[align=center][div style="max-width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 1.4;letter-spacing:.1px"]"You're not from around here, are you?" Although the question is a somewhat serious one, there's a bright, friendly sparkle in the lion's eyes. Everyone had to be explained the holiday at least once, and who's he to fault someone for joining in a little bit late? Perhaps Christmas wasn't as widespread as he thought, but — well, again, it's not like he could judge that. Orpheus hasn't been all around the world, and he doesn't think he ever will be. Too much to see, too little time. But the idea is appealing nonetheless, and if he needs to, he would be perfectly content to learn from their stories. Clarence certainly seemed to have a long one. Maybe he would ask eventually. For now, the way he furrowed his brow was subtly amusing and possibly somewhat cute; he'll keep himself anchored in the moment. "You — do you want help?" The lion tips his head towards the sticker with a quiet smile, trying not to seem too amused.
Socks? Well, maybe that's a good place to start, then. "I dunno about Father Christmas, but Santa gives gifts to people who have earned them, and coal to people who have been bad. So if you're writing to him, maybe talk about what he should get you." For a moment, his attention drifts off to space, eyes falling down to the table. Everything that he asked for in previous years felt so distant, and what he wanted now was beyond any seasonal spirit's abilities. He feels as if he should warn people of that, that maybe Santa couldn't fix all of the world's problems no matter how nicely you wrote it all down, but he doesn't want to drag that into the cheery atmosphere. So he blinks and smiles again. "Like socks, if you want. That's a good place to start. Even if you don't want anything, maybe you can tell him what you're thinking. I think he's a pretty good listener."
While his eyes had drifted to Atticus then, smile growing even as he tried to fight it down. A bunch of Grumpy Guses trying to write letters for the sake of the holiday spirit was kind of hilarious. But Keyne — that's the sort of thing he's really here for. The lion's entire body softens at the child's approach, blinking gently when confronted with that rather damning question. Saying no felt cruel and saying yes felt dishonest, but he would rather swallow a lie than ruin someone's Christmas. So as Keyne potentially busies himself with the very stuck sticker, he glances to Atticus with a small "please help" panic and then clears his expression. "Unfortunately, kid, I've never been able to meet him myself. When I was your age, my dad —" he swallows hard, smile almost pained "— my dad didn't really like strangers, and you know how Santa brings presents at night? I think my dad would have gotten mad at him." The last part drops to a conspiratorial whisper, eyes crinkling with a much easier warmth.
"Maybe we can stay up this Christmas and try to see him together, yeah?"
Socks? Well, maybe that's a good place to start, then. "I dunno about Father Christmas, but Santa gives gifts to people who have earned them, and coal to people who have been bad. So if you're writing to him, maybe talk about what he should get you." For a moment, his attention drifts off to space, eyes falling down to the table. Everything that he asked for in previous years felt so distant, and what he wanted now was beyond any seasonal spirit's abilities. He feels as if he should warn people of that, that maybe Santa couldn't fix all of the world's problems no matter how nicely you wrote it all down, but he doesn't want to drag that into the cheery atmosphere. So he blinks and smiles again. "Like socks, if you want. That's a good place to start. Even if you don't want anything, maybe you can tell him what you're thinking. I think he's a pretty good listener."
While his eyes had drifted to Atticus then, smile growing even as he tried to fight it down. A bunch of Grumpy Guses trying to write letters for the sake of the holiday spirit was kind of hilarious. But Keyne — that's the sort of thing he's really here for. The lion's entire body softens at the child's approach, blinking gently when confronted with that rather damning question. Saying no felt cruel and saying yes felt dishonest, but he would rather swallow a lie than ruin someone's Christmas. So as Keyne potentially busies himself with the very stuck sticker, he glances to Atticus with a small "please help" panic and then clears his expression. "Unfortunately, kid, I've never been able to meet him myself. When I was your age, my dad —" he swallows hard, smile almost pained "— my dad didn't really like strangers, and you know how Santa brings presents at night? I think my dad would have gotten mad at him." The last part drops to a conspiratorial whisper, eyes crinkling with a much easier warmth.
"Maybe we can stay up this Christmas and try to see him together, yeah?"
[align=center][img width=300]https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/intermediary/f/c43c2c6d-b9e5-4952-a3d7-4db10fd90fe6/dcwzlwz-724bba54-d4ca-433b-ad25-a4a33df0b505.png/v1/fill/w_1175,h_680,strp/ded_lion_by_bluiestar_dcwzlwz-pre.png[/img]
I HAVE TROUBLES EVERY DAY BUT IT TURNS OUT FINE
[div style="font-size:8pt;line-height:1.2;font-family:arial;color:black;margin-top:-5px;margin-bottom:5px;"]｢ ❝ it turns out fine, and i fight to keep them all away ❞ | [color=black]biography – [color=black]tags ｣