[h3]Secret Santa 2017 Submissions[/h3] [i]Thank you to all of those who have participated![/i] [hider=Gift for NarayanK][b]From:[/b] [@Crimmy] [b]To:[/b] [@NarayanK] [b]Type of Work:[/b] Short story [b]Description:[/b] Karaniya matthakusalena Shuai Taidan loved Christmas. He loved the happy, lovestruck couples, taking their partners in a romantic embrace surrounded by moonlit snow. He loved the joyful smiles on the faces of children, their eyes lighting up every time Santa fulfilled another one of their myriad dreams. He loved the families gathered warmly around the fireplace, sipping away at their eggnog and commiserating in cherished memories. Christmas was a time of positivity, a celebration of all the good that had occurred over the passing year so that all could stride into the future with a skip in their step. Christmas, distilled to its essence, was good. It didn't matter how one approached Christmas. It didn't matter whether somebody believed in fairies or gods, or didn't believe at all. It didn't matter what meaning they sought, whether it was goodwill or capitalism or piety or whatever. How one's philosophy coloured their views towards Christmas simply didn't matter. That was subjective and contentious. It didn't matter to Christmas. Christmas was just good. There wasn't anything, of course, that stopped somebody from debating what exactly goodness was supposed to entail. Kant? Aristotle and Plato? Augustine and Aquinas? All legitimate attempts at reasoning out the nitty-gritty of the thing. Or was it supposed to be understood through the lens of 仁 or 慈? Right now however, it didn't really matter that much. Christmas was good. After all, was it not the Sage who said that "he who seeks it has already found it"? To celebrate Christmas was to celebrate good. If those who did so were motivated by a desire to have a good time, to do something good, to be good, et cetera, then wasn't that fine? He wasn't understating the importance of knowing the depths of goodness, but for everyone at this time of year, taking in the Christmas spirit in whatever manner they wanted, they had already been blessed. The specifics may have still been vague and unclear, undefinable by the beliefs harboured by mankind, but that was fine. Christmas was good. They were celebrating Christmas. They were good to do so. Christmas was good, and celebrating it was too. A series of incredibly tautological statements, but he didn't mind. Not that he could find the energy to mind. [center][img]https://i.imgur.com/0TyzVfR.jpg[/img][/center] Shuai Taidan hated Christmas. He hated the exhausting rituals that they had to perform every year, from cutting down the tree to setting up the decorations. He hated the onslaught of [i]stuff[/i] that left his mind in a tizzy, the endless rush of "too much", of noise and light that would unceasingly assault him for the month of December every time he went down to the shops. He hated the scent of the mouthwatering meal lying on the dinner table that he had helped cook and prepare, but was forced to wait endlessly as if it was a cruel and unusual form of torture until everything else was done before he could dig in. It was a true hell. The elements of earth, fire and water had abandoned him long ago. He had become a being that consisted of nothing but air and ākāśa. An egui, forever starving in an empty wasteland within the kāmadhātu. No matter how much he regretted everything, the karma of his past life would not let him escape the preta realm. He had coveted too much. He had been a glutton. And when the gods looked upon the world, they had given him fitting punishment. The torment that was waiting for Christmas dinner. Waiting for saṃvartakalpa to come so he could be free. "[color=CE2029]Give it to me straight, doc,[/color]" he croaked out, voice as dry as sand being roasted in Avīci. He was lying horizontally across a sofa, his hands clasped together atop the white shirt that covered his chest. "[color=CE2029]Will I live?[/color]" A pistol was placed down on the wooden table between them with a soft thud. Shuai Liwang leaned back into soft leather, expression ponderous before beginning to speak. "[color=#8E4585]天長地久。天地所以能長且久者，以其不自生，故能長生。是以聖人後其身而身先；外其身而身存。非以其無私耶？故能成其私.[/color]" Taidan huffed, pursing his lips frustratedly and blow. He lightly kicked up his bare feet with the immaturity of a five year old, before they dropped back down without any energy. "[color=CE2029]I cooked that chicken myself. I deserve to eat the fruits of my labour![/color]" "[color=#C0C0C0]The flesh is riper with time,[/color]" said Shuai Taiyin sagely, snapping shut her book. The two wild strands of untamed hair protruding from her head wiggled at Taidan. "[color=#C0C0C0]Just wait a bit longer bro, yeah?[/color]" "[color=CE2029]... Is that supposed to be a quote?[/color]" The handsome girl shrugged, her grey hoodie flopping in response to the movement. "[color=#C0C0C0]Well Liwang busted one out, so I decided to make one up myself,[/color]" she explained, breaking out into a wide smile. "[color=#C0C0C0]I nailed it, right? Right?[/color]" "[color=CE2029]Nope.[/color]" "[color=#8E4585]Unfortunately, no.[/color]" Complete and utter rejection. "[color=#C0C0C0]Screw you guys,[/color]" she declared, huffing as she stood up, arms crossed. "[color=#C0C0C0]I'm gonna play Monopoly upstairs with the chibis instead.[/color]" She started towards the staircase. There was a rumbling of feet above them. A flood of ahoges came down, rushing down the wooden steps like a thunderstorm and barging into the kitchen. And then silence. "[color=#8E4585]They don't look like they want Monopoly,[/color]" Liwang offered with a quiet, subdued giggle as another pistol was placed down on the table. "[color=#8E4585]Why not hang with us instead?[/color]" "[color=#C0C0C0]You guys are lame and old and trying to be all mature.[/color]" "[color=#8E4585][i]Really[/i].[/color]" Taidan became acutely aware that there was a pair of gazes aimed in his direction. The grouchy young man rolled up into a sitting position, drawing his knees in and hugging them. He wasn't appreciating being judged like that at Christmas, okay? He was definitely mature. Not lame and old or anything but he was way more mature than some bratty kid like Taiyin. "[color=CE2029]I'm ... wait are you saying it's bad for me to be mature?[/color]" He was losing the train of the conversation rather rapidly. Even though he was trying to snatch at the thoughts, there was a major distraction keeping him for staying on the rails. That being, of course, the complete lack of foodstuff within his belly, and a fiery and cheery guy like him would burn out before long without the energy! But he was mature anyway. He was almost certain of it. He couldn't be awesome otherwise. Right? Taiyin grinned. "[color=#C0C0C0]You have the memory of a geezer too, bro.[/color]" "[color=CE2029]Get off my case,[/color]" he grumbled, flopping back onto the sofa, body sprawled against the leather. His memory was perfectly fine. It was his little cousin who was being in the wrong here. The young were supposed to be filial and respectful towards their elders, and Taiyin was definitely not fulfilling either of those criterion. How could she be overflowing in love when she was poking at him? But he wasn't a super old guy either; he was young and hip, a handsome example of a huntsman! That didn't mean she wasn't doing a wrong though: he might still be part of the same generation as her (which was why they had the shared generation names) but he was older, [b]so there[/b]. "[color=#8E4585]You said that last part out loud,[/color]" Liwang calmly pointed out. Taidan rolled over petulantly like a grouch from a children's television show, hiding his face from his cousins. "[color=CE2029]Blurgh.[/color]" "[color=#8E4585]Ah, you're getting hungrier.[/color]" "[color=#C0C0C0]Does bro do this often or something?[/color]" Liwang nodded. "[color=#8E4585]He seems to be advancing at a rapid pace,[/color]" explained the eldest of the Shuai cousins bemusedly. "[color=#8E4585]He might not even be able to make it to the dinner table when the cooking is done.[/color]" Only a man with perfect 德 could be immune to the ravages of starvation. And not even he, Shuai Taidan, was someone who walked the path of gaining punya, to ensure that all actions he undertook were kuśala so that the three poison would be rendered extinct. Cultivating such power wasn't his thing, as great as embarking on the āryāṣṭāṅgamārga sounded. He was too bound to the cycle of rebirth. Even if he was forever to be weighed down by negative karma, it would be on the mortal realm that he sought uprightness. No way he was going to give up dinner. A dinner that seemed so far away ... Ah, this truly was Diyu. And whose court had he been sent to anyways? Pingdeng's? He didn't wanna be in Pingdeng's court. His stomach cried for sustenance. He could feel his energy drain away. Taidan buried his face in a pillow, his body slackening. The scent of dinner continued to taunt him. Why couldn't he just eat now ...? "[color=#C0C0C0]Is bro [i]actually[/i] shrivelling up?[/color]" "[color=#8E4585]He is.[/color]" "[color=#C0C0C0]I don't remember him being this weird![/color]" "[color=#8E4585]Usually he isn't this extreme.[/color]" Taidan could see a light. He felt the urge to pursue it. "[color=#8E4585]Hm, maybe I should step in.[/color]" Something landed on Taidan's head. It was wrapped in plastic. The youth groggily reached out, grabbing at the sudden intruder to his slow descent into waste and pulling it into view. Under the warm light above them, its identity was immediately obvious. A candy cane. Food. Nobody had ever unravelled sweets faster than Shuai Taidan had at that very moment. The prettyboy pyromaniac extraordinaire of Beacon Academy's renowned Team HTTS was ridiculously quick at liberating the candy cane, and in an instant, it was in his mouth, chomped down ravenously as if he was a starving animal. Which he pretty much was, actually. "[color=CE2029]Hiding food's not cool,[/color]" he said to Liwang after a few moments, having completely removed all traces of the candy cane from any part of the world that was not within the body of Shuai Taidan. Nobody could blame him for being so fast; he was a hungry huntsman, and it wasn't like he'd been able to eat much else in his previously lethargic state. The lives of those sworn to fight Grimm were truly harsh, for they would be plagued by the greatest weakness of all: not having enough food, and thus no energy, to combat the hordes that would destroy mankind! Grimm wouldn't be able to hit them here though. That meant his comparison was pretty much worthless, didn't it? Maybe he still wasn't up to speed. Which was why he really wanted to eat that chicken. What could be greater a feeling than the satisfaction of consuming one's own creation? Just a candy cane wouldn't do at all. "[color=#8E4585]I originally wanted to eat it myself,[/color]" replied Liwang with a gentle shrug. "[color=#8E4585]But you weren't looking too hot.[/color]" "[color=#C0C0C0]Seriously,[/color]" agreed the younger cousin. "[color=#C0C0C0]You were mutating like in the movies. It was creepy.[/color]" "[color=CE2029]But you're still hanging with us?[/color]" There was a teasing pep to Taidan's happy-sounding, chirped observation that hadn't been there earlier. Having food was certainly good for his mood. "[color=CE2029]Aren't we supposed to be lame and old?[/color]" "[color=#C0C0C0]Well the chibis aren't hanging around me either, are they?[/color]" asked Taiyin affrontedly. Taidan and Liwang exchanged looks. "[color=#8E4585]Then you've become one of us,[/color]" said the latter with an understanding, sympathetic nod. "[color=#8E4585]You too are an old geezer now.[/color]" "[color=#C0C0C0]No way.[/color]" "[color=CE2029]No shame in facing the truth~[/color]" added Taidan, opening his arms wide in a welcoming manner. He was also trying to avoid letting his mind be distracted by the scent of chicken. "[color=CE2029]Accept geezerhood, Taiyin. Together, we can -[/color]" It was like a dam had broken. Meals were being brought to the dinner table for the entire assemblage of Shuais. "[color=#8E4585]Ah, Taid-[/color]" Taidan was already gone. Gone to eat at the chicken he himself had made. The chicken that had eluded him, taunted him for his inability to grasp hold of it and eat it. But now, the time had come. Dinner had officially begun. He could eat now. He was free. It was probably out of character of him, but he couldn't help but rush to the table. And of the two Taidan had left behind, Liwang was the first to act, standing up with a sigh. "[color=#8E4585]Let's go join our fellow geezer. He'll need to be stopped before he tries to eat everything.[/color]" "[color=#C0C0C0]Not a geezer![/color]"[/hider] [hider=Gift For Nevix]From: Tominas To: [@Nevix] Type of Work: Short story, gift for Orrin Description: A young lad struggles to introduce himself to his teammates. Gifts ensue. Blaine took a breath. Slow and easy, eyes closed as he exhaled. He rolled three small emblems around in his huge hands, each hand-carved into an individual wooden disk about the size of a half-dollar. Each disk showed a small image, each different than the last on one face but all bearing the same concept on the back, a deep set obelisk carefully etched, with a small, shallow relief of the four emblems of Team OBIS. To each disk, a small leather thong was affixed, large enough to be worn around the wrist or neck. Each ornament had been the product of a good bit of work, all hopefully reflecting their owner’s personality and preferences through a combination of their own emblems and Blaine’s creative license. They weren’t much, as Blaine only had what little information he could glean before meeting each of them, but everyone liked presents. Right? Right. Three teammates, three gifts. Starting things off the right way. Hopefully. One of the disks bore a shield, etched in deep. Behind it stood crossed rifles, pennants fluttering from the tips and bayonets affixed. Not an exact match to the original emblem, but close. On the shield, a large letter ‘O’ was cut, great care taken to make a near-perfect circle. It was likely the simplest of the three, but that simplicity combined with a high relief revealed a strength of personality. Another carried a slanted image of a fox streaking across the face of a plain, wind whipping around its tail. It carried a sickle in its mouth, curving off to the side and slicing through the tall grass. It was a dynamic image, and had taken Blaine the good part of a day to make sure the air currents looked natural. If one looked carefully, the sickle seemed to cut a twisted ‘I’ into the blades around the creature. The last engraving was complicated. At its core, it was a basic idea, but the execution was a different story. A pair of concentric eyes, the innermost turned sideways to resemble an iris. In the sclera of the outer eye the scene of a Beowulf, stabbed by some kind of long polearm showed, ichor oozing from its toothy maw as it clutched at its unseen midsection, covered by the second eye. The image was etched deeply on the outer edges, gradually growing more shallow towards the center, where the wood was smooth and unblemished. The liquid seeping from the beast’s mouth seemed to get caught in its fur, forming a sticky ‘S’ darker than the surrounding fur. Around his own neck, the faunus bore a leather strap himself, though he kept it beneath the tight-fitting collar of his uniform. It was something he had carried himself for a long time, but an additional relief had been made upon the back of the disk, tying it to the recent creations. Every team fought together, but Obelisk was going to accessorize together, by the gods. [hr] The sun rose. Blaine stood outside Orrin’s door, the oak panels towering below him. Beyond the wooden barrier before him lay the dwelling place of his teammate, his place of rest and refuge. In this very room, the man he had not yet met yet who would be his shield in combat, his rock in the fight, his brother in arms and blood, slept. A cold sweat broke out across the faunus’s body, his brows furrowed and his eyes staring down the door with an intensity unmatched by the fiercest warrior in the throes of death and gore. What passed felt like an eternity, when in fact it was a mere two hours. His clothes were soaked, his teeth clenched, a vein pulsing in his temple as his neck strained, his fist poised to knock. The sun set. In the end, he sent the gifts through the school’s mail center.[/hider] [hider=A Gift for Plank and Snow (God Rest Ye Merry, Santa Gwen)]From: Krayzikk To: [@Plank Sinatra] [@HereComesTheSnow] Type of Work: Short Story Description: Did you tell Santa Gwen what you wanted for Christmas~? [color=00008b]“So where to, Miss Gwen?”[/color] [color=0000ff]“Did you bring the car around?”[/color] [color=00008b]“Mhm!”[/color] Gwen was almost regretting her sense of humor. Almost. It had been a joke, calling her young charge a reindeer, but the girl had somehow managed to craft a pair of small antlers quite literally overnight. It looked like she had found a pair of suitable branches outside, and carefully smoothed them out and ensured that they were suitably shaped before attaching them to a headband. It was actually rather impressive, and brought a smile to her face. Des was a bit of a smartass. But an endearing one. [color=0000ff]“Further south, then. Another day, if we make good time.”[/color] She drew her fur cloak tighter around herself and threw her pack over a shoulder, pausing on her way out the door to ruffle her reindeer’s hair. Des had already brought her bag out, but dutifully made a quick sweep of the inn room before she followed the older woman out the door. The silver coupe idled at the curb, just as promised, and Des had even taken the time to make sure the heater was running. Another smile to Gwen’s face. On mornings like this, where she could see her breath and cold threatened to seep into her very bones, she hated heading out to the car. She never complained, but her sidekick had taken notice anyway. She was a good kid like that. [color=0000ff]“The road only goes part of the way, but we can leave the car behind safely. We’ll go the rest of the way on foot.”[/color] [color=00008b]“Is this what you do every Christmas?”[/color] [color=0000ff]“More or less,”[/color] She admitted, dropping her pack in the trunk and circling around to the driver’s seat. Des had already hopped into shotgun and pulled the door closed, eager to be inside where it was warm. Gwen didn’t blame her. It took just a second to gather her cloak so it didn’t get closed in the gull wing door and slip into the driver’s seat, where the car thrummed eagerly under her touch. [color=0000ff]“At least for a week or two.”[/color] [color=00008b]“How come?”[/color] The blonde woman considered the question a moment, while guiding the car away from the curb and back onto the road. The guards at the front gate were expecting her, and opened the heavy wooden doors as soon as she approached to let her out onto the well-trodden dirt road. It didn’t see travel by car very often, not this far from the capital, but she was loathe to leave it behind. Alone, perhaps she would have made the trip without it. It would only take her a little longer on horseback. But with Des and winter both present… The car it was. [color=0000ff]“Someone needs to.”[/color] She said simply, with a faint shrug of her shoulders. [color=0000ff]“It isn’t as though the post office can make the trip. Not out here. And hiring professional couriers is expensive. So I don’t mind ferrying a few packages to the boonies around Christmas.”[/color] [color=00008b]“They take up most of the trunk, Miss Santa.”[/color] [color=0000ff]“Perhaps more than a few.”[/color] She amended, with a faintly rueful smile. [color=0000ff]“Deeds worth doing are rarely easy.”[/color] That made Des giggle, and the car quieted for a time. She could be a bit of a chatterbox, especially if she was nervous, but she never seemed to mind that Gwen liked her quiet. It might have been respect, Lord known she would’ve chopped off her own arm if she thought it’d make Gwen’s life easier, but she never seemed to mind the quiet either. Sometimes she read (Gwen was fairly certain that the girl’s own pack mostly contained books, rather than more practical things), sometimes she listened to music, and sometimes she just watched. Watched the world go by, watched Gwen drive, whatever caught her fancy. Gwen herself watched the road, of course; the road and the world beyond it. She rarely took the same route twice, so there was always something to see. Not that it was really intentional. She didn’t really pick where she went, she just… Went. It was hard to explain why. Des had asked, once. [i]Why don’t you map it out, Miss Gwen? So we can plan ahead?[/i] It didn’t really work like that, she had to apologetically explain. She just knew where she needed to go, and she went. She didn’t really know why, she explained. Well, that part was a little bit of a white lie. She had a pretty good guess why. But it did mean that her routes could be eccentric and hard to plan around. But her little protege always took it in stride, borrowing Gwen’s Scroll and using whatever reception she could get to make arrangements for when they stopped. It was helpful having a copilot, it meant she didn’t have to wing it [i]quite[/i] as much as she used to. Des pulled more than her weight, usually without being asked. From the moment she started tagging along she simply saw what she could do to help, and did it as seamlessly as possible. No complaints about her guardian’s eccentricities, or the sometimes arduous trips they sometimes meant. This one, at least, was pretty. Snow already blanketed the ground, making the road treacherous in places, but as they drove more started to fall. Thick, beautiful flakes from a storm gray sky. It was almost beautiful enough to distract from the region’s hazards. Grimm stood out starkly against such beauty. [color=0000ff]“So what do you want for Christmas? You haven’t told me.”[/color] The blonde asked, after a few hours in their snowy purgatory. The purple-headed girl’s ears instantly perked up, protests forming before even a breath had passed. [color=00008b]“You don’t have to get me anything, Miss Gwen.”[/color] [color=0000ff]“Nonsense. It’s Christmas. You’d pout if I tried to stop you from getting [i]me[/i] anything.”[/color] Her smile widened a little when she saw Des’ mouth open to argue, and close a second later in defeat. The faint little frown was the proof she’d won that round. [color=0000ff]“So come on, tell me. What do you want for Christmas?”[/color] [color=00008b]“I don’t need anythiiiing.” A beat, and a deeper frown. “... There are a couple books.”[/color] [color=0000ff]“And a Scroll?”[/color] She enjoyed, for a few moments, the wide eyes and vehement shaking of her ward’s head. [color=0000ff]“You use [i]mine[/i], dear Des, and you forget to close your tabs. I know you’ve been looking at them for months.”[/color] [color=00008b]“Absolutely not!”[/color] Gwen was, at this point, pretty sure she was going to shake the antlers off of her head. [color=00008b]“Miss Gwen, Scrolls are expensive. Like, several hundred lien. Don’t even think about it. Please.”[/color] [color=0000ff]“Don’t take it up with me, take it up with Santa.”[/color] [color=00008b]“You [i]are[/i] Santa. You were wearing the hat yesterday.”[/color] She actually laughed, that time, a warm sound right from her core that ended any frowning from Des instantly despite her best efforts. The girl giggled a little, too, which sabotaged her attempt at looking stern. [color=0000ff]“You’re right. Where is that? I should have it on today.”[/color] Des giggled again and turned around to rummage through the small storage space for a moment. She deposited the red hat on Gwen’s head when the older woman leaned over to offer it, smiling to herself the whole time. Gwen took a hand off the wheel to point behind her, and glance in Des’ direction. [color=0000ff]“Hot cocoa in the thermos, reindeer. I figure it’s about that time of day.”[/color] [color=00008b]“When did you manage [i]that[/i]. I was up before you.”[/color] [color=0000ff]“When you’re my age, Des, you will have your own ways. Enough talking, more cocoa drinking.”[/color] Not that Gwen could look any more stern than Des, it was impossible to keep the smile off of her face. [color=0000ff]“Enjoy the warmth. We’ll have to walk the last leg.”[/color] Des did make a little face, for just a second, at that before she poured herself some cocoa and put the mug in the passenger side cupholder. And, without missing a beat, poured a second mug for the driver side. Silence again reigned while both drank, watching the storm intensify. Gwen hadn’t been driving very fast to begin with, not with the unpaved road below her, but she had to slow down even more. Not something she enjoyed, given how fast she liked to make her little coupe go. But necessary. It was looking even more likely that they might have to ditch the car a little early. But the morning and afternoon both passed without much incident, and Des brought a book out to read. At Gwen’s request, she read it out loud a little sheepishly. Gwen didn’t interrupt and simply listened, silently shaking her head when Des paused long enough to offer to take the wheel. Her protege would probably be fine, but in weather like this she preferred not to take any chances. Best to let her rest until they had to walk. And even though she didn’t say anything, she needed to watch the horizon too. Grimm weren’t the only threat this far from major cities. The biggest, sure, but Grimm were attracted by negativity, Not something they were likely to find, especially around this time of year. Some years she made the trip without seeing anything more than one in the distance. Human threats were attracted by the opposite. This time of year marauders liked to lurk off the road and watch for passerby that showed any signs of affluence. Couriers, bearing gifts. Travelers headed for home. Anyone that had anything worth stealing. A nice car, laden with gifts, and driven by two women couldn’t be a much more tempting target. Once she accelerated suddenly, causing Des to ask her if something was wrong, to pass by what looked suspiciously like a trap. She shook her head, and explained that she just felt like going a little faster for a bit. Her ward might not have believed her, but didn’t challenge the claim. She just resumed reading. The carriage blocking the road, its horses having evidently run off based on the tracks, wasn’t something she could go around. [color=00008b]“Do they need help?”[/color] Des asked, peering through the thick snowfall to try and see what lay ahead. She reached for her door handle until Gwen laid a hand on her shoulder, and shook her head slightly. [color=0000ff]“Des, dear? Could you keep the car running?”[/color] She asked pleasantly, only taking her eyes off the scene ahead long enough to make sure Des nodded. [color=0000ff]“I’ll give them a hand and be right back.”[/color] Something about the older woman’s eyes made her nod again in understanding, and sit back in her seat. Just not before reaching behind it and offering her the hilt of the weapon stored in between the seats. Gwen nodded, and smoothly pulled it out of the car with her. The silver, conical lance was too long to fit in the car, let alone be hidden underneath her cloak, so she locked its hilt into place and carried it loosely at her side as she approached. [color=0000ff]“Can I help you?”[/color] She called out into the storm politely, her voice muffled by the wind and snow. There was no response for several minutes, not even as she drew nearer to the carriage. Until the [i]clack-clack[/i] of a shotgun being pumped made itself audible over the storm, and a man emerged barrel-first from the carriage. [color=ff0000]“Yeah, Ma, you can hand over the car keys and head back.”[/color] He gestured with the barrel towards the car, then pointed it back at her. [color=ff0000]“You and the kid.”[/color] [color=0000ff]“How are we supposed to get back in this storm?”[/color] Gwen asked, sounding mortified. She pulled her cloak tighter around herself for emphasis, and frowned. [color=0000ff]“We’ll freeze.”[/color] [color=ff0000]“It’s freeze,”[/color] The mugger racked the shotgun again for emphasis. [color=ff0000]“Or stay here permanently.”[/color] [color=0000ff]“You really, really shouldn’t do that.” [/color] [color=ff0000]“[i]Really[/i]. What are you going to do about it, grandma? You and Rudolph over there? Scold us?”[/color] He laughed, and with a wave, half a dozen others rose from the snowbanks along the road. [color=ff0000]“We’re here, go ahead and lecture.”[/color] Gwen’s smile tightened. [color=0000ff]“No, young man, I meant the gun. You just ejected a perfectly good shell.”[/color] She hefted her lance, continuing sweetly; [color=0000ff]“You’ve only got so many in there, and there’s not a lot of space between us. How many to get past my Aura, d’you think? Three? Four? I think a lot more, but that’s how many you might get off before I get to you. And of course, your friends will start firing. Might hit you, too. But I’ll tell you what.”[/color] Her lance sparked to life, bathed in crackling golden light. In a single, smooth, overhanded motion she threw it like a javelin in the direction of the carriage. Wood and metal gave way instantly with a sound like cracking thunder, smoldering where it touched and embedded itself. One moment there was a functional, albeit abandoned, carriage and the next there was simply a hole where most of the near wall had been and where her lance waited patiently. The highwayman with the shotgun flinched and fired on reflex, but Gwen didn’t so much as flinch. The pellets simply struck and fell to earth. The blonde woman leisurely grabbed the barrel of the gun, yanked it out of his hand, and examined it a moment before casting it to the side of the road. Her smile didn’t wane, but her voice came across colder than the snow. [color=0000ff]“I’ll make it easy for you. Seven of you hooligans, and just a [i]grandma’s[/i] bare hands. But since it’s Christmas, I’ll give you a second option. Drop your guns. And [i]you[/i] walk back to wherever you came from.”[/color] Her voice dropped lower, smile like a scythe’s blade. [color=0000ff]“I don’t think you’re that smart. Ruffians like you usually aren’t. How about you prove me wrong, huh big guy?”[/color] Des was giggling when she got back in the car. [color=0000ff]“What’s so funny?”[/color] [color=00008b]“You didn’t even touch them.”[/color] [color=0000ff]“Of course not,”[/color] Gwen shrugged faintly as she put the car back into gear and resumed her trip down the road… Past what remained of the would-be roadblock. [color=0000ff]“They were idiots. Only a danger to the less fortunate, which is why I scared them off.”[/color] [color=00008b]“But they might be back.”[/color] Another shrug.[color=0000ff] “If they are, then it will be on their own shoulders. I doubt they will. Fools like that have a way of removing themselves from the gene pool.”[/color] Des giggled again at that, and was quiet for a few minutes. [color=00008b]“You’re not that scary.”[/color] [color=0000ff]“No?”[/color] [color=00008b]“Mm mm. I’ve never seen you raise your voice. You don’t fight that often. I mean, Miss Gwen, you’re out delivering presents.”[/color] She paused, thinking, and then continued a little quieter. [color=00008b]“But some people think you are. And you never go visit Miss Juli.”[/color] [color=0000ff]“I never visit Julia because she’s a bad influence. The woman doesn’t wear pants, I can’t have her corrupting my protege.”[/color] At this she ruffled Des’ hair. [color=0000ff]“I’m not supposed to be scary, now am I? I’m Santa. I bring good will and cheer, not fear.”[/color] The girl rolled her eyes a little, but smiled. [color=00008b]“Miss Juli can’t be that bad.”[/color] [color=0000ff]“That’s because I refuse to leave you unattended around her. What she does with her own protege is her business, she doesn’t get to corrupt mine.”[/color] An arm slipped around Des’ shoulders, and pulled her across the car into a tight hug. She protested a little, through her slightly flustered laugh. Gwen grinned. [color=0000ff]“She can get her own reindeer.”[/color] [color=00008b]“They say you’re a swordswoman. But I’ve never seen you use a sword.”[/color] Des cocked her head (or at least tried, given her position) to regard the blonde woman quizzically. [color=00008b]“Just that lance. But a lance.”[/color] [color=0000ff]“[i]Rhon[/i] is what I use, these days. Mostly.”[/color] Gwen inclined her head a little in the weapon’s direction, without taking her eyes off the road. [color=0000ff]“It’s better suited for what I do lately.”[/color] [color=00008b]“But I’ve seen you practice with wooden swords.”[/color] Eyebrows furrowed together. [color=00008b]“Why do you practice something you don’t have?”[/color] [color=0000ff]“I have a sword.”[/color] The driver answered mildly, with a faint shrug of her shoulders. [color=0000ff]“I’ve used it, plenty of times before. But it’s safer to leave it be, most of the time.”[/color] [color=00008b]“I bet you could use it fine.”[/color] [color=0000ff]“I can,” [/color]Gwen allowed, and her smile had an alien touch to it. [color=0000ff]“It’s safer for other people. There are standards, and my blade is not for the foes you have seen. Grab your stuff.”[/color] [color=00008b]“Huh? How come?”[/color] [color=0000ff]“Road’s not safe in this storm. We’ll have to start on foot a little early.”[/color] The silver coupe pulled off to the side of the road, at least as far as it could considering the drifts, and she killed the engine. The cold seemed to seep into the air immediately, once the heater was no longer running, but they had prepared. Gwen fastened her cloak properly around her and pulled on thick woolen gloves, all while her ward gathered her own gear. It was of a similar make, Gwen had procured it for her, but of a deep regal purple instead of the royal blue that accented Gwen’s own. It would be cold out there, but their clothes were thick enough to spare them the brunt. Dust-based heaters were tucked in their packs for emergencies, just in case. Gwen climbed out of the car and popped the trunk to remove her own pack and the sack she was entrusted with, setting both carefully on the packed snow of the road. She removed Des’, as well, while she was still getting ready. Then she started piling snow atop and around the car, a ten minute process that she had Des aid in as soon as she emerged. They wouldn’t be leaving it long, and it was locked, but concealment was a better strategy than depending on the locks. When they were done the vehicle was mostly buried, concealed in the side of a snowbank. The storm would cover it the rest of the way within the hour. Gwen clambered to the top of the bank where a tall pine tree still stood above the snow, and carved a notch on its trunk; she trusted her ability to remember, but if the storm proved worse than expected the mark would show where she left the car. Des watched all of this in silence, she had seen the strategy before. It used to be that she would question the wisdom of leaving the car unattended, but to her astonishment, it had never been taken. Like many things, it was simply something she stopped questioning. [color=0000ff]“We should be there in a couple of hours,” [/color]Gwen commented, noting yet again that she could see her breath. The sooner they arrived the better. She threw her pack over one shoulder and the sack of parcels over the other, starting south as though they didn’t weigh a thing. [color=0000ff]“The mountain may be a little treacherous, so we’ll need to be careful. But just on the other side of the peak, there, is the village we’re looking for.”[/color] [color=00008b]“Don’t suppose there’s a PO box we can leave it at down here?”[/color] Her guardian laughed, a warmth in the barren landscape. And she shook her head. [color=0000ff]“No one will make the trip down here until spring, dear. That’s why we’re here.”[/color] Despite her small frown, concealed by the thickest, warmest scarf Des could find for she hated the cold even more than Miss Gwen, the younger girl followed close behind. She couldn’t match Gwen’s strides, long even in the snow, and they both knew it. The older woman matched her pace instead, continuing against the driving wind and snow in silence. The mountain was barely visible in the storm, even from where they left the car, but it gradually came into view as they walked. Emerging from the gloom far above, as though just waiting to be discovered. The weather was not kind; the wind whipped through the trees, rendering any sound from more than a few feet away inaudible. The snow obscured vision past more than a few yards. What had been a simple snow storm had quickly become a blizzard through the course of the day. A light would have been useful, even preferable, in the gloom. But Des did not ask her about one. Gwen did not wish to bring one out. The terrain was rough, but it was not hostile. Simply uncaring. The things that lurked beyond it, the shadows [i]within[/i] shadows, the sounds that made themselves faintly heard above the din, [i]were[/i]. They could find tracks in the snow, if they cared to look. Obscured by the falling snow, but not obliterated. Grimm lurked about them, but for now they passed unnoticed. A light would change that. The storm hid them as much as the monsters. Still, Rhon shone faintly in the darkness; a caution against their foes. Every so often Gwen would stop and listen, and after a moment gesture for Des to follow her slightly off course. But these were the only interruptions in their climb. Time seemed as frozen as the land, impossible to gauge within the infinite gloom. They could have been walking a few minutes, or a few hours. Neither struck up conversation; it could give them away as easily as a light. But the burning in Des’ muscles and lungs spoke of the time they had spent climbing, taking their toll in the cold, thin air. She slowed, bit by bit, as they climbed. After a time Gwen slowed to a stop, her cloak and hair coated in snow. Even in the darkness she was looking Des over, green eyes glimmering as though with a light of their own. She nodded to herself. [color=0000ff]“We can’t stop.”[/color] She said softly, breaking the oppressive silence. [color=0000ff]“It isn’t safe to rest here.”[/color] [color=00008b]“I know,”[/color] Her ward responded, trying to keep the breathlessness out of her voice. [color=00008b]“I’m fine.”[/color] The Huntress shook her head and crouched down, turning her back to her protege and patting a shoulder. [color=0000ff]“Get on.”[/color] Her tone brooked no argument, but Des tried anyway. She started to protest, but didn’t get through the first word before Gwen shook her head again. [color=0000ff]“No, dear.”[/color] She said warmly, patting her shoulder again.[color=0000ff] “Even reindeers get tired. I can carry you a while.”[/color] So, with a little grumbling, the mage in training climbed up on her back in between the pack and the sack, wrapped her legs about the older woman’s waist and her arms about her shoulders. Gwen pushed with her legs, returning to her full height and resuming the climb. If the additional weight burdened her at all she didn’t show it, instead moving faster than before. She settled into an easy rhythm, finding sure footing in the dark despite no way to see her path. It was warmer, too. Despite her best efforts the warmth, the steady movement and even sound of her guardian’s breathing was enough to make her drowsy. The last sensation the purple-haired girl could consciously note was a harness made from cord in Gwen’s cloak pocket tied around her torso, securing her to the woman’s back even when she fell asleep. So despite a sleepy protest, sleep she did; drifting off to a dreamless rest. It wasn’t until she spoke again that Des awoke. [color=0000ff]“Des,”[/color] The Huntress said softly, in a tone of voice that she had already heard once today. She was carefully undoing the noted cord harness with one hand, while the other gripped Rhon’s haft tightly. [color=0000ff]“I need you to wake up, dear.”[/color] [color=00008b]“Mm? What is it, Miss Gwen?”[/color] [color=0000ff]“You need to walk. And I might need you to take our cargo, too.”[/color] Her ward couldn’t quite understand, not in her slowly waking state, but Gwen was serious. So she nodded and dropped back to her feet, shaking off the drowsiness and following closely. It was way too bright… But, she realized, it shouldn’t be. They had been avoiding a light. It wasn’t until a second later that it registered where the light was coming from, from Rhon’s gleaming form. The golden glow bathed their immediate surroundings in warm light, casting Gwen’s eyes in an almost alien gleam of emerald as though the light came from [i]within[/i] rather than without. She was ready for a fight, Des knew, in a way that she had not yet seen. They continued in silence for a few long, tense minutes. Try as she might, Des couldn’t help but feel like she was holding her breath. Even the wind seemed quieter, as though the world outside their gleaming few feet of light was waiting with them for what was about to happen. Then Gwen stopped. [color=0000ff]“The village is half a mile that way.” [/color]She pointed with her lance’s tip, igniting it further to illuminate the start of her path. Des felt, through her gloves, the sack pressed into her hands. It was heavy, but she could move with it for a while. She would have to.[color=0000ff] “We’re in a clearing. Nothing to trip on. If you get turned around, head southeast and you will see the lights before long. Mind your step, but move quickly.”[/color] [color=00008b]“Aren’t you coming?”[/color] Des started to ask, but the question died on her lips when she looked at the Huntress’ expression. Cast in sharp relief by Rhon’s light, she seemed like a different person. There was no humor in her gaze, even if the kindness remained in her eyes. The warmth had fled. [color=0000ff]“Yes. But after. Take the cargo, Desdemona Taylor, and head for the village. Do not stop. Do not look back. Now.”[/color] She shoved Des’ back gently, forcing her to take a step forward. The message received, the girl started in the direction she was instructed. Silence reigned again, pressing down on Des’ shoulders like a great weight. The light behind her did not move; her guardian was rooted to the spot, she knew even without looking. The wind howled again, carrying like the screams of the damned and laden with the creaking and cracking of a peace about to break. [color=00008b][i]Cracking?[/i][/color] The thought no sooner occurred to her than the sound of shattering ice and breaking stone, as through the mountain itself had been cracked in two. The sound rumbled and intensified, taking on a crashing bass line muffled by the blizzard. With every passing second it grew louder. And louder, as though trying to drown out Mother Nature herself. But it was met with a crack like thunder, and a flash like lightning. But the light did not fade like it, no it remained and bathed the whole clearing in an angelic glow that cast the world into yellowed shades of white and black. It was this light that revealed the source, a towering monstrosity hewn of ice and stone. Its bones ripped from the mountainside with violence, jagged and harsh coated in a flesh of blackened ice. Roots protruded from its form, here and there, speaking of fallen trees consumed by its enormity. Its head was masked in gloom, even in the face of such light, but eyes like burning coals peered through the gloom behind a helm of granite. Its immense right hand was like a spear, an ancient pine tree that had been claimed by this abomination. Its branches and needles sheared away until all that remained was a length of deadly wood. Its right was a claw of quartz and stone like the icy hand of Death, excavated from the deep hole in the mountain that this [i]thing[/i] must have called home. It bellowed, a deep, crackling sound like the voice of the mountain, but was met with a yell clear as a bell. [color=0000ff]“Monster! Fiend of the mountain, Jötunn who terrorizes the inhabitants of this realm, I name thee!”[/color] The yell was punctuated with another crack, as though the land itself beneath the weight of her proclamation. Despite its cacophony the Grimm could not drown it out, nor muffled her words. [color=0000ff]“In naming thee I [i]challenge[/i] thee!” “Thou art [i][b]Borea Gigas[/b][/i], frozen spectre! Thou art a monster from Hell’s blackest depths, and it is to those depths that you will return.”[/color] The rumbling was joined by a series of howls, a snarling discordance of unholy sound. Des ran, or at least as close to it as she could in the snow, as she had been bidden. She wanted to help, but she had been told to keep moving. Put as much distance between her and the fighting as possible, reach the village. But she couldn’t resist looking back over her shoulder. Gwen caught a charging Beowolf on her lance without breaking her stride, as she stalked towards the towering Geist. Her feet moved easily, as though there were no snow in her way. The Grimm never knew what happened, the silvery point catching it in the chest when it lunged. The golden-haired warrior spun away from the Gigas’ left hand gracefully, not unlike a dancer, and flung the dissolving Grimm off of her weapon in the same motion. And she continued her advance. [color=0000ff]“I challenge thee, and your unholy horde! I challenge thee as Gwendolyn Lloyd, Huntress of Beacon!”[/color] Every word was punctuated by a step, every sentence by a blow. She danced out of the Geist’s way as easily as breathing, meeting every Beowolf with lance or fist. When the Geist struck, she struck in turn; fracturing its spear a little more every time. [color=0000ff]“I challenge thee as the Wandering Knight, Huntress Errant, and a Fang of Redwood! I challenge thee as the Sword of Vale!”[/color] Her voice thundered, and Rhom crackled and sparked with sudden energy. Her Aura. Gwendolyn’s soul illuminated the light, bright enough to force Des to look away and hot enough to melt snow where she went. She drew back and the lance [i]soared[/i], splitting the air and wreathed in spiraling steam. It struck home in the Geist’s shoulder, sending up a cloud of steam from melting ice and cracking stone while the monster roared in fury. Bereft of her Aura, the weapon cooled still lodged in her foe’s form. The light died, slowly, and by its glimmer Des watched as her guardian backhanded a Beowolf contemptuously with an armored gauntlet. She forced herself to look away, to move even [i]faster[/i]. The village’s lights were in the distant, even if very faintly, and she knew Gwen was holding them off for her sake. She was outnumbered, and the longer Des delayed the longer she would have to do it. She reached the crest of the hill beyond the clearing, and as she crossed it she allowed herself one last glance back. Just as the the glow of Gwendolyn’s soul dimmed and died, it was replaced. [color=0000ff]“I challenge thee in the halls of my fathers! I will not [i]give thee an inch[/i], not upon my life!”[/color] In the distance Gwendolyn was bathed in a light richer than before, beset on all sides by shadows that defied its efforts to light them, without a trace of fear. And as Des began her descent towards safety, across the clearing, she saw her guardian’s eyes [i]blaze[/i] in the light and her hand close upon the hilt of a sword. [color=0000ff][i][b]”And by Camlann’s Gauntlet, I will not permit thee to flee either!”[/b][/i][/color] And silence reigned. The blizzard descended once more upon the world, and Desdemona was not pursued. Her breath came ragged and rough, as she tried to keep up the pace that would carry her to safety. The packs were heavy upon her back, and heavier by the second, but the lights were drawing nearer. It wasn’t just her own safety, as soon as she got there she could send help. Gwen hadn’t caught up with her. Her guardian could handle anything, she was sure, but… The worry made her heart beat faster and harder, even if the exertion hadn’t already. She cursed herself for running, she should have stayed and helped. Even if Gwen had told her not to, she couldn’t have left the Huntress alone in that fight. Miss Julia wouldn’t have, Mister Daniel wouldn’t have, Benjamin wouldn’t have. She stopped, debating within herself. The village wasn’t far, but would they be fast enough? Should she turn around to help? How long had it taken her to get that far? Reluctantly she resumed her pace, concluding that she’d get more of a lecture for turning back than for doing her job. Despite her best efforts she started to slow, too; the sack was [i]heavy[/i], and she had been running through snow almost to her waist. Next time, she told herself, they would be investing in snowshoes. If there was a- No, Gwen could handle herself. Right? She glanced back over her shoulder, and her heart almost stopped at the dark shape just a few paces behind her. Des stumbled, almost fell, and whirled upon her foe. She needed a second to conjure up a defense, so she swung the sack [i]hard[/i] to try and buy some spa- [color=0000ff]“[i]Reindeer[/i], relax,”[/color] weaving out of the way with with sounded like mirth before stepped in to catch her arm so she couldn’t swing again. [color=0000ff]“Des, relax. It’s just me.”[/color] [color=00008b]“Gwen?”[/color] [color=0000ff]“Mhm. I told you I’d catch up.”[/color] No longer in danger of being thwacked with a heavy sack of gifts, Gwen let go of her ward’s wrist and ruffled her hair. [color=0000ff]“You look frozen. Come on, you’re almost there. I gotcha.”[/color] The younger girl was scooped up, sack and all, before she could find her voice again. In closer quarters she could identify the royal blue of the blonde’s cloak with ease, and see the glowing green amusement under her Santa hat. Her lance shone silver, disassembled and secured to her back, and there wasn’t a scratch on the older woman. Despite, once again, carrying all of the weight and having caught up through the snow after somehow driving off their pursuers… She was barely breathing hard. [color=00008b]”G-Gwen? How did you- Where’d your sword go?”[/color] The blonde cocked her head, giving a bemused smile. [color=0000ff]“Des, what sword? Didn’t I tell you not to look back?”[/color] [color=00008b]“No! I mean, yes, but-”[/color] [color=0000ff]“We have bigger worries, Desdemona. Hang on.”[/color] Gwen yanked on a rope at the wooden gate they approached, ringing a heavy bell up towards the top of the barricade. She yelled up her name, too, when prompted and the gate swung open a second later. The guards nodded their greeting, but otherwise said little. It wasn’t until they reached the elderly gentleman waiting just inside the guardhouse that she said anything else, simply announcing that she’d brought what she said she would and beginning to pull the gifts out of the sack. Given the red pants and long white beard, Des figured the man was probably serving as the village Santa. He was thanking Gwen profusely, but she just laughed a little, told him he was welcome, and kept setting the gifts on the table. Des said nothing, not until she was done and they had been directed to where lodgings had been set aside overnight. Then, when the sack was handed back to her and they stepped outside again, she piped up. [color=00008b]“Wait, you forgot to give him a couple. I already mailed the one to Beacon...”[/color] She rummaged in the sack, pulling out the pair of boxes left behind. [color=00008b]“Mom?”[/color] [color=0000ff]“No I didn’t.”[/color] She said simply, mischievous light glittering behind snowy blonde hair. [color=0000ff]“I told you, don’t take it up with me, take it up with Santa.”[/color] Des spluttered. Her guardian simply laughed, a warm sound from her very core, and tugged her into a hug. [color=0000ff]“Merry Christmas, reindeer.”[/color] [/hider] [hider=A Gift for Plank (Cairo, Did You Know?)]From: Krayzikk To: [@Plank Sinatra] Type of Work: Short Story Description: A mercenary's struggles Christmas shopping. [hr] Picking a gift for someone who has more money than you, not a whole lot of interests, and gets frowny whenever you try and broach the subject is [i]hard.[/i] Seriously. Imagine you know of two, maybe three things that someone likes. They won’t tell you what they want for Christmas. (Actually they just start scowling and ‘bah humbugging’ [an actual quote, not metaphorical] whenever you ask.) And anything you can think of that they’d [i]definitely[/i] like is outside your price range, since you’re still trying to find an apartment that has working power, cable, [i]and[/i] all four walls, and her best friends absolutely refuse to tell you anything helpful. One won’t put on pants, either, which is… Not the point. Now you begin to understand Kat Staten’s problem. No list, no plan, no backup, which meant she would’ve been much, much happier having to fight a whole fuckton of Grimm. Credit to Miss Julia, she did try to help. It just… Really wasn’t very helpful. Somewhere along the lines she just stopped being able to follow. Which left her back at square one. The mercenary let a long breath out through her teeth, sitting in the center of Vacuo’s least [s]closest to[/s] most reputable shopping district. It was too damn hot for Christmas, which really wasn’t helping matters. She was roasting her ass off. Which, actually, had lead to one of her first thoughts; maybe Cairo would like some warm weather clothes? No dice. A furtive check of the closet confirmed she had plenty already. Something for work? Nope, she had plenty of supplies and her proficiency in combat was years ahead of anything Kat could come up with. She wouldn’t be finding any ideas there. This really shouldn’t have been hard. The empty bag at her feet had held gifts for her friends back home, and for her grandfather. He’d been to Vacuo, way back when. Not in peacetime, but he’d liked the Kingdom well enough. Used to tell stories, about the battles [i]and[/i] the rec time. She wouldn’t ever forget them. [i]Yeah, you saw some of ‘em…[/i] Anyway, she’d sent some of his favorite local recipes back out of a little book in a touristy gift shop. A postcard from somewhere she knew he’d had a battle, as a little joke, along a genuine antique from the Great War. The seller didn’t really know what he had, the unit insignia was pretty obscure, but she’d know it anywhere. It was on the shield strapped to her back. Not the most honest thing to do, but haggling on his ignorance was the only way she could afford it. And, of course, her letter. Good news, for once. Her job was going well, she was saving money, met some really nice people… Not [i]too[/i] much detail, there, but the old man was a Staten too. If anyone was gonna read between the lines it’d be the man that raised her. She’d heard enough stories to know he’d met some ‘real nice girls’ out in Vacuo, too. Old bastard. She grinned a little to herself, thinking about it. But that was the easy part. Hell, she’d even managed to find a gift for Mr. Max and Mr. Kol. Probably weren’t expecting to get one, but… It was Christmas. Even in this god foresaken wasteland of a Kingdom where they had never even heard of snow, it was still Christmas. Everyone deserves something on Christmas. It wasn’t anything big. Even setting aside everything she could spare for the past few months her budget was pretty small. Workable. But small. Mr. Max got a collection of the movies his nickname came from (don’t ask, he won’t stop talking about it). Mr. Kol got a little bobblehead of a prominent resistance fighter back in Mistral during the Great War. Everyone would hate her for giving that autist something to fiddle with. But he’d love it. But she couldn’t figure out what to get Cairo. She had no idea. She didn’t need clothes. She didn’t really do fight memorabilia, even though she shelled out to be able to watch them when they were on. She didn’t [i]need[/i] anything that she couldn’t buy herself. And she refused to provide a list! Her stocking was easy, Kit Kats for candy, a dark chocolate bar as a joke, and some cheesy little fridge magnets of compliments. That was the easy part. But what about a [i]gift?[/i] She was out of ideas. No, no, she could figure something out… It wasn’t that desparate… It was the 23rd. She had no time. … … Kat Staten inhaled deeply. Exhaled. And again. And then she pulled out her Scroll, scrolled (heh) through her contacts, and tapped once. … “Highwind.” The voice on the other end answered, after only one ring. “Who’s this?” “Highwind. This is…” Swallow that pride, Kat. Focus. It’s necessary. “Kat Staten. I need a favor.” “[i]Really[/i]. What’s up?” “It’s almost Christmas. I need to get a gift for Cairo, and she won’t give me any ideas. None of her friends are helping. I’m running out of time, so if you could try and find out from…” [i]Say the name. Say the name, don’t spit it, say it.[/i] “... Troy. I’d owe you.” “Got it.” “What?” “Got it.” Her rival on the other end said simply, probably with a shrug. “I don’t know what to get the boss, either. I’ll try and find out. If you think of anything…” “Yeah. If I can find out something I’ll tell you. … Thanks.” “Don’t mention it.” “It’s my ass if I do. I won’t.” Neither one said anything else, so they hung up at almost the same time. Almost. Just because they were cooperating for the moment didn’t mean either wanted to let the other hang up first. But still, he’d been willing to help. Maybe she [i]could[/i] think of something to help him out. She spent the next hour wandering the district from place to place, waiting to hear back and thinking over the very, very little that she’d heard from Cai about the man that [i]wasn’t[/i] negative. There wasn’t a lot, but wandering around… Something did click. Not a guarantee. But an educated guess. She sent it along in a quick text, minimum words involved. On that point, though, Jonas had her beat. He sent only one. [i]>Sambuca[/i]. It clicked as soon as she’d read it. It was Cairo’s drink of choice, she’d said as much when she shared it, but it was a pain to get. It was Mistralian. People in Vacuo had long memories, and no one really liked stocking much for Mistralian goods. Let alone the genuine, imported stuff. She only knew about one place to get it, way out towards the east. A few hours by buggy, longer on foot. And you had to go through a whole lot of seedy turf. East was Solomon, east was lawless the further you went. You didn’t go out there alone if you weren’t from Vacuo. It would be really, really, unspeakably stupid to make a run for a store three or four hours away, shortly before dark, alone, and through a region where there was a good chance someone’d want you dead. Naturally that made it the perfect idea. But it had to be that night. She wouldn’t have time tomorrow, not on Christmas Eve, and Cairo’d get suspicious if she asked to borrow a buggy. Kat needed to take the Spartan. So she hurried back to where she’d parked the battered, old green bike and slipped her purchases into a bag slung on the side. She had her gear, she could handle any fights she ran across… If she went now. And if the Spartan ran right the whole way. She would. She had to. The old girl could take it. And take it she did. The old bike made the trip in three hours, just a hair over, without issue. Speed limits weren’t even a suggestion out past the touristy parts of Vacuo, so she didn’t pay them any mind; just drive as fast she she could without wiping out on the battered, weather-worn road. The store closed at ten, she called ahead on the road, and it was a little past 9:50 when she arrived. Cutting it way, way too close. Especially since the owner, who hadn’t had any customers in almost an hour (little wonder, with how far out the little town was), was trying to close up shop. “Kid, I am three seconds from locking this door. You’re too late, back tomorrow, c’mon in then.” The middle aged man said, jangling the keys once for emphasis. “You and everyone else lookin’ to stock up before Christmas.” “I can’t come back tomorrow, I could barely make it out [i]today[/i].” Kat insisted, pointing on the time on her Scroll. “Look, it’s 9:56. Still four minutes to closing.” “Kid, I said forget it.” “[i]Please[/i],” The blonde managed, trying not to growl in frustration. That wasn’t going to get here anywhere. Deep breaths. “Sir, please. It’s a Christmas gift, you’re the only one I can find that sells it. I’ll buy whatever I can fit on my bike, and I’ll probably be back. Got a girl friend that loves the stuff, but hates taking the time to make the trip out. If I’m making the trip for her, could be a pretty regular sale. I’m not asking you to take a ton of time, just enough for me to grab a couple bottles of sambuca, pay you, and be on my way.” “You’re not from around here, are you?” The man considered her, a little. Still frowning, but he hadn’t locked the door. “No, sir, I’m from Vale.” “It was pretty stupid coming out here alone.” “Yeah,” Kat agreed, shrugging a little sheepishly. “Sambuca’s Mistralian. This girl of yours, she Mistralian?” “No, sir, Cai’s Vacuuan.” “Alright, look.” The man mulled it over a second, sighed, and grumbled a little to himself. Then he opened the door. “Two bottles’ll run you about sixty lien, bump it up to sixty five as a tip, run in, grab two bottles, and get going. Sound fair?” “Absolutely,” She agreed readily, rummaging around in her wallet. She handed the man the notes, who grumbled but seemed to smile a little at her enthusiasm, and rushed in to grab her spoils. He locked up the second she was back out the door, only grunted when thanked, and went to wander off. For her part, Kat wrapped the bottles in her jacket before she stowed them. It was a rough ride back, and she didn’t want them to break. She was freezing in a tank top, now that night had fallen. Vacuo was fucking bipolar that way. But she had her loot. She swung a leg over the Spartan and started back, traveling quickly and peacefully for about an hour until she was about five miles south of old Solomon. When she hit a makeshift roadblock of a battered buggy or two. And what looked like a White Fang insignia. Kat groaned. [center]***[/center] “What happened to you, Kit Kat?” There [i]was[/i] a note of concern in there, which Kat didn’t think was [i]entirely[/i] necessary. She didn’t look [i]that[/i] bad. Though she had to admit, as she stood in the doorway to Cairo’s apartment, that she did look a little worse for wear. Two rides through a desert, no sleep, and a brawl with a pretty angry couple of White Fang supporters’ll do that. She won. Won pretty easily. But it took up some time. Especially since she had to dump ‘em somewhere they wouldn’t come looking for her again, her top got torn (Don’t ask.), and it added a couple hours to her trip. Sure, she could have left them at the roadside… But that seemed cruel. Since she’d be leaving them for Grimm. “Long night.” She said cheerfully, and with a quick squeeze of her boss’ shoulder she slipped past into the apartment holding her wrapped bag. “I don’t care if you don’t like Christmas, Cai, I got you a gift and after the trouble it was you’re gonna like it cutie. It’s a long story.” [/hider] [hider=A Gift for BASL (The Great Christmas Tree Escape)]From: [@Kaithas] To: [@Plank Sinatra][@Krayzikk][@NarayanK] [center][i]The Great Christmas Tree Escape[/i][/center] There was a lot Benjamin Lloyd was willing to do for his team. Take on Manticores, intercede with parents, offer emotional support in times of need--all of these duties were part of Ben’s job description, roles he took on more or less gladly to keep the team functioning. Standing watch in the cold for one of the most harebrained, unnecessary schemes he remembered BASL’s stripper-in-chief ever coming up with was not, however, something he expected. [color=6ecff6]“Amy, I expect this from Lauren,”[/color] he said, into the reindeer themed walkie-talkie Amy had specifically bought for this purpose, tightening the glove on his other hand and sticking it under his armpit, shivering in the chill wind. [color=6ecff6]“It’s cold, we’re going to get in trouble, and the name of the operation doesn’t make any damn sense, we’re not trying to escape anything--”[/color] [color=ed145b]“The Great Christmas Tree Liberation just didn’t have the same ring to it, Agent Rudolph,”[/color] a crackling but familiar voice came through the other side, its owner likely on the other side of the main Beacon ballroom, clambering up the side of the building using her antigravity suit. “Neither did “Repossession”. Besides--” There was a huff as she deactivated the Dust, pulling her suddenly not-weightless self up onto the roof. [color=ed145b]“I’m not letting someone who doesn’t even use their allies’ proper ####ing codenames offer any ####ing mission criticism.”[/color] Amy thumped over to a vent, reactivating the Dust at a low level to lighten her footsteps as she approached the grating. She popped it off easily, opening up her comm-channel again. “Agent Santa is entering the Chimney. I repeat, Agent Santa is entering the Chimney.” [color=f7976a]“...” [/color] Sangue was verbose as ever. Amy slipped into the vent, the crimson hat and its white pom pom vanishing quickly behind her. Navigating ducts was something she’d done a time or two before--admittedly when she was much smaller and not wearing armor, but the buildings in question were much smaller too. It only took a few minutes of wriggling and maneuvering to get to the opening she wanted to. Her eyes could see the prize through the grate. Well, one of them. [color=a187be]“Don’t give Cap such a hard time, Am,”[/color] Lauren chimed in. [color=a187be]“It’s not his fault he was born rich instead of cool.”[/color] [color=6ecff6]“What--Lauren, I wasn’t--”[/color] [color=a187be]“That’s Agent Kwanzaa to you!”[/color] Amy attached the Fury’s hook to the metal screen, then popped it out--quickly pulling it back into the ductwork and setting it to the side, before turning the Dust back on to make her levitate, pushing herself out of the opening, reclosing it, and gently floating toward the floor, tapping in to the comms once more. [color=ed145b]“Get ready, all of you. It’s almost time.”[/color] A nearly instant jet burst and she was floating in place, right next to one of the smaller trees around the ballroom. The largest was prohibitively large and difficult to move, and they wouldn’t be able to fit it in the dorm anyway. So the main tree was off limits, but the others… Amy spooled out some of the Fury’s chain, looping it around the tree’s trunk a few times, through the stand, and attaching it on the other side. It was a pleasant surprise to Amy that Beacon bought at least a few live trees amongst the fake ones. That had sprung this plan to mind, no matter how insane her teammates thought it was. Christmas had always been important to her, and she’d been disappointed when she found out she couldn’t get a real, live tree out here with anything approaching practicality. No matter how bad things at the orphanage got, they always had a live tree. Always. Then she discovered these existed. [color=ed145b]“Agent Rudolph, is the sleigh ready?”[/color] [color=6ecff6]“..Yes.”[/color] Amy was drifting over to one of the huge windows, unlatching one of the panes close to the bottom and opening it, the cold air beginning to flow in. This… was the hard part. The windows latched automatically when they were closed, so that would take care of itself. Getting the tree out was difficult. She flew to the very top of the room, tightening the chain until the tree was off the ground, the engines of her Crimson Angel armor starting to ignite to keep it afloat--then her Semblance went up to max, time slowing as she burst toward the window, the tree following behind her, chain swinging toward the pane--then she slammed on the brakes, in effect, stopping as her arbolean companion launched forward, the cable wrapping, hooking it out through the window. She let it pull her after it, following through on the tree’s trajectory and snagging the window as she went, slamming it shut behind her. Her armor accelerated upward quickly, arresting the tree’s progress on the downswing, letting it gently into a waiting sled. What? Some things were named properly. Christmas mischief managed, she catapulted herself onto the back of the waiting sled and shouted [color=ed145b]“On Donner, on Dasher--oh, #### it. Let’s go, Rudolph!”[/color] Ben sighed, channeling his Aura to strength and pulling the sled starting it down the hill. It started slow, then accelerated as Amaranth used her suit’s engines to accelerate it. [color=6ecff6]“Amy.”[/color] Ben said. It kept speeding up. [color=6ecff6]“Amy!”[/color] he repeated with more urgency. The acceleration continued unabated. [color=ed145b]“Kwanzaa, now! Rudolph, drop the shield!”[/color] Amy shouted into the walkie talkie, time slowing for her once again. Shocked slightly, Ben dropped Joyous Guard, the massive shield returning to its original weight-- Lauren opened the window, the manic excitement of her team’s hawk amping her up, strengthening her as she got ready to catch-- Amy grabbed the tree, dialed her armor up to max, and held on for dear life-- And the sleigh flipped from the massive lump of metal, launching both the tree and the Huntress toward the balcony window in an explosion of tinsel, Amy using her maneuvering jets to guide it into the window and the waiting arms of Agent Kwanzaa. Amy landed, then there was a long pause and she groaned. [color=ed145b]“Heist! I should have called it the Great Christmas Tree Heist!”[/color] There was a long pause, then Ben smacked his hand into his face and rubbed his forehead on the ground outside, the new snow covering the tracks of their mad dash from the ballroom. He hid the sled and threw the walkie talkie away, trudging up to the dorm afterward, coming in out of the cold--to be greeted by the three women of BASL, who had already finished fixing the decorations on the tree and added their own. [color=f7976a]“Merry… Christmas…”[/color] Sangue said, quietly. And it was.[/hider]