She felt her heart racing, but then he didn't kiss her - at least, not on the lips like she was expecting. Instead, she felt his lips gently touch her cheek, which she was certain had to be beet red by now. She giggled nervously, and he grinned at her as he drew back.

"See you around," he said, gently patting her shoulder as he walked past her. She said nothing, a bit too shocked to reply, and then slowly looked inside the room. Both of her friends were watching with bated breath, wide grins on their lips.

"I can't believe you!" Valerie exclaimed as she stepped inside, closing the door behind her to berate her friends.

"Don't be mad! Brock Lesnar just kissed you!" exclaimed Alexa.

"On the cheek!" Valerie replied.

"He probably didn't think you'd be okay with a big smooch on the lips from a coworker you can't even talk to with stuttering and stammering like a fool," Nia replied with a grin, folding her arms over her chest. "If anything, you should be thanking Alexa."

"Do it! Thank me!" said Alexa, and Valerie groaned.

"Thanks, Alexa," she mumbled.

"You're welcome," Alexa replied, grinning. "Next time, though, you've gotta take initiative. Kiss him first, and make sure it's on the lips!"

The Grinch
By PrincessLala95
Disclaimer: This is a WWE fanfiction. Brock Lesnar is not my character.

Christmas shopping had never particularly been one of Valerie's great talents. She never knew what to buy for people, and always ended up walking around the mall at the last minute desperately trying to find things that she thought her friends and family would like. This year, though, she was determined to finish her shopping ahead of time.

She'd already done some shopping, and was pleased with the results, but she still needed to buy presents for her family back home. Her parents were easy enough to shop for - anything nerdy would work for her father, and her mother's tastes were quite similar to her own. She still had to buy something for her little brother, though, and that was going to be the tricky part. She always struggled to shop for him.

"Well, look who it is?" exclaimed a familiar voice. Valerie turned around, smiling shyly as she saw Brock coming up behind her. They hadn't seen one another or said anything to one another since yesterday when he'd kissed her cheek under the mistletoe, and she hoped it wouldn't make things awkward.

"Hey to you, too," she said. He fell into step with her as she walked down the store aisle, a smirk on his lips.

"Shopping cart - does that mean you're Christmas shopping?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said. "I need stuff for my parents and my brother, back home. I just need to find the perfect presents."

"There are no perfect presents," Brock said, shaking his head. "Christmas isn't about presents. It's about spending time with the people you love. Just going home for Christmas should be enough of a present for them."

"Or I could go home for Christmas and bring them presents," Valerie replied with a giggle.

"Nah. You don't need to worry about that. They don't need presents," Brock said, grabbing a package of paper towels off an end display as they passed it and tossing it into her cart.

"Did I say you could use my cart?" Valerie asked, pretending to be mad, and Brock laughed.

"No, but you also didn't say that I couldn't," he replied. "Besides, it's not like you need all that room. I assure you, your parents don't need presents."

"Do you hate Christmas?" Valerie asked teasingly, surprised by how comfortable she felt with poking fun at him. "Are you some kind of Grinch trying to make my parents hate me by convincing me not to buy them gifts?"

"A Grinch? Me?" he asked, putting his hand over his heart. "Ouch."

Valerie giggled. "If you're not a Grinch, then why do you hate Christmas presents so much? Is it because nobody's ever given you a Christmas present?"

"Not a good one," Brock replied, shaking his head. "There's no perfect present. There are only weak attempts and broken dreams."

"You really sound like a Grinch right now," Valerie said, smirking. "I'm going to give you the perfect Christmas present to change your mind."

"I doubt that," Brock replied with a grin.

"Nope. Don't doubt me. It's my mission now. I'm gonna give you the best present you've ever been given and it'll restore all your faith in Christmas. You'll see."

Red
By PrincessLala95
Disclaimer: This is a WWE fanfiction. Brock Lesnar is not my character.

"Hey, Alexa?"

"Yeah?" Alexa glanced up at her tall friend, raising an eyebrow. Nia was frowning, looking across the room.

"What's going on with Brock and Mandy?"

Alexa followed Nia's gaze, and sure enough, Mandy Rose was practically attached to Brock, following him from the front counter to his table. She didn't sit down beside him, but rather, sat down on top of the table itself. She folded one long leg over the other, laughing a little too loudly at whatever he was saying to her.

"She's definitely flirting with him," said Alexa.

"Should we go put a stop to that before Val gets here?" asked Nia, looking down at Alexa.

"Put a stop to what before Val gets here?" asked a voice, and the pair exchanged a worried look as Valerie came up behind them.

"Uh-"

"Oh, Brock! You're so funny!" exclaimed an obnoxiously flirtatious voice from across the room, and Valerie's head snapped up to follow the sound. Sure enough, the moment she saw Mandy with Brock, her friends could tell that she was seeing red.

"Val, it's-"

"Is he-"

"No! Val, listen to me!" Alexa said, grabbing her friend's wrist. "He's probably just as mortified as you are."

"This is actually a great opportunity," said Nia suddenly. "If we go pull Mandy away, Val can slide right on in there and she'll be his hero."

Alexa giggled a bit at this, but Valerie was still clearly angry. "You're right," she said firmly. "Let's do this."

"Val-"

"Come on!"

Alexa and Nia exchanged a look before jumping to their feet, hurrying after their friend as she walked over to the table where Brock and Mandy were sitting.

"Hey, blondie," Val said, putting her hands on her hips when she reached them. "I heard Paige was looking for you."

"That's nice," Mandy said sarcastically, frowning as she looked at Val. "Did you need something?"

"Yeah, actually, I need you to go find Paige and see what she wants," Val replied.

"I'm perfectly fine where I am," Mandy replied with an icy smirk.

"She wasn't asking," Nia said, grabbing Mandy by the arm and pulling her gently from the table. "Come on, we'll help you find Paige."

Nia began to escort Mandy away. The blonde clearly knew better than to argue with Nia, who was at least twice her size, and followed her and Alexa as they left the catering area. Once they were gone, Valerie sat down in the seat across from Brock. "You were my hero a few days with the pig, now I'm your hero," she said. Brock burst out laughing.

"I don't know how I'll ever repay you," he said, grinning at her. "She's literally been on me since she got called up from NXT. I don't know how to get through to her that I'm not interested."

"Just tell her that you're interested in someone else, that usually makes people go away," Valerie replied with a shrug as Brock ate the last bite of the food from his plate.

"I already did," he replied, standing up and carrying the paper plate over to the garbage bin. Valerie blinked in surprise, raising an eyebrow as she heard his words.

"Really?" she asked, staying seated, assuming he'd come back and sit down with her once he'd thrown his plate out. "Who?"

Brock dropped the plate in the garbage bin, slowly turning to face her. There was a smirk on his lips. "You," he replied, and before the stunned Valerie could say anything further, he turned and walked out the door.
 
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Enna sat up on the old man’s knee and lolled her head back to his strong shoulder, blinking sleepily as his worn hands flipped through the photo album sprawled out across her lap.

The fireplace was a tiny sun for the evening, casting long shadows over the rug. The flames curled and swayed, flickering this way and that, crackling as they burned the dry wood. On the richly carved mantel stood the Santa figurine with two of his reindeer, next to an exquisite plate-glass clock, the chimes of which were just striking nine. Pinched below a blue pitcher of Cloisonne and a tray of filigree silver heaped with dainty cotillion favors was the plastic loop of the faux mistletoe, hanging and standing out from the beautiful relics of the past.

“Do you know where this photo was taken?” the old man asked, pressing his finger against a haggard black and white photo that turned sepia with age.

The couple in the photograph seemed happy and beautiful, smiling for the camera as blurs of people moved behind them.

“That’s the Red Square in Moscow,” Enna replied between yawns. She could see the onion-shaped towers of the Kremlin behind the man.

“Four for four,” the old man roared with a hacking laughter. “You’re too good at this. That’s me, you know,” he said with his finger still pointing towards the young, handsome man in the photo.

“You’ve really been to all those places? I want to go to Moscow. Show me more.”

“I think we should get you in bed. We’ll do more tomorrow.”

“But I have a streak going!” Enna perked up, trying to fight through the blurry eyes and the incessant yawns.

“We’ll continue you’re streak tomorrow, I’m sure.”

“But tomorrow everyone is coming over,” Enna whined, folding her arms over her chest. “We won’t have time to do more!”

“There is time in the morning before everyone else comes, I promise.”

Enna groaned but stood up from his knee. “You promise?”

“Pinky promise.”
 
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[Fieldbox="Chapter 1: At the stroke of midnight, Red, Solid"] "Dad, that's a twig..." A young girl rolled her eyes and looked down on her phone.

"No it's not, it's a Christmas...y tree." Her father said. She looked up at the scrawny tree with no green and only a few branches that all were filled with at least three Christmas balls.

"Where did you even get this thing? The park?" She continued. Her father looked away, his cheeks turning slightly red. "You didn't..."

"No one saw me, and they put in new trees all the time." He chuckled, and continued decorating the little he could do.

A few seconds passed before his phone vibrated and he picked it up to find a text message. "Sorry honey, I gotta get to work again." He said as he rose from the floor. "I know you're disappointed that we can't get a fir tree again, but we just can't afford it right now, and I don't have time to go to the forest and cut one down. We'll just have to make the best of what we've got." He smiled weakly and ruffled the girl's hair before leaving.

The girl sighed and sat down on the couch. "Happy holidays." She murmured. She didn't mind the lack of a fir tree too much really, it was more the fact that her dad would work over the whole holiday, and she would be all alone at home. Nothing had changed.

__________________

Later in the evening she got a text message.

'They asked me to take the night shift as well, make sure to eat properly. Love, Dad.'

She didn't reply. What was she even supposed to say? 'Don't work yourself to death :)' Yeah, not gonna happen.

__________________

It was silent, everyone in the apartment complex was asleep, all but one little girl. The clock closed in on Midnight. 30...29...28... How fast the days went by. Did it feel the same for her dad? Were the days rushing by or were they umbearably slow moving as he worked more and more hours for a riddiculously low pay.

15...14...13...12... Even though tomorrow would be here soon, he would not be. Maybe he'd fall asleep at work once he finished and then wake up just in time for his next shift to start.

4...3...2...1 A loud bang was heard from the living room and the girl flew up from her bed. "What was that?"

Sneaking out into the living room, the girl discovered a man getting up from the floor. How in the world had he gotten in?

"Okay, lesson learned, do not rebuild their shitty stuff, just build your own teleporter from scratch." The man grumbled as he picked up some device from the floor.

She picked up a broom and walked out.

"WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?" She shouted loudly, swinging the broom around.

"Wow wow, take it easy. No need to get violent." The man backed off as he saw the girl. "I'm Cal, I just accidentally dropped by at the wrong place." He nervously laughed and backed towards the window. "I'll just take my leave now."

The girl looked at him. "Accidentally? How do you accidentally break into someones home?"

"Hey hey, I did not break in. I fell in. I was just mixing around with this teleporter and I accidentally got it a bit wrong." Cal showed the small device as if she would understand any of it.

"... Really? Teleport?" Without even realizing it, she had lowered the broom slowly during their talk. He didn't seem very threatening, maybe that's why she accidentally let her guard down. Cal was constantly touching the device, as if he was still trying to do something with it.

"Well you'll get your proof in a second, so no need to doubt me." He shrugged and suddenly he was gone. She hadn't even blinked, but still he disappeared right in front of her eyes.

"What the..." The broom fell to the floor and seconds later she fell with it. She must have sat there for ten minutes if not more just staring at the air while the snow started falling outside.

The lights from the neighbors Christmas decorations slightly brightened up the otherwise dark room. As midnight past, people all over town turned on the lights of their Christmas trees and decorations to celebrate that the 1st of December finally started. If you discounted her home, you could certainly see that it was starting to look a lot like Christmas. [/fieldbox]

(754 words)

[fieldbox="Chapter 2: The deal, Red, Solid"]

Cal walked around the city as the people started to wake up from their slumber. Even though it was still dark, you could see perfectly clearly with all the lights people had used as decoration all around town. It was quite interesting to see. When he last left earth, it had been the late 1800s. Christmas had just become an official holiday. But now being in the 21st century, it was quite a blown out of proportion celebration. Maybe it was a good thing that he had left earth when he did. Getting used to all this Christmas music playing in every store would have been torture.

The man sighed.

"I wonder what I'm supposed to do now... I'm able to teleport small distances, but its accuracy got so damaged in the fall that it would be impossible to get back to where I came from... I guess I'm stuck here until I can repair this thing." He mumbled to himself. It was an old habit, talking to himself randomly. "I just hope that annoying woman doesn't fall in here to get me." He shivered. Time generally floated very different from planet to planet, maybe they wouldn't even have time to realize that he was gone before he came back.

"HEY, IT'S YOU!" A somewhat familiar voice shouted behind him. Cal turned and noticed a girl, probably the same girl from the other night, but it was hard to tell since it had been pretty dark in the room. Did she seriously recognize him? He turned around and started walking away while fidgeting with the transporter.

"Wait, don't poof away again." The girl said as she followed him. "Who are you? How did you do that? Could you just slow down a bit, I just want to talk." How annoying, the man thought.

"Well, I don't." Cal said as he stopped and turned towards the girl.

"Hey, you trespassed on my property, you should at the very least explain things to me." She tried to argue.

"I thought I already did. I accidentally transported into your living room. There. Done. Now go home." He said and started to walk again. She continued to follow him.

"But how did you do that? What is that?" She continued to ask.

"You're not going to leave me alone before I tell you, will you?" The girl shook her head and Feng continued speaking with a sigh. "Fine, I'm from another planet with much more sophisticated technology than yours, monkey girl, so it's no wonder I can teleport anywhere I want."

"Even though you apparently teleported anywhere you didn't want." The girl grinned.

"Shouldn't you be home preparing for Christmas with your family or something?" Cal gave her an annoyed glare. The girl froze.

"Naah... Dad is too busy working and mom left us years ago. We don't have time with that stuff." She said, trying to sound casual.

"You seem to have a lot of time on your hand. Why not surprise him?" Cal said, just wanting her off his back.

"I don't have any money to surprise him with and it's not like I could get a fir tree all on my own from the forest. That's way too heavy and I'm too young to drive a car." A light suddenly seemed to have lit up in the girl's mind. "Buuuut, if I had a teleportation tool..."

"No!" Cal rejected her immediately.

"Please, it's my dad's birthday tomorrow, if I could just give him one Christmas with a real tree maybe.."

"Maybe what? A tree won't make him less busy." Cal interrupted.

"Maybe not... But it might make him a slightly bit happy. Please. Help me give my dad a great Birthmas and I'll be off your back in no time."

"Birthmas?" Cal raised an eyebrow.

"Would you prefer Christday?" She laughed.The man sighed, but seemed less annoyed than before.

"Fine, give me a day to check over this thing so we don't end up getting hit by a train or something."

"Great. My name's Sara. Pleased to meet you Cal." She reached out her hand. "If you want to, you can use my dad's office to fix your teleport thingy, he's never there anyways."

"It will be a pleasure to get you off my back, annoying girl number 2." He shook her hand as she looked at him both confused and entertained.
[/fieldbox]

(735 words)

[fieldbox="Chapter 3: The Christmas tree, red, solid"]
Sara's dad had collapsed in bed the moment he walked through the door that morning. At least he made it back home, his back probably couldn't take more experiences with sleeping in an uncomfortable chair made of tree at work. She made sure to prepare some food for him that could be easily re-heated once he woke up. He'd probably not stay at home for very long after awakening, and more than likely they would call him in while he was still asleep. At least work would distract him from the adult, possibly alien, male whom currently resided in her dad's office.

"How's it going Cal?" She asked as she peeked in. It wasn't the first time, and definitely not the last.

"Patience is a virtue." Cal mumbled just loud enough for her to hear.

"It's also boring." Sara retorted.

Cal didn't seem to notice, or maybe he just ignored her.

"You mumble a lot to yourself while you work." Sara said, having observed him quite a bit since he started.

"That's because I'm the only one who can give myself some decent company." Cal explained. Either he was extremely full of himself or he had no actual social skill. Both were incredibly likely.

_________________________________

Eventually, her dad disappeared, not ever noticing the stranger that had made his way into their home.

"Elvis has left the building. Is it done yet? Can we go now?" The girl seemed very excited over the trip.

"You're not five, at least try to act your age." Cal told her. Kids. Once upon a time, they had to grow up when they were born and start working as fast as they could walk! That was the good old days. "Your father has a rather strange name... Elvis. Is it a cultural name or did his parents just hate him?" Blunt as always, he did not hold back when a thought had entered his mind.

"That's not my dad's name, it's an expression. You seriously don't know about Elvis Presley? Wow, you really are an alien." Sara shook her head.

"Go get an axe already, I won't wait for you all day." Cal told her, leaving the topic behind.

"It's time?" She almost shrieked excitedly and ran off quicker than a rabbit running from a fox.

_____________________________

It seemed that the teleporter worked fine, at least for such a short distance. Cal was still wary of trying it out for interdimensional and planetary transports. Ending up in the middle of space did not seem like a good way of spending his time.

"Look, look. This one is so pretty." Sara jumped around a rather big tree. The man sighed and put a calming hand on her shoulder.

"It's too tall. It will reach your ceiling. You have to make sure it's short enough." He reminded her. She nodded and started examining every tree she found. The height was apparently not the only important thing for her. As they walked around, Cal got to hear the oddest criticisms such as, 'this one is not green enough', 'this one is too green', 'way too fluffy'.

"Why can't you just choose any random tree and be done with it?" Cal asked after thirty minutes.

"Patience is a virtue, remember? Plus, it needs to be perfect." Sara retorted and continued her fir tree exploration. At times she paused to make snow angels or to ask Cal some questions, most of which he didn't really answer. Eventually, though, she found a tree she was happy with, and Cal cut it down for her.

They teleported back to the home and threw out the horrible not so christmasy tree and replaced it with the green fir tree.

"It's beautiful. Thank you Cal. You might not show it, but you're really a softy at heart, aren't you?" The girl giggled.

"He absolutely is." A woman's voice came from the kitchen and out stepped an incredibly small Chinese girl.

"NOT YOU!" Cal exclaimed but the woman only laughed at his clear rejection.

"We missed you Feng, don't you want to spend Christmas with us?" She used some obviously faked puppy eyes and Cal only sighed at her attempts.

"Feng? Wasn't your name Cal?" Sara looked confused at the two of them.

"I have many names, you just got the privilege to use my real one." Cal grinned. "Let's get back already, it's impossible to fix anything properly with the tools of this world." And with that, they were both gone.
[/fieldbox]

(745 words)

[fieldbox="Chapter 4: Let's spend time together, red, solid"]
December 4, wrapped with a bow.

December 3rd, it was almost midnight. Her dad's birthday would be over in a few minutes. The tree was decorated with every Christmasy thing she could find. They only had ten Christmas balls, she had been forced to make a star out of paper to put at the top and she had put some strings through the hats of their small Santa decorations so they could hang in the tree as well. It wasn't much, but it was something.

She didn't have a proper gift for him and she couldn't wrap the tree in gift wrap, but at the very least she could wrap a bow around it. They didn't have much of the Christmas twine, so she put it high on the tree where it wasn't as thick.

Two minutes to midnight.

Finally footsteps. A key was turning in the keyhole and the door opened up. "I'm ho..." From stapling in like a zombie to being wide awake and having a jaw lying close to the floor, the man couldn't say a single word.

"Surprise." Sara smiled, waiting for him to react.

"You... How did you... Where did you get this? How did you get this up here? We're on the third floor?" He sounded quite amazed.

"I had some help from a friend. I know you're busy with work, but if you get just... A few minutes to spare, we could maybe celebrate Christmas this year. At any day that fits into your schedule. Even if it's first in January. It can be a lightning Christmas."

Her dad put a hand on her head and ruffled her hair. "Thanks kiddo, don't worry, I'll definitely have some time over on Christmas eve this year, and on New years eve, it will be just you and me all day and night." He didn't tell her why he suddenly would have that free time, that was for him to be concerned about, at least it would be in the beginning of next year. For the rest of this year though, he would make sure that she wouldn't have to worry about him anymore than she already had.

THE END[/fieldbox]

(364 word)

[fieldbox="The upgrade, red, solid"]
December 5: Frost

"What are you doing?" Thomas asked, leaning over Cal's shoulder. He had accidentally been brought back with Cal from his last visit on earth. Well, he did say it was an accident, but that might have been a slight deviation from the truth.

"I'm upgrading their computer system. Seriously, these things are slower than a jellyfish... On land." Cal explained.

"Ouch." The other man chuckled. "Are you sure you're upgrading it though? It looks more as if you're tearing it apart."

"I might be exchanging a few parts here and there. Just trust me, when I'm done, this beauty will run with the speed of light."

"Beauty? Does this mean I'm dumped?" Thomas pouted.

"Shut up or I'll drop you off in the Sahara desert."

Thomas just chuckled and picked up a book from his bag, then sat down beside Cal and started to read silently to himself.

_________________

A few hours passed before Cal was done with the computer he had worked on, without consent from the actual owner mind you. To be fair, he did it for the greater good of the community, so it was fine, and if they didn't see it that way, he could always flee back to earth while they all calmed down about it, though that might not be the most ideal thing at the moment after the last unifier incident. Needless to say, Cal was not too fond of being a target because of his incredibly annoying healing ability and his crazy brother obsessed sister. It was hard to hate her though.

"There, now it's all done." He announced. Not an inch of the computer was recognizable. The box that used to stand on the floor was completely gone, Cal had just copied its memory and coding and then gotten rid of the box. Instead, it was now a much smaller box lying on the floor and no screen at all. There wasn't even a keyboard or mouse left.

"Great.... How does it work?" Thomas did come from the age of laptops, but this was a few steps further than that.

"It works with the help of light, hard light to be exact." Cal explained, not going in on any technical details. He clicked a button which made a bluish tinted screen pop up in the air, then the icons that were normally seen on the computer appeared. "It works like a touch-screen, and if you want to write, you can just get a keyboard out like this." Cal turned on another button on the small box and a blue-tinted keyboard of light appeared in front of him as well. "Want to try it out?"

Thomas looked at the thing and shrugged. "Why not. Let's see, there's the browser." He clicked the screen to open up the search engine. He immediately noticed that his finger went right through the screen. "Holy sh.."

"Don't worry, it takes a bit to get used to, there is a slight resistance when you make impact to the light, eventually you'll learn exactly when to stop. Even if you go through it, it still understands what command you were going for though." Cal explained.

"Hmm... so something to search for." Thomas thought for a moment.

"You can also use the voice option, not optimal in an open space like this but if you want your own computer it's definitely better than writing."

"Your people were pretty lazy, weren't they? You had robots do everything for you, even type." Thomas chuckled and started to write 'Zevos, Llima, snow.' Cal raised an eyebrow and rolled his eyes once he realized what the man was doing.

"You could just ask me if you want to know something about my home planet." He mentioned, but was just hushed away.

"Jesus, your home city was really hot all year around. You didn't even get low enough temperatures to get frost. How is that even possible?"

"You do know there are places on earth that doesn't get snow or frost either, right?" Cal smirked.

"... I... Might have forgotten that. Can you blame me? I lived in a place with snow up to the roof." He retorted.

"And internet and geography lessons." Cal reminded him teasingly.

"Yeah yeah... You think they'll like the upgrade?"

"If they don't I'll just tell them how ungrateful they are when I got out of my way to give the community such a nice Christmas present." Cal shrugged.

"Yeah, cause you totally didn't do it cause you were so tired of them being so slow and not being like the ones at your home, right?" Thomas teased.

"You better shut up if you want a Christmas present. Santa doesn't come to annoying little brats." Cal stuck out his tongue at the man. "Come on, let's get something to eat."

[/fieldbox]

802 words

[Fieldbox="Tradition, red, solid"]
Cal sat on a couch beside the fireplace. Everyone was incredibly noisy this evening as they made the last minute preparations for a Christmas party.

"Can't I just sit this one out? And with out I mean I'd rather sit outside in the snow than stay in here with all the Christmas songs and annoying relatives I don't even know." Cal complained, not super happy with his boyfriend's decision to drag him to earth to meet his family. Well, boyfriend from Thomas perspective and someone to pass the time with from Cal's perspective.

"Come on Cal. You told me you would meet my family at some point. They wanna know who I've been living with for the past month." Thomas playfully poked Cal's cheek. "Though for us it has been closer to a year, and when we have a one year anniversary, it is definitely time to meet the parents."

"One year from when? When we met, had sex or actually started talking? Because that's 360 days and 14 hours, 360 days and 15 hours and 367 days and 2 hours. Either you missed the anniversary or you're early by half a week." Cal smirked cheekily.

"Was that the order we did it? Well, either way, you're not getting out of this one mister grumpy. Now get up and help me hang up the mistletoe, I'm too short to reach." Thomas almost dragged the other man out of the couch.

"Just take a chair you lazy kid." Cal said as he hung it up.

"I could, but then I would lose this brilliant opportunity." Thomas replied and kissed the man. "I wouldn't want to miss out on tradition."

"Well then, I guess there won't be any kissing for another 365 days if you need a mistletoe and traditions to do it." Cal smirked and patted the man on the shoulder before walking towards the kitchen.

"Wha... That's unfair, CAL!"

[/fieldbox]
(319 words)
 
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Mistletoe

The festivities of Winterwyst often called for a myriad of parties. The common folk of Thallas put on as much of a show, if not more lively, as the nobles about the land. The Stonehath found itself alive each night since the 50th with rowdy patrons of the Joust celebrating in the warm tavern with looser coin purses and tighter belts. Off duty guards and soldiers were keen on the establishment for their better quality food and beautiful panoramic view.

There was more to be celebrated than Winterwyst this year. Mugs clashed together and patrons sang along with the bards in holiday flare, but between the merriment they would all thank their stars they were alive. Any known soldier had their drinks on the house, quickly becoming sloshed and incoherent in their bubbly rambles. The war was over!

And yet Addiver could no longer find it in him to indulge in the festivities. His mind kept reeling over a list of questions in an attempt to find answers. How could the Joust afford these parties? Where is the meat coming from? The ale? Do they have any concept of how close Thallas came to its fall? It left the man isolated both in thought and among his kin. He’d barely taken a drink from his mug held loosely in his fingers.

“Never thought you to be so sour in the face of a party.” Dromast approached his side, her fiery hair willingly exposed now that the ban had been lifted. Her kind was now welcome in Rosenfall, and while some Thalls gave her a sidelong glance, most greeted her with thanks for her services laced with apologies. She was too diplomatic to refrain from polite thanks and found Addiver’s seclusion a bit enticing. He looked over at her with a smirk and shrugged.

“The Queen is dead, the Shadow threat is quelled, and Rosenfall was attacked only weeks ago,” he said. “It’s too much of a mixture of things that cancel out all the emotions.”

“I think that’s why they drink,” she said thoughtfully, and then pointed over with her mug to a table of men singing to the tune the fiddler played. “Their eyes are dead.”

“They drank past their wits,” Addiver said with a chuckle. “That swaying is not dancing.”

“At least they’re finding some way to get in the spirit,” she said with a shrug. “It’s Winterwyst!”

A huff of a laugh escaped him fondly, but he did not comment further. He had only just returned with the lot of them a few days prior and yet he still hadn’t gone to see his parents or check in on his brother and sister. After all that had happened, he couldn’t face his family before facing the families of his friends, and to that he questioned whether he deserved to partake in the festivities until that point.

Dromast’s hand gently found his shoulder, sliding downward until she clasped his hand lightly. “Come dance with me,” she said. He eyed her in confusion. For so long she had been a driving force in their rebellion; a solid and serious figurehead divvying commands without thought towards frivolities. This was a side of her he never guessed or anticipated. It was as though duty was shed at the culmination of their victory, returning to her former self when life allowed the luxury. He allowed her to guide him, but she stopped, bright eyes casting upward to look upon the hanging bundle of mistletoe.

“Oh, Stars,” Dromast said coyly. “Well, we can’t ignore tradition, I suppose.”

Addiver was never a man to have a woman make advancements towards him. A woman’s interest waned quickly within his company, for he quite lacked the finesse and presentation of a gentleman or even a more homely personality. While he did not struggle to woo a woman’s heart for a night, he struggled to maintain their long term interest.

He had tried his hand with Dromast towards the end of Autumn with barely a glance his way unless duty called for it. And so he accepted what he thought was rejection and moved on. But she closed the distance between them and waited under the mistletoe expectantly, lips held in a playful smirk in anticipation as she waited for her signals to register.

“You have three seconds before this gets awkward, Addiver,” she jested.

“I figured I’d build up the tension a bit,” he said as he stepped closer. “Maybe make those cheeks match your hair.”

“Kiss me or don’t, Addiver Cald,” she whispered, and he leaned forward, gently pressing his lips against hers in a kiss.
 
DECEMBER 8th

Tugging at his tie, her dad looked over at her, stuck out in tongue and Molly covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. He’d always hated dressing up, but never more than Christmas Eve service. In his mind, if they didn’t wear suits and ties in Biblical times, there was no reason he should have to wear one now. But he was also well aware that his mother would have his head, even now, at thirty-four, if he showed up without one.
Molly didn’t care what he wore, so long as she got to spend the day with him.

It was red, the tie... bright red. It was as festive as he dared to go, and Molly knew all too well that he had tucked a sprig of the Christmas tree behind his tie tack, just like last year.

But it wasn't like last year. Not really.

Mom’s boyfriend was visiting again, and Molly had no desire to spend Christmas Eve, Christmas or any day of the year with him. She wanted to tell her dad about Bruce. About the things that he’d been doing, but she hadn’t found the right time.

But they had four hours between service and dinner at Nona’s, and she had no more excuses.

The music started up and Molly looked away from her dad, who stopped fiddling with his tie, reached instead to pluck up the Hymnal.

Today was the day… Today, her dad would fix everything.
 

Winterwyst: A Belanor Family Special


A fire crackled and popped within the Belanor hearth, warming the home and hearts of the those who lived within. Meat from a hunt earlier that morning was roasting, filling the space of their home with a delicious scent. But Zahar and his three siblings paid no mind, as they were huddled near the hearth for warmth, soaking it in after an eventful afternoon in the winter woodlands. Saba, the eldest, was currently retelling the story of Krimblekree, bungling it up terribly. Zahar, who was malcontent with the falsities in the story, sighed deeply but let his brother continue.

“And for the next three nights, when the moon watches over Emalnahar and we’re all tucked in our warm beds… Krimblekree, the wraith of Winterwyst, will claw his way out of our floorboards and lash us in our sleep!”

Shaking his head stubbornly and glancing down at his baby sister, whose eyes were brimming with animated distress, Zahar pointed an accusatory finger at his oldest brother.

“Only if you’re bad! Stop trying to scare her, Saba.”

“I’m only playing,” Sabatyr mused, leaning over to ruffle Inara’s hair. She smiled and scrunched her nose up at the touch. Saba pinched her cheeks softly before speaking in his haunting, storyteller voice. “But remember, Inara, if you don’t appease Krimblekree, he’ll sneak into your room, lash you in your sleep and give you nightmares so bad you won’t want to sleep for weeks!”

Inara gave a start and and buried her face in her furs.

“Stop it, Saba.” Oress said with a chuckle. “You’re scarin’ her.”

Uncovering her face, Inara wiped away a few stubborn tears and with a pout, spoke in that determined tone of hers. “Well I’m sleeping outside until Winterwyst is over!”

Zahar, Oress, and Saba all glanced at each other in confusion. Oress chuckled and waved the notion away, but Saba and Zahar simultaneously asked why. As if exasperated by the question, Inara made a face and sighed deeply, her shoulders sagging. It brought more laughter to Oress, but what followed had all three in snickers.

“Well there’s no floorboards outside! Krimblekree can’t get me!”

The three boys were unable to hold back their mirth. They laughed until their eyes glistened and their sister stood angrily to swat them all. Oress laughed the hardest, and before long he had rolled onto his back, an arm strung tight around his waist. Inara, red in the face but mischievous, waddled over to kick him in the shin. More ruckus ensued before finally their mother called out and settled the festive fuel.

“Boys, enough of that! Come help me with these vegetables. I promised Betlara that’d I bring a few dishes to the festival tomorrow."

starfall


Nestled in the sky between No Man’s Land and Aranian airspace, Starfall meandered through the clouds, tailed by wind spirits and their haunting windsong. All the inhabitants aboard were busy with excitement, the spirit of Terminesia flowing strong within the hearts of those who called the ship home. Few were bothered by the windsong and those that were further buried themselves in their preparations.

If the stars were read true, it neared the end of the year. The festival that marked it’s coming, Terminesia, was said to take place in order to herald in the dead days between years and appease the spirits that had access to the mortal realm during that time. It was also a certain someone’s birthday…

“Come on, don’t try and fight it! We’re only going to the galley.”

“Then why was I blindfolded with an oily rag?” Loey La Clair demanded.

“Because it’s supposed to be a surprise.” Bons laughed out, the hold on her friend’s shoulders tightening in anticipation.

“Oh gods. It’s that time of year again, isn’t it?”

“Yep. And you’re going to suffer through it this year. Everyone’s excited, ya’ know, and not just for you. Try and put on a happy face.”

With a defeated shrug, Loey nodded her head in agreement and mustered a decent smile. In truth she knew every wooden board and plank within Starfall, even ones she knew weren’t meant for her eyes. She knew they were seconds from the galley, and inhaling deep, clearing her mind as best she could, let Bonita lead her through the doors.

Before the blindfold was removed there was a deafening roar of ‘surprise!’ and without thinking, she yanked the blindfold free. When her eyes adjusted she was greeted by merry faces of the crew -her family- and despite her aversion to birthdays and holidays, her heart warmed at the love they all displayed. Starspire crystals hung in traditionally unique formations, strung in diagonal formations across the ceiling. Lemerian ornaments, large gold-and-silver bulbs, stuffed with wishes for the new year, floated here and there throughout the galley, catching the light and shooting dazzling shimmers across surfaces. The Morior Tree, a mechanical contraption that counted down the days until the new year sat in the corner of the room, surrounded by an ever growing pile of gifts. Those wouldn’t be touched until the new year, but…

Loey continued to scan the room and her eyes fell on a small stack of gifts, half hidden by Seth and Rory. Smiling sheepishly, she walked in and greeted those closest to her. After two hugs, the Chef walked out with a tray that held a large, three tiered white cake. The sides were decorated in icing with traditional symbols, firelilies of gold and red, intertwined with vineberries, but her name and stardate was written in miniscule text right in the center of the top tier.

“Chef…” Loey said wide-eyed, “You’ve really outdone yourself now. That cake is beautiful.”

Here-here’s were traded across the room and as the Chef placed the tray on the table and began to cut the cake, Loey waited with a bemused smile, her heart warming to Terminesia after all. Traditionally, the birthday recipient waited until all the outside slices were taken, and then once accessible, given the very center. Bad luck was said to befall those who had their slice of cake eaten by another.

Receiving her slice with a glass of berry wine, Loey smiled, pushed the windsong from her mind, and relished the warmth within the galley.

tumblr_ohug241v0C1vmdy53o1_500.gif


part one. || tis the season to be witchy...

“I mean, do witches even celebrate Christmas?”

“How many times do we have to go over this, Linnet? We’ve celebrated Christmas our entire lives and we’ve been witches our entire lives too, we just never knew.”

The Ray sisters stood nose to nose in their family’s kitchen, in opposition and confusion, staring exasperatedly and defiantly at one another. Their eyes bore into each other's relentlessly. One was searchful, the other accusatory and it took Evie to roll her eyes and finally glance away for the uncomfortable silence to be broken.

“Stop acting like you know everything, Evie,” Linnet spat out. “You don’t know, you’re just assuming. For all we know we celebrated Christmas because we weren't aware of our witch..ery."

Staring doubtfully at her younger sister, Evangeline sighed and raised her hands in mock surrender.

"Look, I don't want to fight, alright? Saffy will be here soon and I want to get the tree set up before she gets here. Then we can, ya know, decorate it together like we used to do with mom."

"Fine." Linnet groaned and stalked off towards the garage. "Wait- How big of a tree did you get this year?"

Laughing, Evie followed her sister down the hallway and escorted her through the laundry room and out into the garage. "Oh, I dunno, a nine-maybe-ten footer."

The tree in question, a beautiful silvery-green Fraser fur, was laying in the bed of their father's old Chevy.

"Seriously Evie? How are we going to carry that?"

"Well, we're witches now, aren't we?"

 
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The Grinch

“You’re like the Grinch.”

“The who?”

They perched themselves in a treehouse they built just on the edge of the former Woodlands of Valnahar. Now they were just the Woodlands from what Kolsol the Orc had regaled. Brook was the first one to see Kolsol Tainted, for he had thrown himself willingly into isolation since the turn. Stony skin, course and textured, felt as cold as his heart was becoming, bitter from his fate and friendless existence. It made the company of the strange human all the more comforting.

“The Grinch,” Brook repeated as she leaned against the railing to their landing. “He’s a grouchy green grump that hid away in a mountain and complained about the people in a village celebrating Christmas. Or… Winterwyst, I suppose. They’re kind of similar.”

“I’m no longer green,” Kolsol muttered. “And I am not complaining about people celebrating Winterwyst. Orcs don’t even celebrate that nonsense. Kimblekree is a stupid idea.”

“Kimblekree is a little dark for my taste,” she said thoughtfully, and looked over at her towering friend. He didn’t quite have the same seating arrangement as she through the railing. His thighs hit the first partition and his horned forehead smacked up against the second in his slouching. He looked over at her with a slight frown.

“Are you cold?” he asked. She shook her head no and lifted up the hood of her coat.

“Luckily I got pulled while I was walking to the store,” she said. “And it’s not terribly cold yet. It’s the afternoon, right?”

“I suppose,” he responded softly. The clouds were thick in the sky in the cover he needed to keep from turning to stone completely.

“I’m going back home for the holiday soon,” she said, and he could hear the faint traces of a solemn tone she tried to mask casually. He didn’t quite understand why going home would elicit such a subtle tone, but even she looked away, eyes distant and purposefully turned away.

“That should be good for you,” said the orc as he lightly punched her shoulder. She was nearly knocked over by the force and brought about her laughter in chimes.

“You should do the same, Kolsol!” she suggested as she punched him back with all the force she could muster, and only harmed her knuckles as they met with the stone-like skin that barely budged. A wince sucked through her teeth, and his own chuckle rumbled from his throat.

“Not an option anymore,” he said, more in resolution than in sorrow. His time for mourning the life he once had has passed.

“You’re just not making it an option,” she pointed out.

“Brook, I’m a Tainted,” he reminded, and then held his massive hands outward in presentation of his newly acquired permanent state. He looked akin to a gargoyle, massive wings protruding from his stony form he continually complained about as it snagged branches and cloth. The smaller woman formed a question in her gaze, more in a manner to suggest he shouldn’t care of his unfortunate state.

“You’ve done just fine around me,” she pointed out.

“I also don’t have the compulsion to eat you,” he casually reminded. “Did I tell you my people used to eat humans? Not that back then it was a compulsion. More survival.”

“That’s a little odd,” she admitted. “Have you ever eaten a person?”

“Maybe I should eat you,” he muttered with a serious tone that took a few moments before a playful grin emerged. He looked at her sidelong with a mischievous air. “Griping about a lack of Winterwyst celebration, complaining about familial distance. Humans, bah! So weak.”

“If I don’t get pulled back, I’m going to a party and taking you with me.” She nodded once suridly and crossed her arms for emphasis.

“And if I refuse?” he asked, his own arms crossing to mirror her, though his gave a more stony friction.

“Then you’re a Grinch,” she answered matter-of-factly. He rolled his eyes and sighed knowing he was going to give in to the whims of a tiny human woman.
 
It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas

Inspiration used: Emrys Jernigan, Joan Lambert @FieryCold & Asher Fray @darkflames13

Christmas songs and ornaments had long lost their meaning, with shops stalling out their Christmas goods as early as October, and the Christmas specials even earlier. Another commercialised holiday, that was all it was in Emrys’s mind. Spoiling the mood long before it was even supposed to settle in.

However, despite all of the cynicism he held within, he did always look forward to the Christmas holidays. It wasn’t the decoration, or the songs that made him eager to wait for Christmas. Nor were it the specials, or the presents that he wished for. The feeling of Christmas nearing wasn’t hot chocolate, or the sound of bells, or the smell of candles. To the boy there was one thing that defined Christmas to him.

Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans, nicely packed with a bow, gifted to his dear friend Joan. Every year, without a fail, Emrys would acquire the sweets together with Asher, pack them and hand them to the girl. Every year, without a fail, curses and punches were thrown at them.

And they would all laugh, and laugh, and laugh.

Merry Birthmas

Inspiration used: Great grandfather

A form was laid out in front of him, confusion settling in on the face of the foreigner. He didn’t understand these foreign letters, much less did he speak it.

“Registration form!” the clerk yelled at him, trying to get over the noises in the background. It was busy at the desk. Too busy, resulting in it that there was too little time to explain to the man what he was supposed to fill in, or how.

Getting impatient the clerk took the form back, and picked up the pen. “Name?” he starts. That the foreigner understood.

“Ming,” he replies, glad that there was something he understood in this strange place.

“Family name?” the man continues, and again Ming was glad that he had been cautioned before that westerners didn’t introduce themselves with their family names first.

“Birthday,” the clerk asks, after a bit of silence. He had filled out the easier parts, and left the date for last, and with good reason.

Ming hesitates for a bit. “The twenty fifth day of the twelfth month,” he speaks, unsurely. The clerk gives Ming a harsh look. “December twenty five, right,” and he writes down the date. The man just left it at that, assuming that it must be a Western equivalent of his birthday.

Green

Inspiration used: Christmas last year

“This is ridiculous,” Elvira scoffed, staring out of her window. In early December, when the tree was supposed to be empty, and the plots in the garden dead, she saw life sprouting up. Little sprites of green all around, and even an early snowdrop here and there.

And outside she saw her siblings, running around in what would be their spring clothes.

“Where is my snow? My winter?” the girl dramatically fell on top of her bed, her cousin Maura staring at her in apathy.

“Gone, and gone it may stay,” was her simple response before returning to whatever article she was reading. Elvira couldn’t believe her cousin. How could one wish for winter to be gone?

Wrapped With a Bow

Inspiration used: Garaile Scriven & Anice Runeswell @VocaStar

Nervously the prefect wrung her hands in her skirt, a blush heavily donning her face as Garaile continued to laugh. He was having an absolute blast at what she had just told him, resulting in the Slytherin being unable to keep his posture.

“You,” he started as he finally took a breath, but the pause didn’t last as he broke out in laughter again, annoying the girl. He didn’t care, however, as he continued to laugh maniacally. “You,” he could almost piss himself at the hilarity of the situation.

Anice Runeswell, little prefect girl from Slytherin, had just asked him, Garaile Scriven, scumbag number 1, to be her Christmas date.

“And you showed them that picture?” he wiped his tears dramatically. The girl grew even redder, as she nodded, embarrassment running high, and her pride shattered. It served her right for kissing him with Halloween. He wrote about scandals, he wasn’t part of it, and he had been thinking for a long while on how to get back at the her.

Now he finally had it. Presented to him on a silver plate, wrapped with a bow on top. Anice Runeswell had outdone herself.

“And you told them I’m your Indo-South African pureblood boyfriend?” he still couldn’t believe his ears, even if he said it himself. How did her parents even fall for the lie? It was absolutely ridiculous, but oh so delicious.

The girl nodded again, her face almost exploding with how red it was. Garaile couldn’t contain himself.

“And now they want to meet me!” he cackled, hardly keeping himself in his seat. He could see that Anice was about to smack him, but decided against it. She needed his favour after all, no matter how much it humiliated her, and that alone was enough for Garaile.

Christmas was promising this year.

Frost

Inspiration used: Emrys + friends, from the first prompt.

Emrys barely held on as he stepped outside. It had been freezing in the night, and the morning frost was treacherous. Looking around to see if anyone had seen him stumble the mute tried to play it off cool. Joan certainly would have a blast knowing that he almost fell, but she wasn’t around, luckily.

“Morning, Emrys!” the peace and quiet was suddenly broken by said friend, followed by Asher who moved a lot more cautiously. Wise, as they were about to reach the same intersection Emrys almost slipped at. Lifting his arm he was about to warn Joan, but the girl mistook it for a wave.

Incident in three, two, one...

“Come on slowpo--ooaaah!” and there his friend went. Emrys just lowered his head into his hand, as a string of curses went towards fate, and winter. He probably shouldn’t mention that he tried to warn her.

Mistletoe

Inspiration used: Garaile Scriven

Garaile once had the unfortunate luck to stand under a mistletoe with his grandmother. He loved the woman, she had after all devoted her time to caring for him when his parents decided to avoid each other permanently. However, there was just something about the thought of having to kiss your grandmother.

And let grandmother Scriven be the sort of woman who absolutely loved to shame her grandson.

“Garaile, here,” she said, pointing at her puckered lips.

Disgust grew over his face as Garaile looked away. “Grandma, please,” he begged, laughing to himself in discomfort. “You already convinced me to wear the sweater,” he tried to reason with her, but she wouldn’t be budged.

“And now I want a kiss from my only grandson,” she giggled, and the boy felt himself dying a little inside.

The Grinch

Inspiration used: Kid!Emrys Jernigan

Emrys didn’t hate Chrismas. Not really, but he didn’t like it either. So, when his school organised a costume party the eight years old dressed himself as the only creature he could identify with surrounding the holidays.

The Grinch.

“Emrys, why the Grinch?” his teacher asked him, a little amused at his choice. The boy turned towards the woman, face deadpan.

“The Grinch is my soul animal,” he answered, earning a snicker from the adult.

“Are you planning on stealing Christmas?” she teased, but Emrys gave her a blank stare, thinking for a moment before staring at the rest of his classmates. “Don’t steal their presents, Emrys,” the adult continued, a smile still playing around her lips. The boy was a strange one, but never malicious.

“No,” Emrys replied relieving her from one worry. However, he soon added a much bigger concern. “That wouldn’t ruin Christmas,” he mused, an idea brewing and his face lit up.

“I will tell them that Santa doesn’t exist.”

Red

Inspiration used: Melinda Geralds & Alistair Blackbourne @FieryCold

Melinda used to love the colour red. It was warm, and it was romantic. It could be so many things. It also represented Christmas, and that made it her favourite holiday.

However, the twelfth winter of her life was when that all changed.

Her stomach had been hurting the whole day. For some inexplicable reason it was cramping and hurting for no reason. Her friends blamed the cold for it, and told her to stay inside, but the girl couldn’t be bothered. It was snowing, and she had to go out.

“How long until Zed comes out?” Melinda whined to the twin, Alistair. The three of them had agreed to meet up in the courtyard, to hang, and to hopefully beg Ali in helping them with their studies.

Alistair shrugged his shoulders, undisturbed by the cold. Melinda in the meanwhile felt like the stone underneath her was stabbing her. The pain growing a little worse until she felt something warm.

“I’m getting sick waiting outside,” she exclaimed, jumping down her seat. A choice she came to regret immediately. Another flash of pain brought the Gryffindor to the ground, a groan escaping her as she clutch onto her stomach. “Can we please go inside?” she turned to her friend, who was staring at her with wide eyes.

“Uhm, I think you need to see the nurse,” he calmly informed her, but Melinda could tell he was distressed about something.

Rolling her eyes the girl waved away his concerns. “It is just the cold,” she said, but the boy shook his head, slowly pointing at the red underneath her.

“I don’t think that is the cold,” he countered in a small voice, face paler than ever before.
 
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Seeing my friend Piper looking so bedeviled had thrown me into a state of temporary irrationality.

I probably should have thought twice before inviting his crew to camp here, but I’m not sorry for it. Maybe there’s something I can do to help, now.

Wrapped in my warmest overcoat, I stood in the doorway of the huge kitchen (the dining room I reserve for formal occasions), watching the fey woof down breakfast. It had been no big deal to whip up French toast dipped in a cinnamon and vanilla batter, oregano-sprinkled home fries, chocolate chip pancakes, strawberry goat cheese, and an assortment of other edibles that I had already partially prepped for Piper and me.

I gave a little wave as they looked up in unison, raw suspicion on most of their faces, forks suspended in mid-air.

I hid a smile. “Hey, guys. I’m going out to get some holiday greens and take a look around. I’ll be right back, so please make yourselves comfortable. If you have any questions, ask Piper. He generally knows where everything is by now.”

Piper pushed back his chair and sprang up. “I’ll come with you!” he announced, his eyes shining with intensity through the mussed locks of his long hair, which were in shades of black and dark green.

His warrior friend Tash grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him back down abruptly.

“No Piper, you’re the substitute host,” drawled the red-headed Sionnach, draping himself in his chair gracefully, somehow conveying the impression that he was reclining on a velvet-covered chaise lounge instead of a wooden chair. “The lady has given you a mission. It would be churlish of you to run out on us.”

Piper blushed, looking cornered and a bit angry.

Of course, they didn’t trust me. Logically, they had to be wondering if I was racing out the door right now to betray them all.

Calpa (the one I was most wary of) gracefully unfolded himself and stood up, his pale beautiful face a mask of indifference brushed lightly with disdain. His waterfall of shining blue-black hair was tied back now with a fabric ribbon of indigo, worked through with gold metallic thread.

I covertly eyed their leader, Alarc (at least, I assumed he was the principal decision-maker), but he appeared immersed in own thoughts to the exclusion of anything else. His remote and sorrowful ice-blue eyes met my glance briefly, then flickered away.

I bit back a sigh and walked out the kitchen door without a backward glance, letting Calpa (who had never once spoken to me directly) follow if he cared to. Of course he would. He had to keep an eye on me, didn’t he? Or perhaps he planned to bury me in a snowdrift at the first opportunity, who knew?!

From the enclosed back porch, I pulled out the sled I had modified for transporting greens home from the woods. Calpa silently trailed me.

The snow had stopped falling and the sun shone brightly on a peaceful landscape of forest and gently rolling hills in the distance. The seldom-used, stone-paved driveway that wound from the front of the house to the back door needed shoveling. A few ancient outbuildings and large trees hid the view of my backyard’s quasi-Japanese water garden, enclosed by a high black lacquer fence and gate. (I had given in to crass creature comfort and also added a hot tub.)

Past this, a low, ancient stone fence surrounded the property, save for the attached wooden driveway gates.

Before I could march forward with my little sleigh, Calpa laid an imperious hand on my sleeve and nodded at the garden gate. “What’s in there?” he asked in a voice so devoid of emotion that I couldn’t tell if he was suspicious or merely curious.

“See for yourself,” I invited, shrugging off his hand. Unlocking the gate, I flung it open.

The dark-haired fey shot me a quick side-long glance.

“No dragons or harpies within, I swear,” I joked.

His lip curled at that, as if I had impugned his courage, and he stalked in.

Sighing, I picked up a shovel and started clearing the driveway. One step forward, two steps back. These guys had no idea of the meaning of the phrase “time-efficient.”

Time passed and finally I heard His Perfection crunching towards me. There was a bit of throat-clearing and he finally said, “Poe.”

I turned around to look at him. Did his face actually have a glimmer of expression in it? I put the shovel aside and folded my arms.

“Poe is my nickname that certain people get to use. What is it?”

Calpa looked both haughtily embarrassed and irritated. “What do I call you, then?”

“What do you call me when I’m not around?” I countered. “It? She? Mongrel? Probably nothing quite that polite, right?”

A slight flush sprang to his cheeks, but he didn’t drop his imperious gaze.

I sighed. “Not that it matters, now. What did you want, anyways? How can I be of assistance, my lord?”

“That water garden…,” he started (not responding to the “my lord” jibe—odds are he really was a “milord”) and stared at me. “Did you design it?

“For the most part, yes,” I admitted.

“I understand you are collecting ‘greens’ to decorate the house interior. Why aren’t you cutting them from the garden?” He looked intently serious, like a child asking whether Santa Claus is real.

“Do you know how long we’ve been out here? My feet are getting frozen.” I stomped them for emphasis.

I held up one gloved hand. “No, wait. Don’t answer that—it was purely rhetorical. Look, I pick up greens such as boughs and pinecones and other findings from what’s already on the ground or, upon rare occasion, from what the tree cares to give. I would never treat that garden like a salvage depot. Just the thought of it is upsetting. So, no thanks!”


Morning had not yet turned to noon, and Calpa and I had looted a fair amount of decorative greenery from the forest to bring back to the house. Surprisingly, he had actually helped me with the gathering. Not grudgingly, but in a gentlemanly manner. Though it seemed his attitude had momentarily softened towards me, I wasn’t foolish enough to count on it lasting.

We were at the very edge of my property line and ready to turn back from our expedition, when I spotted a loose bough enticingly caught in the branches of a tall snow-laden tree. Calpa followed my gaze upwards.

“I can get that for you,” he offered.

“Mmm, I’d rather not watch that,” I replied cryptically (if anything happened to him while we were out, the others would not only blame me, but probably suspect I had something to do with it). “Let me try something else.”

Calpa quirked an eyebrow, but remained speculatively silent.

So far, I hadn’t pulled out the bells and whistles in front of anyone except Piper, who I am sure, had kept my secrets. Well. That wasn’t going to last. I felt certain that whatever they were escaping from last night could track them here, unless they were utter fools. Hell, if I could pick up their energy signatures, I was certain an experienced magickal tracker would be able to.

I shivered and suddenly wanted to get beautiful pain-in-the-ass Calpa back to the house immediately.

“Look out above and don’t get conked in the bean,” I instructed.

“Conked in the bean?” Calpa repeated as if mortally offended at having to hear such an inelegant phrase. But he got the drift of it and stood back with a skeptical look.

I put my hands on the big tree that held the entangled broken bough and lay my face on its cold trunk. Calpa couldn’t see, but I whispered to it sweetly, things that only it and I would know, and asked it to loosen its hold.

There was a rustle of branches from above, like when a hard wind blows, and our prize thumped to the ground. With an unreadable look on his face, Calpa scooped it up and put it on top of our sled.

I shivered and not from the cold. “We should hurry back, please.”

Strangers were swiftly approaching from the north, not just one or two, but a small pack.

Calpa and I were still on my land and there were rules that governed that, but I didn’t want to call that into play right now. There are always those that believe that rules were made to be broken. Wars can be started that way. I prefer not to fight for idiotic reasons.

We were making a good start, when I felt that sudden surge of energy through the land that told me they were suddenly flanking us on the left. I grabbed Calpa’s hand (startling the hell out of him, I’m sure) and swiveled to face our pursuers.

There were five strange Fey facing us, most of them smiling unpleasantly. The look in their eyes was frightening. It was the look of men that loved to hunt and kill.

Except for one of them, a leather-clad, skunk-haired Fey (and still other-worldly gorgeous despite it) who reminded me of Calpa’s leader, the distracted Alarc. I looked at the skunk-head more sharply—he had the same distracted expression, the same crystal blue eyes. Surely, there was some connection here to make use of, if I could just figure it out.

Calpa had immediately tensed and thrust me behind him.

“My, my, my,” purred a handsome dapper gent, with a black eye patch and dressed in immaculate Edwardian garb, “look what we found. And a little treat as well. Wrapped with a bow! I think I’m beginning to believe in Santa Claus, after all.”

He began to unsheathe a sword as his companions looked on with expressions that ranged from sly to indifferent, from excited to coldly anticipatory.

“Too bad I don’t buy into the rest of it—peace on earth and good will to men. But then you’re not really a man, are you, Calpa?”

It was too late! I was out of time.
 
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Red


His fingers combed through thick red hair, weaving the wavy locks into a loose braid. She was so much like her mother from looks to personality, if it weren’t for the slight point of her ears Thannel would be left to wonder if he was even her father. She was vibrant this time of year, which was likely the fuel that put him into motion for extravagant decorating. Every year he would make a trip to the mainland just for a Kimble Tree and to recharge the everglow to string about their island while she and her mother prepared ornaments and streamers.

Their little girl was growing up and beginning to tinker with contraptions; likely the only aspect she picked up from her father. Thannel secured her braid as she held up her first charge of everglow. The runes were near perfect upon the shard of crystal, etched with the set of tools Elder Lannya had gifted her the previous Winterwyst.

“What do you think, papa?” Evalora asked. Thannel took the crystal in hand, the glow quite different than what was typically enchanted. The pattern was very akin to everglow, but as he read through the runes he noted the deviation in the lines of the circumference.

“This set,” he said as he pointed to the deviation. Evalora leaned in to look at what her father was pointing out to her. “What is it for?”

“Watch,” she said as she plucked the crystal from his fingers. Next to her was a stick she had whittled with another set of runes that converged at the top of the length. It stood no higher than her tiny hand, and when she placed the everglow into the divvet the entire piece came to full realization. The deviation in the crystal reacted with the runes on the wooden piece to make the everglow mimic the flickering flame of a candle.

A smile formed at her creativity. It wasn’t at all practical, but Evalora’s dreamy mind thought more of comforts and pretty things. “It’s almost like momma’s flames,” she added with a shrug. “Do you think she would like it?”

He kissed the top of her head. “Of course,” he assured.

“I made Winnock some everglow for his den,” she said as she took apart her candle contraption.

“We should probably go put that up then before they get back, hmm?” Thannel rose to his feet and grabbed their coats for the trek down the hill. Even the Glassy Sea held a chill in the Winter Season, especially at its middle when the sun did not shine as lengthy as usual.

Winnock’s den wasn’t far from the lighthouse, but gave the fire dragon a place to call his own away from the elements while still being close to the one he bonded with. It was the only reminder Thannel had that Evalora would eventually need to follow in her mother’s footsteps when she feels her dragon’s bond form. He never wanted it to happen, though. She was nearly eight already, and every birthday he would be reminded of her coming destiny and hold his breath in anticipation. Raleia would be able to mentor her, at least. Their Evalora would not be left to do it alone.

The strands of everglow were crude compared to the Vuaturi standard, but Thannel almost wished they could be hung in the lighthouse instead. Evalora was catching onto her attunement and craft so quickly and she didn’t seem to give it all a second thought. Instructions were conducted as to where to place the hooks for hanging the strands, and she eyed their efforts with satisfaction.

“Winnock will love it,” she came to say. “And I don’t think his horns will get tangled in it.”

Thannel walked over to stand next to his daughter and ruffled the crown of red hair endearingly before wrapping his arm around her. They looked at the strand of everglow hung around the den in silence for a time. The Glassy Sea brushes against the rocks outside and sprayed the cavern’s landing behind them acting as the backdrop to their little display. It was already a good Winterwyst, and the pair could hardly wait to surprise Raleia and Winnock.
 
The sunshine of earlier had all but fled and the winter sky had once again grown gray as pockets of snow clouds were herded our way by an accommodating wind.

Calpa and I stood at the edge of the woods facing five hostile fey that were strangers to me. An elegant, one-eyed male stepped out in front, taunting us, while quickly and gracefully unsheathing a long gleaming sword with a black and gold hilt.

It was true that my property was, in Piper’s words, “warded.” However, there was a price in aggressively activating the outer perimeter. If the land were made it into a battlefield, it would never entirely recover its peaceful aura. Right now, the outer wards were working passively. That is, they gave warning of trespassers, but did no harm.

I didn’t doubt that Calpa was very powerful, perhaps powerful enough to take down five other talented fey, but then, for certain, blood would soak the earth. Blood that was shed with murderous intent. I didn’t expect anyone would understand my priorities, but the fact was that I didn’t intend to let that happen, even if it meant showing all my cards.

My course of action, fail or succeed, ran through my head in less time than it took to draw one breath. I clasped Calpa’s hand tightly and felt him tense, but he didn’t have time to pull away before I vanished us.

I anticipated that the swordsman would probably instinctively run forward at our disappearance, slashing at the air. Since we were only invisible to the eye, not physically absent, I next pulled Calpa and myself from the woods to the inner perimeter, whose boundary was marked by the low stone fence.

I let go of his hand and plopped on the unyielding ground, taking some deep breaths. I hadn’t planned on having to do anything like this right away. It really took it out of me, you know?

Calpa was visible again, looking both shocked and angry. “What did you DO?” he shouted at me as he grabbed my upper arms and pulled me up to eye level, my feet dangling above the ground, giving me a shake. “And what are you?”

I’ll give him points for intrepid recklessness, considering what he just experienced. While I understood his reaction, I didn’t appreciate being treated like a rag doll, pretty as his face was. In his agitation, he was manifesting his element. Given the temperature, frost began to form over the both of us.

I returned the favor with a little all-over sparking, nothing too radical, and he instantly let go of me, albeit with an aggravated stare that bordered on combative.

“Just chill, your lordship. Or, er, maybe not.” I brushed at my clothing. “Look, I simply removed us from a potentially lethiferous encounter.”

I shot him an admonishing glance, while he continued to glare at me.

“My turf, my rules. I’m not asking you to thank me, but I meant you no harm. And I don’t want bloodshed on my land if it is at all possible to avoid it. I think that is my prerogative. At least at the moment. As to what or who I am—I’ll share with you, if you share with me. I’m not your slave!”

His eyebrows shot up at this and he took a step forward.

Abasement isn’t one of my talents. The Christmas spirit was ebbing by the second.

The back door had opened while Calpa had been shaking me and the others crowded around us, catching this tender exchange. Tash and Sionnach forcibly coaxed Calpa away from me, while Alarc stood to the side, looking mildly interested.

I looked up and met Piper’s eyes. It was time we talked. I wondered if we would still be friends once the truth was out.

When it was safe, I sent Piper back to haul in the greens I had collected. It was just the two of us as he piled the assortment of pine cones, balsam boughs and other greens in the mud room.

His green eyes were sad; his usual vivacity quashed. I knew he was torn between loyalties but there was no need for him to suffer on my behalf.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were a mage?” he demanded, with a trace of anger.

I pulled him down to the padded bench and leaned forward taking both his hands in mine.

“Piper, I’m not a mage,” I declared emphatically.

He shook his head more in sorrow than disgust.

“Piper! I’m going to tell you everything. I won’t ask you to keep it a secret from your friends. But if they make it known to many others, I’ll have to disappear.”

His shoulders relaxed and he stopped trying to pull away from me. “Okay, I’ll listen.”

I nodded my thanks. “First, I’d need to know what is going on with you. My ignorance makes it impossible for me to make intelligent decisions. To help. Please talk to your friends and ask permission to clue me in. But whatever happens, you are my dear friend and my home is always open to you.”

Piper nodded intently, his eyes burning into mine and he gave my hands an encouraging squeeze.

“Next, I’m not a mage. I’m something much weirder.” I hesitated, wondering how to say it in a way that would make sense to him.

“Much weirder?” Piper echoed, his brows raising.

“Yeah.” I made a face. “Mucho, mucho weirder. I’m not begging anyone to believe me. I’ll just tell you two main facts. I’m one of the reborn and I have some siddhis.”

“Some siddhis?” he echoed in bewilderment.

I shrugged. “A few, not a lot. I’m lazy and I’m definitely not power-hungry!”

Pitying his confusion, I continued to explain. “The short version is, that there are people in this world whose consciousness kinda continues through death and are reborn. Rinse and repeat.”

“So, you have a past life you remember?” he asked. “That happens with some of my people as well.”

I nodded. “Yeah, like that! Only, I belong to the club that doesn’t remember just one past life but all of them, if we want to. Not remembering every detail -- anymore than I can remember what I had for lunch two weeks ago. Though we can create psychic markers for events, so they are never forgotten.”

“Like knowing me,” he suggested bashfully.

“Piper, you ARE a marker all by yourself,” I smiled. “Definitely, unforgettable!”

He looked happy at this, then frowned. “And the magic? What are siddhis? Magical servants?”

“Ah no,” I responded. “Would be nice to have some magical servants, yeah? No, siddhis are like…”

Feeling more than a little hounded, I groped for words.

“Um, siddhis are like the powers some of your people have. It’s not magery or witchcraft. They’re natural abilities we’re inherently capable of developing, but not many do. First, because people don’t believe it possible or never dreamed of such powers existing. And second, because it usually takes work. Siddhis have been known of for centuries in Eastern lands.”

Valiantly, I plowed on. “There’s nothing evil about them, but it’s important to know that having siddhis doesn’t make you a good person. In any case, it’s not something you want to advertise. That would be REALLY bad.”

I let go of Piper’s hands, seeing from his expression that I was getting my point across. I sank back against the wall, exhausted by the underlying tension and my need to reach him. “I work with energy and the elements--nothing spectacular. I can cloak myself from sight. I can move from point A to point B. It’s not an every day kind of thing. It takes focus, and I can’t keep it up indefinitely. Good enough for now, my friend?”

Piper nodded hard, his multi-colored locks flying, and hugged me, his eyes teary.

“I’m sorry I mistrusted you, Poe!” he sniffled.

“That’s okay,” I comforted him, petting his hair. “You have a right to question things. Now, please go talk to the others so maybe I'll know what’s going on before losing my mind!”

As he dashed out the door (sprites are not known for leisurely deportment), I took a deep breath and let myself relax into the small task of making a kissing ball; lastly adding ribbons and a sprig of mistletoe. I was a sucker for old customs.

I snuck through the downstairs, not wanting to run into anyone just yet. All was quiet, so I assumed my guests were either upstairs or outside. Ridiculing myself for being a sentimental idiot, I hung the kissing ball over the ground floor landing in front of the old wooden staircase with its wide bannister.

Standing back to admire my handiwork, I bumped into a large someone or something. The first alarmed thought in my mind was “oh shit!” Had the enemy found a way in?

I was deftly whirled around, only a little relieved to see it was Sionnach, his long-lashed eyes slanting in amusement and anticipation. One fair graceful hand stroked my face, tilting it up towards his, the other hand pressed the small of my back as if we were dancing, bringing me intimately closer to him.

“How nice to see you keep some of the old ways,” he purred. “I’d not taken you for a romantic, but I’m not complaining.”

Sionnach’s element was fire. I could feel a languid sensual warmth emanating from him, spreading throughout my body--the sensation ten times better than a sauna. It was amazing. That the red-haired fey was roguishly handsome didn’t help my resistance. “What the hell,” I thought hazily as his mouth came hungrily down on mine. “It is tradition.”
 
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[fieldbox="New traditions, Red, solid"]
(Note, this is a character commenting on the grinch book, so some of the writing comes directly from the grinch book.)

"Every Who Down in Whoville Liked Christmas a lot...
But the Grinch,Who lived just north of Whoville, Did NOT!
The Grinch hated Christmas! The whole Christmas season!
Now, please don't ask why. No one quite knows the reason."

"That sounds like something you would write if you haven't actually fleshed out the character enough to know the reason yourself." Feng interrupted the reading of Dr. Seuss book, the Grinch.

"Cal!" Thomas said warningly. Cal sighed and made a zip motion over his mouth, signaling he wouldn't say another word.

"So, where was I? Oh yes. It could be his head wasn't screwed on just right.
It could be, perhaps, that his shoes were too tight.
But I think that the most likely reason of all,
May have been that his heart was two sizes too small."

"Shouldn't that kill him?" Cal interrupted again. Thomas sighed loudly. "I'm just saying, if your heart is two sizes too small, you should not be alive. On top of that, how could a head not be screwed on just right? Is he a robot? And if it's the shoes, shouldn't he just change them? This is a very odd story Thomas."

"Cal, it's just a book. take it with a grain of salt, please." Thomas cleared his throat and continued. This time he got quite a bit further, before the voice once again disturbed them. "-I MUST find some way to stop Christmas from coming!- For Tomorrow, he knew, all the Who girls and boys, Would wake bright and early. They'd rush for their toys! And then! Oh, the noise! Oh, the Noise! Noise! Noise"

"What about moving? can't he just move to somewhere more secluded? I'm guessing he isn't hanging out with them anyways. Why does he have to live right there if it's so horribly noisy?"

"Do you want me to tell the story or not?" Thomas asked.

"Well... I never asked you to read it to begin with, it was you who said it was a Christmas tradition in your family."

"Which is why we're getting through this book even if I have to gag you to shut you up." Thomas warned him.

"Someone's getting kinky. We could make that a new Christmas tradition." Cal grinned.

"AND THE WHOS, YOUNG AND OLD.." Thomas continued loudly, ignoring Cal. The story continued for a while longer. "And he made a quick Santy Claus hat and a coat. And he chuckled, and clucked, -What a great Grinchy trick! With this coat and this hat, I look just like Saint Nick!-"

"But.." Cal started, but got quiet.

"What?" Thomas sighed.

"... Was Santa always green?" Cal asked holding back a smile.

"Shut up. -If I can't find a reindeer, I'll make one instead!- So he called his dog, Max. Then he took some red thread, And he tied a big horn on the top of his head."

"Genious, I bet that would fool your one year old at least."

Thomas now decided to just ignore his constant interruptions and continued with the story. "Then he slid down the chimney. A rather tight pinch. But, if Santa could do it, then so could the Grinch."

"So Santa is canon in this universe? Then even if the Grinch stole everything, wouldn't Santa just come by with presents afterwards? Or did the Grinch come right after the fat dude?"

"Okay, I warned you grandpa. Time for the duct tape." And true to his word, Thomas actually put on some duct tape over Cal's mouth. Cal didn't really resist, he just gave him a look that said 'really? You're really doing this?'. Mumbles came from the couch a few times, silent muttering as fast something didn't seem right. Eventually, the story was over though, and Thomas pulled off the duct tape in one go. "So, what did you think?"

"I think that if his heart was two sizes too small and then grew three sizes, how was there room for his heart in the chest? This dude should really check that with a doctor." Cal said as his fingers massaged his slightly aching mouth. "Did you really have to use tape?"

"You're such an idiot." Thomas laughed and kissed him on the cheek. "So, as promised, now we'll do something you want to do, and I promise to interrupt you so much you'll try to tie me up as well."

"Well, maybe what I had in mind already involved ropes to begin with." Cal chuckled.


[/fieldbox]
746

Warning: Hints towards sexual situation. No NSFW or explicit stuff tho.

[fieldbox="The exes, Red, Solid"]
"So, tell me what the point is of decorating a tree that will just be thrown out and die in a few months?" Cal asked as he held a box filled with red Christmas ornaments.

"You're older than me, shouldn't you know about these things?" Thomas teased him as he put up the decorations Cal was holding.

"I know that before Christianity, people in the north would use evergreen to decorate their homes to remind them that all the green would come back after winter. Then it was hijacked when Christianity wanted a holiday. I understand how it became a tradition, but what's the point of it, what makes it so appealing to do year after year after year?"

Thomas thought about it for a moment.

"I guess the point is to get closer to your family. People tend to have more time off this time of the year and we use that time off with the people closes to us. It's a symbol of love. We don't really need the tree, but it helps us bond and get closer to one another because we're doing something together."

"I see." Cal replied with very little enthusiasm.

"So you understand now?" Thomas asked.

"Yeah. I understand that you're more cheesy and sentimental than most girls I have been married to." He snickered.

"How many girls have you been married to?" Thomas crossed his arms and pierced Cal with his stare.

"Ah, you know, a few... I mean.. That was years ago, they don't matter. I haven't been married since the early 1700s, they weren't that many. Not that I've counted. I haven't been in a relationship for 150 years." He laughed slightly uncomfortably.

"Uh-hu, and how good were they?" Thomas asked directly.

"You know, being jealous of dead people aren't very noble of you." Cal pointed out.

"Never claimed to be. I'm just a simple peasant in the 21st century." Thomas explained and pulled on Cal's shirt so his whole body moved forward and the red ornaments that were left in the box dropped to the floor. "How much of what you've done with me, did you also do with them?" He whispered, pushing the man down on the couch.

"You know, I'm thousands of years old. There is nothing we could do that I haven't already done." Cal almost sighed the sentence out.

"I bet we'll find something new to do with a bit of experimentation." Thomas purred, reaching for the remote control that would turn off the ceiling lamp. The only light that helped guide them in the dark came from the Christmas tree and the ornaments that reflected some of it.

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A small segment of humanity have developed the use of what are called “siddhis.” Some of these individuals live in a monastery. Some are hermits and loners.

Then there are those of us (crooks, teachers, forest rangers or truck drivers, you name it) who organize ourselves into a closely guarded global society where our identities are shielded. We don’t use the internet to communicate--that is too dangerous.

We try to weed out the frauds, as well as people who truly believe or fantasize they have developed the power to levitate and the like. And those that have had one authentic experience, through drugs or extreme circumstances, which they can never repeat without hard work and study.

Being different is lonely. Inevitably, there will be ill-fated romances. Getting closely involved, romantically or otherwise, with a normal human being is almost impossible to do without deceit and/or heartbreak. Though there are the rare exceptions.

But, generally, if one has the fortitude and understanding to wield siddhis, one is able to keep passions in check by willpower. That's what I thought.

One minute I was standing beneath the newly-made kissing ball being embraced by the red-headed fey, Sionnach (and exceedingly pleasant it was, too), letting my willpower take a vacation, and then suddenly we were on the couch, with him partially on top of me, looking as startled as I was embarrassed.

“Sionnach, I’m so very sorry,” I blurted out. “Please forgive me! It was a reflexive action--entirely unintentional. Truly, I'm mortified. This has never happened before!”

How could I have lost my grip like that!

Sionnach wrinkled up his face as if deciding whether to angrily scold me or not. “I do prefer being consulted about these kind of things and not hauled about like a bag of oats. But Piper explained to us about your powers, so I can’t say I’m entirely surprised. And of course I understand that I’m irresistible. It’s no wonder you can’t control yourself.”

Humiliated, I squirmed about, trying to sit upright, but he gently pushed me back down. I gazed up at him and a beautiful sight it was too, with the holiday decorations as a background and the scent of evergreen in the air.

“Next time, Poe, ask first,” he murmured, as he set about making us much more comfortable.

He raised his head from his delicate ministrations for a moment and looked at me quizzically. “Oh, that’s right. Calpa said we weren’t to call you Poe, like Piper does. That it was a private nickname. So what DO we call you?”


“Names at a time like this, Sionnach?” I whispered, doing something distracting that made his eyelids flutter. “Legally, my name is R.S. Briar.”

I probably should have disengaged myself, but had been a long time since I let myself run a little wild. And he was fey—not a dangerous complication like kissing a human.

“Auris,” he sighed, rolling the word in his mouth like a sweet, sinking further into our embrace, “Auris Briar.”

I was thinking we should take this upstairs, when ...


“POE! Sionnach! What are you doing?!”

Unfortunately, it was not the scream of my conscience and good sense, but instead Piper’s shocked exclamation and to make it more humiliating, Alarc, Calpa and Tash stood across the room staring at us as well. Alarc looked mildly puzzled and curious, Piper aghast, Calpa coldly angry, and Tash – well Tash just smirked.

“Damn you Grinches!” exclaimed Sionnach rather breathlessly, rising to his feet and giving me a hand up, his back to his friends.

You know about the Grinch?” I stared at him, amazed. (I couldn’t bear to look at Piper’s face again. Not just yet. He must be so disappointed in me.)

“We know many things about mankind,” Sionnach confided in the tones of an ancient, waggling his brows to make me laugh.

Piper wasn’t waiting. “His grandfather was a love talker, Poe!”

“Ah. A gancanagh. Why am I not shocked?” I smiled teasingly at Sionnach.


Piper had pulled me by the arm away from Sionnach, his face a blend of emotions, none of which were anything like happiness.

There was no reason to feel like I had betrayed Piper. We had never been romantic with each other; never kissed, never flirted. Yet, I felt my face flush crimson when he looked at me in accusatory reproach. I felt terrible for upsetting him. But it wasn’t fair to put me on a pedestal as some sort of perpetually chaste goddess that belonged to him alone.

The six of us stood awkwardly in the large living room; the only sound now was the winter wind whistling through the trees and the crackling of the fireplace. Calpa started to stiffly walk away.

I have absolutely no talent for calculation and contrivance.

I lack the shrewd artfulness that a truly successful hostess has—that blend of diplomacy, flattery, and negotiation.

Things were moving too fast and I knew too little. Without absolutely no tact or finesse, I just plunged right into it.

“Hold it, everyone,” I said. “Things are starting to get out of control. I need to see your cards on the table, right now.”

Calpa and Alarc glanced over at the only table in the room in confusion.

Of the others, who obviously knew what I meant, Tash just folded his arms and leaned back against the wall in a stance that proclaimed that no information would be forthcoming from him. Sionnach’s expression went from friendly to aloof. And Piper just kept staring at me like a sacrificial lamb.

“I mean,” I said quietly but with weight, “I need to know what the HELL is going on. All year, each of you except Piper has bad-vibed me every time our paths crossed.”

Piper looked shocked at this.

“I’ve never done anything to be your enemy. But I thought you were damn rude, even brutish, to go out of your way to intimidate an innocent party. And then, you came here in a hurry this morning.”

Calpa made as if to say something and sternly I held up my hand for silence.

“Let me finish, please.”

Tash’s eyebrows shot up, Sionnach looked intrigued and startled, Piper’s face became panicked and Alarc didn’t turn a hair. Calpa, of course, looked outraged.

“The logical conclusion is that your home base here, wherever it is, and believe me, I didn’t ask or pry, was destroyed or compromised and that you were caught at a disadvantage. I gave you the hospitality of my home. I was happy to give you refuge for Piper’s sake.”

I gave them all a hard glance, for their attitude had not been that of gracious guests.

“Don’t think that I failed to notice that each of you is aligned to a different element as well the gentlemen that we met in the woods, who appear to want to kill you. Or at least, Calpa.”

I wrinkled my nose and looked directly at Calpa. “Of course, there could be a number of people that have you, personally, on their list.”

There was a sound of choked laughter from Tash. Calpa looked like he couldn’t believe his ears.

“However, as Calpa experienced, there is no way I could accommodate such hostile action. No need to thank me or feel like you owe me anything, there,” I continued, possibly driving daggers into Calpa’s conscience, if he had one, but definitely hitting the bull’s-eye on his pride.

“Since none of you have communicated what is going on, I’ve had to make some rather wild guesses. For example, I noticed one of your enemies bears a resemblance to you, Alarc.”

I turned and directly faced Alarc, watching his reaction. There was no surprise or any sign that this was news to him.

I nodded and continued, “Whatever you have planned, I have a feeling that the clock is ticking for you guys. Today, tomorrow, the end of the year? By now, Piper has told you my secrets. He’s never told me any of yours. I’d like to continue to give you refuge while you regroup. If your cause is just, I’d like to help. But you need to tell me what is going on. Blind faith is not an option here.”

I gave a searing glance to each one of them, even Piper, whose expression had calmed down to a mild panic.

“Think about it and give me your decision after lunch,” I finished. “Unless you want to leave before that.”

There was dead silence. Which failed to make me feel all warm and fuzzy.

I turned my back on them and walked into my kitchen, tying on a red holiday apron with a border of cheerful gingerbread people. I put the finishing touches on some dishes I had started earlier. Yes, I was crap at diplomacy. But I could cook.

Breakfast for six had taken me by surprise earlier, but this time I had set up the table the way that I liked it. A simply-embroidered gold and red runner over a large tablecloth of pure white. A wreathlike centerpiece, greens with white berries, and a candle in the middle. I plunked down my everyday place settings of white in the kitchen, but tonight, dinner would be served in the dining room and I would get to use my special reindeer plates.

Even if I was the only one.

I hoped to hell the situation didn’t end up with blood and dead bodies all around.
 
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pls enjoy <33

. - It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas

It was the 22nd of December, and Carol was looking forward to her perfect Christmas. It had to be perfect. There was no other option. Sitting upright in her bed, she gave a long stretch before bouncing off and down onto the carved log floor. Behind her, Meredith grumbled ønd shifted on the bottom bunk. Carol's lips thinned, and she almost snapped at her older cousin to be more festive, but restrained herself. It wasn't Christmas yet. She could sleep in.

Outside her room, she strode down the wood hall, passing as always three doors to her right and two doors to her left before coming to the railing looking down upon the cabin's living room. "GoOoOOod mooOOrning everyone," Carol sang out at those below her. Extended family sat and stood scattered across the expansive room, decked in all manner of thick sweaters and warm pajamas. Around the walls, large windows showcased endless waves of white, cascading out of site further down the mountain that the cabin rested on.

A handful of "morning"'s and "hey Carol"'s sprang up from the assembled uncles and cousins and grandparents in response to Carol, though most seemed to caught up in their coffe£\ to pay her much mind. Carol's mother, however, gave her a warm smile, and her father moved towards the railing, arms outstretched. "Come give your old man a hug, sweetie."

. - Merry Birthmas

Taking a few paces back for space, Carol skipped forward and skillfully tumbled over the railing into her father's waiting arms. "Morning, Da."

"Good morning, my little gymnast," he answered, setting Carol down. He gave a playful groan as he straightened, hands on the small of his back. ‘'Õof. These ricke±yÎ bones can't up with you much longer."

"Don't be silly," Carol chided on her way to the kitchen. "You're gonna live forever." She fell silent for a moment as she rooted through the fridge, but soon straightened with hands on hips and turned back to the living room. "Where's the orange juice? I can't find it."

Uncle Rene raised a hand, his other holding a tall, cool glass of bittersweet orange juice. "Finished it," he admitted shamelessly.

"When are you getting more?" Carol asked, only to get a blank look in return. Somewhere amidst the family swarm, she thought she heard someone mutter disapprovingly. "We can't just not have orange juice." The idea of being deprived her favourite drink come Christmas morning was impossible.

"There's plenty of other thïngs tº( и£|nk," ³ù„ncle Rene said.
"I'll go grab some this evening," Carol's mother cut in. "Can't have you going without on Christmas."


"Definitely not when it's your sweet sixteen," Carol's father agreed.

Carol smiled. One less thing standing in the way of her and her perfect Christmas. Her perfect birthday. "Thank you."

. - Green

"Not so fast, sis," Aunt Tess spoke up. "We're going skiing tonight, remember? You can't cheat me of watching you fall flat on your face that easily."

Carol's mother laughed. "It entirely slipped my mind. Don't worry Carol, I'll grab your orange juice tomorro-"

Tess tsked. "No can do. Stores are closed tomorrow. Carõ¼, why don't you go gräþ`/lt¹?» She pulled out·à·wallet before Carol could even begin to form a pout. "I'll throw in an extra twenty if you bring Henry along with you."

"Of course, Auntie Tess," Carol answered with a thin smile. Winter was meant to be enjoyed indoors, not by trudging through knee deep snow for an hour to go on errands. The only reason she didn't refuse out of principle was for the chance to snag some time with Henry. It had been a few years since she'd seen Tess's son, but all her memories of him were fond. Accepting the offered cash, Carol continued. "Is he still upstairs?"

Tess nodded. "That boy wouldn't wake up before œne without a ‰¦edgehÄ¢mmer¯ƒor encourðgæment."

Carol ignored her aunt almost as much as she ignored the stairs, lithely pulling herself back up and over the railing before running past three doors on her left and two on her right to get to her room to get changed. First impressions were important, and she was determined to set an unslovenly example for Henry.

. - Wrapped with a bow

Ignoring the slumbering, grumblÏng form of Meredith still wallowing in her bottom bunk, Carol set to work choosing out her outfit for the day. Her red and green striped stockings, of course. The perfect mixture of festive, warm, and striking. Over top of that went a similarly colored heavy skirt, alongside a green blouse and red v-neck sweater. Christmas may have still been a few days away, but 'twas the season. Finally, grabbed a wrapping bow previously snagged from a present, pulled it out into a ribbon, and used it to tie back her hair. Perfect.

"You look like a c^nd¡µ ¢an€." Meredi±h's voice spoke out from beneath a heâp of blaÑketsr¼‰8 thick enough that Carol wasn't sure how Meredith could even see her.

"Thank you," Carol said tartly. "That's very kind of you."

"It wa§n·t a c²0mp¬LÌmê˴ѱ±–¦«¨O«°™¾} M‹redi+) quiœtly muttered as she dri†+ed back to sleep.`/°

With a vocal sniff, Carol turned on her heel and left, only barely restrained herself from slamming the bedroom door. Perfect. She was going to make this holiday perfect.

She stalked back down the hallway, passing the two doors on the left and the first two on the right before stopping in front of the third. After taking a moment to straighten her clothes, Carol politely knocked before letting herself in to Henry's room.

"Who's the-aghble," Henry jolted upright as she did, for a moment too caught off guard to pull his blanket up with him to cover his chest and shoulders. "You're supposed to wait after knocking."

Carol only smiled at the flustered Henry. "Come on, we've got errands to run."

"Jesus." Henry rubbed the sleep out of his eyes before narrowing them. "What's with that ribbon? Is that even meant for haîr?"

"I'll be waiting by the front door," Carol said, punctuating her words with a jaunty clap. "So no dilly dallying."

. - Frost

Outside, Carol was already shivering by the time Henry joined her, lost amidst a sea of jackets and scarves as if in direct opposition to how she had found him earlier. Wanting to get out of the snow as fast as possible, Carol didn't even wait for him to take two steps before grabbing his arm and dragging him behind her. Though it was difficult to get a grip on him through so many layers, and he quickly pulled free.

"Will you chill out?" he asked, voice more dejected than annoyed.

Carol playfully stuck out her tongue and began hopping up and down as she went in an attempt to get hot blood flowing. "Naaaah. I'm a child of spring."

"You were literally born in the middle of winter. You're birthday is in, like, three days. And it's winter."

"I mean metaphorically, obviously." Carol tried lifting up her skirt to avoid having it drag so through the snow, but doing so only managed to make her arms heavier and her legs colder, so she soon gave up on it. "Besides, I didn't even have thoughts or object permanence until spring, so it checks out."

Henry sighed. "You wºùldn¨t have had object permanance for a lot longer than that." Then, quietly enough that Carol barely caught it: "I'm su®‘pr^ísed you even know what thæt is„"

They walked on in silence for a while, Carol shiv£ring in the c•—o9õld, Henry seemingly unaffecteÐ.

"So Henry~"
"What are we even going to get, anyway?" Henry as‡ed.


"Orange juice. Uncle Rene drank it all."

Henry frøŒwned. "Don't we still have tons of other juice? And milk? I know we're loaded up on egg nog."

"But no orange juice," Carol sniffed. "So we're going to get some." Henry opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the end settled for a sigh and a shrug.

. - Mistletoe

As the mountain's general store finally came into sight, Carol couldn't help but grin. The snow had long since me±|‰d through her stock^Ngs and settled in her boØts*, leaving everything from thŒ waist down numb fr×m ¢¢old. At least inside she'd be wár/n.

Yet even with thoughts of glorious radiators and heaters filling her mind, she stopped just before the door as something caught her eye. On the step below, Henry was also forced to pause as she blocked the way.

Stomping the excess snow from his boots, he gestured towards the door. "After you."

Carol didn't move, except to pull Henry up onto the top step with her, still blocking the door in. "Henry."

He leaned back. "Y… yeah?"

"Look up."

Doing so, he noticed nothing at first. Just a flickering old light and a sprig of mistletoe stapled to the top of the door frame. He opened his mouth to ask Carol what he was supposed to be looking for, but before he could get a word out, Carol interrupted him with a kiss. For the second time in an hour he found himself too stunned to react, before his mind caught up and, s¶I²´uttering, he shovÊ~1D ¢^Ç´arol ba=Çk anн·²‘Òff the steþs ‡n‡‡o the snWœ. "W8•¡Î th¾ê ‹£uc„k, ¢Caˆ‹ol?»›s<1e shØÙtËd. "Wꉷre ·ÇÖܼ‰Šîn$!i`'

"Barely", Carol waÌlëd, ‡eÁªrs ¢ôld on her cheeks. "You're not even a step-cousin. You're an adopted step-cousin. It doesn't even count as family!"

;'±#at`s îít," he sâÝd,. "¦¸m ¥èàd(ng hø˜me;"

. - The Grinch

Carol sat alone on the top bunk in her and Meredith's room, crying into her hands. She had the room to herself for once, Meredith rousing herself from her sleep to go talk to Henry. As if Henry needed comforting. Henry wasn't shoved into the snow and forced to walk all the way home alone, soaked to the bone with ice and snØw. Henry was fine. H*ênry ¥à+ed her.

It wasn't fair. They weren't even related. Twice over they weren't related! Why did he have to go throwing the word 'cousin' around? "He's not family!" Carol wailed to herself. "He's not! He's not!"

"Shµ}t uþ," Meredith nearly shø˜uted, slammiñ×g the door ßËh¦nd her. Carol hadn't heard her enter. "What's wrong with you, çaying he isn't family? You think that's easy for h—¦m to hear, ßeing ’Ä‘dopted? MÉ â`/ T€§§ hœâve wQ¬rked hard tÓ) make ‡1?m fe˦ a+ ¶óm£ an€+ˆá1ú}׺qo"qlÞcиäÈŠ#ÝT

"You're ruining it," Carol muttered against the tirade. "Go away."

"Go awaY?s" M‹redi+) »c•—o9õ¼µ8¶ùiéQ‰÷ÙÔ(—V‡•8ÌMD׃ôç9±WzÀÙUÆ(Å!hÛ$Â@XÛvV¶z¾Å=¿é†‡

"You don't fit my perfect Christmas."

QŸÌ2NOœ,îy¯ÙZWHYÒ^Ì7ˆHE³[XLP^”8ðöBÎÕHñŠ ELP

"I don't want you here."

Silence. Carol looked up, eyes red and hands damp from tears. She shifted on her single bed and placed her feet on the ground, though didn't stand. She felt better, after crying, but still wasn't ready to leave. Easier to just stay where she was. Try to figure out what to do about Henry.

As if on queue, he came through her door, not even bothering to knock. "M‹redi+)?"

Carol bolted to her feet. "Who?"

Henry frowned, raising a hand to his temple. Oddly, his eyes also looked bloodshot. Almost as though he had been crying too. Out of guilt, Carol hoped. "Where Ls §Žhêä̸?" He said, ignoring Carol's question.

"Me?" Carol asked, confused. "This is my room. No one else comes in here."

He stumbled back, a panicked look in his eyes. "I don't understand. Wh0 wå$·¬¨" Now clutching at his head with both hands, Henry turned and ran from the room, disappearing into the bathroom down the hall.

"Henry, wait!" Carol shouted after him, moving to follow.

. - R E D

{content warnings}

Henry had locked the door behind him, and it took Carol what seemed like ages to force it open. When she did, she was greeted with a scene of horror. Red lined the linoleum. Red dripped from the edge of the sink. And red filled the bathtub. And inside was Henry. Beautiful, flustered, precious Henry, wrists sliced nearly from elbow to palm. Ðýead, with razors þy his handšú and fog in his e%es. Her Henry wÅ¡s d€Å±Ñ¡¬LXj ý<ÔÏ8SÄ U~¡

Henry had locked the door behind him, and it took Carol awhile to force it open. When she did, she was greeted with a scene of tragedy. An empty prescription bottle lay on it's side by her feet, pills scattered across the floor. And there, eyes closed and chest still by the sink, was Henry. Beautiful, flus‡†[Ä¢^Ç´PѯZ7— €ëy„™g”° ±ù–8ð¦–


Henry had locked the door behind him, but it didn't take Carol long to force it open. When she did, she was greeted with a scene of suffering. Tied firmly to the rafters was a rope. And hanging from it's cruel embrace was HenŸ±|íˆ Å»WªšˆÃL ¡¨8ð6f·


Henry had barely closed the door behind him when Carol burst in after him. When she did, she was greeted with a scene of violence. A knife - where did he get a knife - held firml—ã(Ž^¿š 8ð)/ù²á€[þH §Û3Ž<


Henry was still closing the door behind him when Carol caught up with him. When she did, she was greeted witd§„2£EçÓ¦¥ !P¦þ ‰ç


Henry had barely reached the bathroom when Caro(OE÷œ\ï OH¥i•›vÊÓÌî


Henry had ba௦ü¸mù<ñ*]8˜ð>©Ë DÄAÍ*Š5³NS


Henr‹ãÚöÝ&7


HENR™ãXÉ–¦c,1


H E N Rhű†[Ä¢^Ç´


H E N RˆTÎQò☳~ë


Once Carol had collected and warmed herself after that atrocious slog through the snow, she stood up from her single bed and left her room. Heading down the hall to the living room, she passed as always two doors on her right and two doors on her left. And no more than that.
 
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