DREAMING OF A WHITE CHRISTMAS | PRESENTS

[ORPHEUS]

[align=center][div style="max-width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 1.4;letter-spacing:.1px"]/ pretend this was posted yesterday lmao i was too busy to finish it

Christmas was a time of joy, and a speck of warmth that Orpheus had been missing. His first experience with winter had been a miserable one, the cold wind slicing through his fur and straight into his skin, but he had only suffered through a few frost-bitten nights before ending up sleeping between broad shoulders, his body tucked into a worn hood. At the time, he had never thought that his life would end up in that same range of miserable ever again. But one year later and he's curled up missing what he used to have. Maybe being here was going to be good for him, even if it wasn't for the reasons he had originally expected. He'd had a chance to be festive for someone other than his lonely self. Wrapping presents, searching for things to give. Research was more fun than he had expected, however creepy that sounded. It meant that he could get to know people in a quiet kind of way, no closeness needed. Even if he wanted to curl up with someone and laugh about the holidays, this was a good start.

Though the lion himself is nowhere to be found, there are stockings leaning against the door to every room, carefully labeled with the names of their intended owner. They shared similar qualities throughout — sweets and other little items, puzzles and games, and everyone got a journal — but the top of each was unique. Orpheus hadn't been here long enough to know everyone perfectly, just a dozen small facts. It was enough for the moment. All he wanted was for people to smile a little.

[ you can ask what orpheus would have gotten for your character or you can make some stuff up yourself! his gifts would mostly be stuff that he's seen your characters do or enjoy, like hot chocolate mix for keyne and movies for clarence. ambroise got a cactus though, there's no escaping that. ]

[VALE]

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Vale understands the appeal of presents, but the Ascendants’ obsession with Christmas started wearing thin a week ago. The snow melts between her toes and all the eggnog makes everyone too loud with their drunk asses braying up a storm. Even as an extrovert, the jaguar tires of pointless social situations – and all of these fake-looking smiles wear on her nerves. She cares about Clarence, but everyone else could drown in an inch-thick puddle. She knows their smiles are fake, after all. They may pretend with all their outward niceties, but she saw how filthy humans stooped too when they thought they held the upper hand. Animals, even talking ones, could hardly be better.

Spotting the stocking leaning against her door, the jaguar’s hazel eyes narrow cautiously. A prank? She doubts she won any friends here. She just joined, yet… someone bothered to place a gift against her door. Yet her first impulse is to trash it, throw it out before she can even look at the contents – even if she appreciates the sentiment, a gift leaning against her door reminds her of him. That assaholic bitch, how dare he…! If only she dragged him to this world, she’d beat the shit out of him again and again and again.

Lashing her tail, the melanistic feline cautiously sniffs the gift. But there is no trace of his smell. And she recognizes who dropped it off, too – Oprheus, one of the friendlier (and cuter) members of the Ascendants. She wonders, hesitantly, whether this means the lion might turn out like him, unable to take no for a damn answer and bother her over and over and over again.

But she breathes, taking her mind out of the past. Glancing down the hallway, she sees the stockings leaning against other doors; relieved, she sighs and picks up the gift. If Orpheus gave everyone a gift – especially considering the traditions of this ‘Christmas’ – Vale supposed he meant no harm. Fucking hell, why did her heartrate climb so much? She was scared of a fucking gift, how the fuck did that make any lick of sense?

Slipping into her room, she lets the door slam – she’s already on the bed when the thwack comes. But the jaguar winces anyway, before curling into a ball and focusing on the stocking. Her paws tremble when she opens it, careful to work with the damn stiff appendages. The little gifts tumble out, and the jaguar blinks at them. Dark chocolates, paint brushes, and acrylic paints – it takes her a moment to snap out of the funk and smile. She wonders if Orpheus read what she wanted for the Secret Santa, but supposes it doesn’t really matter.

He never gave her gifts she actually wanted. He only gave her the gifts he thought she wanted – trying to make her the damn perfect bride she never wished to become. Vale snorts, as she carefully packs the items away in her room, that he really had been a fucking ass. And she makes a mental note to thank Orpheus for the gifts later; she doubts the sunset lion would ever know how much his gifts meant to her… but she doesn't want anyone to know that fucking emotional crap about her, anyway.

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[clarence a.]

Clarence absolutely adored opening presents. He wasn't sure if it was just the childish desire to rip wrapping paper or something out of a bag, but he loved it. He loved getting thoughtful gifts from the people he cared about and he also loved giving them. However, despite it being the Christmas season, he was still surprised when he found a stocking outside his door full of sweets and with a small package on the top addressed to him. He quickly grabbed the package and brought it into his room, shutting the door behind him so he could look at what'd been given to him. The first thing he noticed, before even opening it, was that Orpheus had sent it. While it'd taken him some time to get used to noticing who someone was by their scent or where something had come from just by smell alone, now that he'd been here about a month, he recognized most of his clanmates immediately and could usually figure out what group someone hailed from when they arrived at the border. It was a little strange but he had to admit it was nice to have such a simple way of identifying key information, especially in a world where it was more than possible for an enemy to walk right up to a border with no indication of where they were from otherwise.

In any case, knowing it was from a safe source, the man quickly tore open the packaging and a light smile crossed his maw as he saw several of the little disks that went into the glowy box he found some time ago. All of them claimed to be musicals as well, which only made his smile even wider. He'd been planning on finishing up a lovely book by Mary Shelley, but perhaps he'd have to dip into these instead. That accompanied with the sweets provided in the stocking seemed to imply he'd have a wonderful day of staying in and catching up on more of the media he'd missed since his death (which was quite a lot given it'd been over 200 years). Maybe there was a musical about Frankenstein. That seemed ridiculous but these people seemed to make musicals about everything, and Clarence wasn't going to complain about it. He'd also need to put something together to thank Orpheus, obviously, but maybe that could wait until after he stuck one of the little disks into his glowy box. The one titled "Mamma Mia." That seemed like it'd be fun. He wasn't a huge fan of islands but if there was music, he was sure he would come around to it. 

LISTEN UP; HEAR THE PATRIOTS SHOUT

BLOOD LUST IN A HOLY WAR

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[AMBROISE]

[align=center][div style="max-width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 1.4;letter-spacing:.1px"]He'd thought he'd made it clear he hated Christmas, but apparently, he hadn't made it clear enough, not for someone with a skull as thick as Orpheus'. He was some kind of weed that always found a way of popping back up in even the harshest of conditions.

Maybe he'd have to set fire to the whole damn yard.

None of that was immediately on his mind at the moment; he was only exiting his room, fully prepared to face the decorations, and entirely unprepared for the needle-prick shocks of pain in his left paw. "Feet pue tan- bibitte- fucking merde." The swears rolled out steadily and with increasing volume between each yank with his teeth, pulling out the cactus needles with growing vehemence, after which he sent the pot flying into the opposite wall with a loud crash. He didn't need to look at anything else to know which shit had left this at his room, and his exhale was more of a growl. "Orpheus! I know you can hear me, you little- beck moi tchew, couillon!" He slammed the door viciously, before opening it, entering the corridor, and slamming it again before stalking down the hallway. Ambroise could just see that innocently smug grin, and he had never wanted so much to strangle someone over ridiculous gifts.

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