tunasub | MISTLETOE IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 2025

he won game of the year are you proud of him

[ They're in Paris. Finally.

It's not for the whole holiday, just for a Christmas with the expectation to get back to Japan for the New Year and spend it with Mizuki. Mizuki was insistent she didn't need Date around for the New Year and didn't care where he went but Date was pretty certain that if they didn't visit the shrine together on the first day of the year, he'd be the one in for a world of hurt. But Christmas was an easier sell. She was going to spend it with her friends and was actually pretty encouraging (in her own Mizuki way) of Date taking Gustave somewhere as sickeningly romantic as Paris for Christmas. Probably because she liked Gustave more than she liked Date but you know what? He'll count it as a win.

They have a hotel, along the Seine with a great view of the Eiffel Tower. Once again, it cost a pretty penny for Date to get but it was worth it to see Gustave's face light up when they arrived in the city. He's expecting... complicated feelings, of course, both happy and bittersweet because while Paris is familiar, it's not his home, right? So, Date's been on the lookout to make sure he's there for Gustave if this all gets too much.

They arrived yesterday and it took a bit for Date to recover from the jetlag so they took it easy for the most part, dinner at the hotel restaurant, a walk along the river, Date dozing lightly against Gustave's shoulder as they sat on a bench and people watched. That kind of thing. But it truly is beautiful, walking along the snow covered streets, the quiet of the night, the Christmas lights decorating everything. Even Date, as jaded as he can be, can't help but feel a little taken by the atmosphere.

It's snowing still the next day, light little flurries coming down which aren't enough to derail their plans but enough to have Date bundled up with a beanie, a scarf, and scrunching the tip of his red nose as flakes drift down onto it. He's wearing a warm black coat and is following Gustave as they wander along the stalls of the Tuileries Garden Christmas Market. The music is loud and festive, the air is filled with the smell of roasted chestnuts and other mouth-watering food, even the Ferris Wheel is bright and colorful and Date is having... thoughts... about convincing Gustave to go on it with him. Though he does remember the story about the Expedition whatever number and their big wheel that crashed into a sea monster so, well, he wouldn't blame Gustave for saying no.

With the snow and the crowd, Date finds himself sneezing slightly, closing his eyes and pausing for a moment to sneeze a few times before he stops to look up and — realizes then that he's lost Gustave. Shit. The other man must have kept walking and not realized Date had stopped and Date feels a little helpless for a moment without his de facto Paris guide, considering one of them knows French and the other certainly does not. ]

Shit.

[ He moves through the crowd then, following the direction he last saw Gustave going in while he fumbles with the phone in his pocket to see if he can text Gustave. But honestly, there isn't much reason for him to panic because before he can move too far — he spots a familiar head of brown curls at a cider stall and Date breathes a sigh of relief. Until, of course, he spots a certain sprig of mistletoe hanging above Gustave's head, unnoticed by him but noticed by the stall owner. She smiles, delighted, and has a mischievous look on her face which, for Date, just won't do.

He doesn't know what she's thinking but if anyone is going to enjoy Gustave under the mistletoe, it's going to be him!

So, before he knows what he's doing, his feet are carrying him quickly back to Gustave's side and he suddenly appears, loudly, next to Gustave, surprising the stall owner and probably Gustave too. ]

Gu-kun! [ What the fuck is he saying. ] Look.

[ A little breathless, he points up to the mistletoe hanging on the lights above Gustave's head. ]

Do you know what that is?

[ Yes, it's safe to say this has been overwhelming for Gustave on multiple levels, starting from "riding in an airplane," but what is he if not skilled at rolling with the punches? Well -- maybe he's not actually very good at that, but he's better at it when nobody's dying. It's a great shock to see Paris - not because it's beautiful (though it is, naturally) but because it's agonizingly familiar down to the layouts of the streets. It's not a one-to-one match, but it's so incredibly close that the differences feel like the result of technology and the Shattering more than an actual separation in space. The parts he doesn't at least vaguely recognize are either outside of the borders of the Lumière he grew up in or adjustments made to accommodate cars and enormous new buildings. The tower is there, for goodness' sake! Standing straight up, too, which makes much more sense than being crooked, in retrospect. The language is French, just like Date had said and Gustave had called mistaken, but he understands every word. More or less.

He has no idea what it means. He can't even begin to guess. He's done a bit of research, both before and after they arrived, but there's no record of anything from his world online - it's not a matter of time. Then what? Not for the first time, he wishes Lune was here; she's the person he'd usually turn to when he ran into an unsolvable problem, and she'd probably at least have a theory. He has nothing, other than the "parallel universe" thing, but that doesn't feel like a complete answer by itself. There has to be a bigger reason they're this similar while also being so different.

It bothers him. It makes him gravely homesick, too. But - as he's become quite skilled at doing since moving in with Date - he's trying his best not to think about it, shoving it off to some dusty corner of his brain at least while they're here. This wasn't cheap, and Date is trying very hard to treat him (as always), and if he can ignore those complications, it is amazing. It's beautiful, he knows the food, the language, and there's snow, and the lights - it's amazing they can do it all without Chroma. If Date really thinks Gustave wouldn't jump on the chance to ride on one of those big Expedition wheels, he's sorely mistaken. That's what he's doing now: trying to immerse himself in it all. To be honest, it's not hard. He doesn't realize Date's drifted away - or, rather, he's vaguely aware, but he's not half as concerned about it as Date is. He also doesn't realize what he's standing under, or what it means, or why this nice lady is giving him That Look (he knows That Look but is not particularly great at handling it beyond getting flustered), and then Date shows up very pointedly again.

Is he jealous? Wait, did he just call him "Gu-kun" again? In public?? At least nobody else can understand him here. Probably. (Gustave has clued in to how schmoopy that nickname is after living in Japan long enough, especially with all of Date's sardonic friends.) He blinks, then, makes a bit of a face, his brow furrowing. ]

Um, I - it's a plant? A decoration? [ a beat. ] Did you just call me Gu-kun?

[ He just called him Gu-kun, in public, out loud, instead of jokingly in private. Yeah, he definitely did that. And that's left Date feeling flustered too, his cheeks going pink as he's called out on it and his shoulders slumping in on himself a little as he buries his hands more in his pockets and tries not to get defensive or something silly like that. But he is definitely a little flustered. ]

I — yeah.

[ Oh my goddddd, he's so embarrassed. Just let him grimace for a moment before moving on, because his eye flickers over to the lady who is now looking curiously between the two of them and then he looks back at Gustave and then up at the mistletoe. Okay. Okaaaay. ]

Anyway!

[ Said a bit too loudly. Chill out, Date. ]

Mistletoe. It's mistletoe you're standing under and there's — there's a tradition. When it comes to. Mistletoe.

[ Guy who is explaining all this oh so poorly but now he's getting shy himself over what's happening. Maybe this was a bad idea... except no, then that lady would've flirted with his man and he would've absolutely died because he wouldn't be able to tell her off in French. No, this is the best way to, uh, establish dominance. ]

[ meanwhile, Gustave remains perplexed. Jealousy is one thing - is Date jealous that this woman was, what, looking at him in a slightly flirty manner? Surely not, right? - but the immediate embarrassment into shyness combo while fixating on the aforementioned plant-slash-decoration is nothing short of confusing. He can't even properly enjoy Date actually getting embarrassed by something dumb he said for once!

Benignly puzzled, he just nods. ]

A-all right, should I be... doing something? I didn't know.

[ is he committing some kind of big faux pas by not doing The Tradition? Now he also looks somewhat nervous. ]

[ Date is realizing his beating around the bush is confusing Gustave even more and so he puts on his big boy pants and explains what, exactly, is going on. He pulls one of his hands out of his jacket so he can drag it over his face and his eye glances back up at the mistletoe before back to Gustave, cheeks pink and not because of the cold. ]

If you're caught standing under the mistletoe during the holidays, you're supposed to kiss. You and whoever you're caught with. That's the tradition.

[ Which, well, guess who he's standing with under the mistletoe and is looking shy about the whole thing. At this point, the lady is just watching them, probably wondering if they're going to kiss or if they're going to keep loitering in front of her stall. There's also a sign in the corner that probably makes more sense now, it says For every kiss, a free hot cider! ]

[ see, this is exactly the sort of thing that he might suspect Date made up as an excuse to kiss him - not because he makes things up often, but because he's always saying totally off-the-wall things that he, at least, seems to believe whole-heartedly - but that sign in front of the (no doubt beleaguered) merchant's stall backs up his claim. A few things click then. One: she probably (definitely?) was angling for a kiss with him, which makes him blush by itself, and two: Date was definitely jealous because he figured that out. Hence the blustery swooping-in. It's very sweet, really; Gustave's tickled by the notion that Date's possessive, though it absolutely lines up with the rest of his personality.

That leaves three: they're going to kiss, in public, in front of this strange lady and also whoever else is around. Which is also embarrassing. It's not that he's ashamed or anything - he's just shy about anything grander than hugging or holding hands when it comes to displays of affection. The cold weather already has his cheeks pretty red, but they definitely look a little redder as he listens to Date. ]

Oh. We're, uh - now? In front of -- [ he gestures vaguely to the lady and the market. ] -- I mean, not that I don't want to, I do, you're - I always do, this is just sudden. Um...

[ this is why he went and hid in a closet first back on AYTO. A bit sheepishly, he reaches for Date's hands, either to pull him in closer or for some comfort. Probably both.

grown ass men. ]

[ GROWN ASS MEN INDEED.

Because Date is taking Gustave's hands in his own, curling his fingers into him and stepping closer, all instinct and affection as he watches Gustave stammer through his response to that. There is relief that he believes him on this because honestly, if he was Gustave, he wouldn't believe Date even a lick about this. But he's not lying! He's trying to show him a tradition that... even Date can't be foolish about right now.

Mostly because he's still stuck on the thought of someone else trying to kiss his Gustave and he hates it. He hates it so much! No! He's the only one allowed to show Gustave this tradition! But at the very least, the lady at the stall seems to realize what's going on and even if she's a little exasperated by it, they're not the first couple who has lingered in front of her stall for a sweet kiss. Though they're probably the most mutually flustered about it. ]

It can be quick, okay? Not like — [ Cutting himself off immediately before he says something embarrassing like not like our usual kisses. Oh my god. He gives a shake of his head, face pink and snow still falling down lightly around them. It really is wonderfully idyllic right now and his eye flicks up to watch some snowflakes settle in Gustave's hair before he looks back down at him and smiles.

God, he loves this man.

— Ah, wait, that's too much again. Stop thinking like that, Date! ]

Hey, just let me.

[ And Date is leaning in, sweet as can be as he presses his lips to Gustave's in a soft kiss. Chaste though, not deepening it just yet, just a solid press of lips to lips in soft affection but he doesn't want to draw too much attention on them either. ]

[ Date does not need to finish that sentence for Gustave's brows to immediately ascend towards his hairline, although the fact that he doesn't at least keeps them from launching into orbit. It's a small miracle that Date has the tact to not blurt his raunchy thoughts out loud all the time. Still, Gustave's fingers tighten undeterred around Date's, silently trusting even while they're out here embarrassing each other. Because Date's embarrassed, too - that flush on his face isn't just from the weather, Gustave knows - and that just makes it all rather silly. What a couple of fools they are. They're too old for this nonsense.

Back home, his love life was a matter of public opinion -- as was everyone else's, with the ever-shrinking population and nonstop stream of orphans. He'd always resented that. Things are different here; he can share a kiss with someone in front of all these people and none of them will even remember it happened five minutes from now, let alone pester him about marriage or children or all the other things he'd wished he could have. Things are different. He watches Date watching him, and, briefly, feels a funny sort of way, but he doesn't dare to feel it for too long - he just gives him that lopsided smile, sheepish, and ducks his chin in a little nod. ]

O-okay?

[ his eyes flutter shut, and of course Gustave kisses him back, innocent and a touch shy even though he's long lost count of how many times he's kissed this man. In the cold, Date's lips feel warmer than ever; if it weren't for his keen awareness of the eyes on him, he'd want to linger, hold him closer, but he's too self-conscious to dare. It's only a moment before he gently pulls back, a bit bashful, and the metal fingers of his left hand flex to entwine with Date's almost in apology.

He's caught between being embarrassed and being a little extra smitten with Date's continual sweetness. ]

Was that... good? Did we do it right?

[ It's such a chaste, normal kiss that it's kind of funny to Date. No pressure to make it deeper, no chasing each other, no falling into something a little more desperate and needy. Just a kiss, smitten and fond and Date can't help but smile into it for half the kiss. When Gustave pulls back, Date's expression is still so helplessly fond, especially at his questions, that he nods. ]

Yeah, I think so.

[ He'll take his fingers in hand, finding comfort in the cool metal in a way he's grown to appreciate over their time together. He wants more time with Gustave now, though they still have plenty of Christmas festival to wander about. And they still haven't even gotten close to that Ferris Wheel which Date still isn't sure if they're going on or not. He should probably ask Gustave what his thoughts are.

He's so busy staring fondly at Gustave though that he only looks up, surprised, when the woman at the cider stall clears her throat. Looking over at her, she pushes two cups of hot cider their way with a wink and says:

For the kiss, your ciders.

Date doesn't know what she's saying, since it's in French, but he does pick up on what she means from the way she offers them the ciders and gestures to the sign advertising free ciders for couples who kiss. Alright, yeah, that's nice. ]

Oh — right.

[ Date will take one of the ciders and awkwardly offer a merci of thanks to the woman before looking back at Gustave. ]

[ by the way, hearing Date trying to speak French is unbearably adorable to Gustave. He'd never thought much about how the two of them were able to understand each other until he came here - now he figures it must be some kind of enchantment they got on the show, considering he didn't understand anyone else's Japanese, either. It's a bizarre and fascinating convenience. It also makes Date's attempts to actually speak his mother tongue a little more special. (And endearing. He's sure his own efforts to say anything in Japanese aren't as cute...)

Gustave blinks over at the woman, too, giving her a chagrined nod and his own thank you, sorry before taking his cider, too, and gratefully waving at her before shuffling off with Date. At which point a smug smile starts creeping across his face. ]

Kaname... You were jealous, weren't you? Worried she was going to try and trick me into a kiss?

[ he gently bumps his shoulder against Date's before gingerly lifting the apple cider for a sip. Very gingerly, because it's extremely hot -- but also extremely good. They definitely didn't have drinks like this back home. Or in his new home in Tokyo, for that matter. ]

[ Oh, he's being teased. There's a ducking of his head slightly and a pinking of his cheeks that has nothing to do with the light snow as his shoulder is bumped and they walk off, with Gustave's words ringing in his ear. He holds the cider in his hands, fingers curled around the drink and letting it warm himself up and he bites his bottom lip for a moment before admitting it, because there's no point in hiding it. ]

... Yeah. Look, she — you — ughhhh.

[ Closing his eyes a little as he grimaces. He's jealous, alright! And possessive! And Gustave is his, his, his! ]

You keep underestimating how handsome you are, you know. Drives me crazy. So, yeah, I don't want anyone to kiss my man except for me.

[ Said half-mumbled and with a pout on his face. After his admission, he feels even sillier though and he will just focus on taking a sip of his cider as well. Though it is very hot and he does grimace at an initial burn to his tongue when he didn't blow on it enough. Everything's coming up Date! ]

[ also unbearably adorable: Date when he gets all embarrassed. While he's grimacing, Gustave's grinning, looking irrepressibly flattered by the confirmation of his suspicions. This little jealous streak of Date's doesn't bother him one bit, clearly. When Date calls him my man, he even laughs a little, not derisive, but warm and fond and perhaps a bit bashful at being - once again - so openly wanted. ]

You keep underestimating how much I like you, chaton. Your man is very devoted to you.

[ if they weren't out in public, he'd lean over and plant a kiss on Date's hair - disregard the fact that they did just kiss in public; that was a special occasion! - and if his hands weren't full of hot beverage, he'd at least loop his arm through Date's. Alas, all he can do is hang close and keep their shoulders touching to show his affection for his possessive Perfect Match. ]

That does go both ways, though. No sneaking under the mistletoe with any, er, busty moms while I'm not looking, all right?

[ look at him, almost saying milfs ]

[ Gustave almost said milfs!!! It really does amuse him greatly, enough to bring him out of his embarrassed sulking and he blinks, looking back at Gustave and laughing a little softly as they continue walking. He gives a soft shake of his head and teases back. ]

Oh, Gustave, you're the only busty mom for me.

[ Not that Gustave is busty or a mom, but that's the point!! He is everything Date wants, even if he's not The Exact Thing Date always jokes about wanting instead. He's also filled with the urge to loop their arms together or just generally be closed but no...! First, hot drink. Then, moving closer. The festival is still so lively and bright and there's plenty more to see but with their hot drinks, they probably should take a stop somewhere to enjoy them.

Idly, Date's gaze travels to the ferris wheel in the distance and he thinks now is probably the time to ask Gustave about his feelings towards it. With anyone else, Date would just drag them over but he's trying to understand what works for Gustave and what doesn't. ]

Hey, you know how you told me once about the big wheel that one of your expeditions used to travel? It was basically a ferris wheel, right?

[ Glancing over at Gustave to meet his eyes. ]

I don't know if they scare you or not because of that but if they don't, we should ride the one here. It would be... nice.

[ Romantic, really, but Date's too shy to use the word. ]

Thank you.

[ he laughs, too, nudging him with an elbow before taking another sip of his cider. Finally, he's graduated from regular guy to busty mom... I wrote "busy mom" and that's also true.

Gustave's still enraptured enough by the novel scenery (hell, the snow itself) that he's not really thinking about any plans in particular, just staring out at the stalls and the lights and enjoying being here with Date. Obviously, the ferris wheel had caught his eye - it's hard not to notice it - but he hasn't paid it any particular thought until Date points it out to him, at which point he raises an eyebrow. ]

You - you think I'm scared of the wheels? Come on. I've always thought they were... [ he trails off. "Cool" isn't really the word when he's always thought they were a somewhat foolish use of resources and engineering know-how, but there's still something to be said for the spectacle of it all. ] Fascinating? Fascinating. Not scared at all, especially not of one that doesn't move. They did work, you know? There were just... terrain issues. And that wasn't really their fault. It's hard to plan Expeditions when we don't know exactly what the modern world looks like outside the city, so they...

[ once again, he trails off, but this time, it's because he realizes he's rambling about historical Expedition stuff. ]

Um. Yes, we should ride it, is what I'm saying.

[ It's something Date has noticed. The way Gustave will cut himself off sometimes when he thinks he's going on too long about a subject. Date doesn't think he ever goes on too long about anything though, loves to hear Gustave talk and loves to hear about his world in all the different ways he can. He's especially picked up on the fact that Gustave must be a little different than his peers, in the enthusiasm he shows about Expeditions.

So, Date looks a little amused when he agrees to ride it and his reply is nothing short of sincere instead. ]

Let's ride it. And in the meantime, you can tell me a bit more about what this Expedition did in particular. All I know is the Ferris wheel and the sea monster. Which is why I thought you might find it kind of... morbid or something. Either way, I wanna hear it.

[ WHICH... SIB IS ALLOWED TO GLOSS OVER IN THE META INSTEAD OF WRITE UP A WHOLE BUNCH OF THINGS NOT FOUND IN THE GAME AS WELL!!!

But Date means it, he's here to listen, even as he tilts his head to silently indicate which direction they should turn to Gustave, so they can start making their way to the Ferris wheel. ]

[ a nod! Riding in one of the wheels... here's something he never thought he'd do. And he doesn't even need to worry about getting gobbled up by a serpentine Nevron while he does it. ]

You do? [ he raises an eyebrow curiously, but smiles, shrugging his shoulders rather bashfully. ] Well, all right. Although I can't say there's all that much more to tell - there weren't any survivors, obviously. But I know how it got started? Our attempts at making flying machines years ago hadn't worked out, but...

[ and hear it Date will. For all his hemming and hawing when he's nervous, Gustave's an animated speaker when he's relaxed and talking about something he likes with someone he likes, and he enthusiastically relates what he knows about Expedition 50 - mostly a story about the increasing desperation within Lumière, especially among those volunteering for the Expedition, and the eccentric ideas that came hand-in-hand with it. Gustave had been alive to see this group set off, a teenager, and remembers very well watching the explorers roll onwards into the ocean upon their enormous wheel-contraption. ]

-- Honestly, it didn't even seem like a terrible idea? When I was a kid, I saw Expedition 60 leave - that was something. Their whole plan was just to train like crazy and head out into the continent with as few supplies as they could manage. Just -- a bunch of naked bodybuilders on a boat. I can't believe the Council let them go with that plan...

[ now they're standing in line for the ride, and Gustave, while still blathering, is gazing up at the wheel. It's actually not as tall as the ones from Expedition 50... which makes sense, since this doesn't need to rise up out of the sea floor. ]

[ And Date listens. The more insight he has into Gustave's world, the more he understands a bit more about Gustave himself. Gustave describes it as desperation, to find the solution, to make progress, but Date also sees it as hope. Throw everything at the wall, see what sticks, because something inevitably will stick.

And something did, didn't it? Even if Gustave hasn't gone back yet to check, but Date likes to have faith that Lumiere is still standing, with everyone there waiting for his return. Even if it means Date will lose him eventually too.

He's mostly done with his cider by the time they're in line for the Ferris wheel and so he drops his cup in a trash can nearby and tucks his hands away in his jacket. There's a raised eyebrow at the description of Expedition 60 because that seems... like some crazy survivalist TV show. A bunch of naked bodybuilders... Date is glad he isn't into bodybuilding so the image isn't even sexy to him. ]

Do you think... if you all figured out how to fly, the Nevrons would have figured out how to fly too?

[ Just an idle thought that comes to mind as Gustave describes the difficulties in getting to the continent and the different methods of traveling. But he thinks too of this serpentine Nevron eating the wheel Expedition. ]

Like, evolution. You all adapted so they adapt too. Or maybe it's less symbiotic than that and I'm reaching.

[ A shrug. He's still wrapping his head around Nevrons as a whole, really. ]

[ after he brought them up, Gustave did briefly worry that Date was going to start taking an unusual interest in Expedition 60. Random unknown Date fetish dodged! This time. ]

I... have no idea, to be completely honest with you. I'm no Nevron specialist, outside of putting them down. But I can tell you that plenty of them already know how to fly.

[ High enough to intercept flying vehicles? Maybe. He's pretty sure he's seen some big ones way up in the clouds, if only in the distance, including that serpent Date's thinking about. ]

If you want my opinion as an Expeditioner, I don't think they're evolving or anything like that. We're just uneducated, outnumbered and outclassed.

[ after that disaster on the beach, he feels quite confident that it's not an arms race between them and the denizens outside of the dome; they're closer to a bunch of organized mice trying to take down a pack of wolves. They never really had a chance. There's no skill involved, no competition - only sheer luck. A grim look creeps briefly onto his face, but Gustave does his best to let it pass him by, and, not for the first time, prays that his wish actually worked. ]

[ i don't even remember the setting where they should be meeting anymore, it is time for vague handwaveys. anyway --

As usual, Vangeance can be found wherever there's a lot of greenery. Not that he can't function in a city, of course -- ever since attaining the coveted rank of Captain, he's been required to spend more and more time within the confines of Clover, since relatively few boots-on-the-ground missions require the full might of someone of his caliber -- but he's always found himself most at-ease in the quiet of nature. Surrounded by trees, with just the rustle of leaves, the whistle of the wind, and maybe the chirping of stray birds to keep him company. So whenever he has some time that he can waste without feeling too guilty, and especially if he needs to think some matters over, he finds himself treading his usual route at the edge of the forest, looking up at the familiar, comforting shape of the many branches tangled overhead. Sure, most of the leaves have long fallen off from the latest winter chill, but that's alright; barren or not, it's still nice gazing up at the branches stretched out above.

Although, as he looks up -- ...

oh? That's new.

Anyway, whatever Cinnabar's choosing to do on this chilly winter afternoon, they might hear the gentle sounds of branches creaking and leaves rustling, coming from somewhere overhead. Something a little too prolonged and loud to be the activity of a stray squirrel or songbird. And if they come to investigate -- they'll be greeted by the curious sight of Vangeance perched up high in the branches of one tree in particular, seemingly messing with a big tangle of greenery caught amidst those branches.

Given how attentive he is to his surroundings, the fact that he actually needs a second to clock the arrival of company is a strong indicator of how absorbed he'd been in whatever he was doing. He does lean over to look down the moment he spots that movement approaching out of the corner of his vision, and calls out gently: ]

Ah, good afternoon. [ Smiling like usual, like him messing around up in a tree is a totally normal thing to be doing ... ] It's a rather chill day, isn't it?

[ It's winter. They're sleepy. But, as always, they're awake in spite of it. Humans are quite different from the other plants and animals they've observed - they don't hibernate during the cold season, and, in fact, don't even seem to slow down. Cinnabar finds it remarkable, in a distant sort of way. In a perfect world - one where they're a normal gem - having them around would probably take the edge off of the dark, lonely months this time of year. As things stand, though, they're as solitary as they've ever been. The humans cluster together in the city for warmth; thus, it's Cinnabar's duty more than ever to keep their distance, watching from the treeline while they have their holiday festivals and pretending they're not interested at all.

During the day, it's easier not to think about it. Unfortunately, it's also much easier to run into people. Cinnabar startles at the sound of his voice with an audible and not-too-elegant gwah, followed by a glare in his direction. ]

Why are you up there? [ grumbled, mildly offended, as if Vangeance did this on purpose to spook them - although, to be fair, Cinnabar sounds mildly offended most of the time. If he were someone else, they'd probably just leave, but... ] ... It's always cold during this season.

[ The startled noise ... He knows he shouldn't laugh, but Vangeance does smile to himself at the sound of it. Lucky for him that it's not too different from that usual, elusive smile he wears by default so it won't stand out too much. ]

Just a little bit of pruning.

[ It's easy for him to extend his own vines, woven from magic, to snake around the tree's main trunk, providing a sturdy anchor that he can use to rappel down to the ground; the powdery top layer of snow puffs out around the flutter of his cape as he lands lightly on his feet. In his hands is a big tangle of greenery, though a good cluster of it still remains tangled in the branches overhead. ]

Are you familiar with mistletoe? [ He holds it out for Cinnabar to look at, if they'd like. ] As charming as it is, it's a parasitic plant -- too much of it clustered on a tree can cause serious damage. I trimmed off just enough to give the tree a chance of survival. And given the season, I thought it might be nice to distribute this to the others.

[ As ever, his abilities are a fascinating phenomenon, although Cinnabar wouldn't dare to say as much to his face. Command over life and growth. They don't understand it, and they'd be lying if they said they weren't a little bitter about it in comparison to their own abilities - although calling what they do "commanding" anything is a stretch.

In any case, pruning trees in the woods sounds like an immense waste of time, and their pinched brow indicates they're about to tell him as much before he continues with his explanation. An explanation that makes sense, in that moralistic human sort of way. ]

So you're killing one plant to protect another. [ perhaps being a parasite makes it worthy of death, but Cinnabar can't help thinking it's unfair. It's not like the plant chose to be born that way. Or maybe they're the one projecting their feelings onto a bunch of plants. After all, he makes it sound like he has some plan, giving it to the others... ] Are you going to eat it or something? That's gross.

[ WHAT ELSE WOULD HUMANS DO WITH IT!! there's not a lot growing in the winter, so maybe desperate times demand they eat leaves like this?! ]

Edited 2026-01-06 06:24 (UTC)

[ help. He can't help blinking at that -- wide-eyed, a hint of surprise visible even past the imposing mask he always wears -- before giving a soft laugh. Not for long, and not meanly! Just -- it's a cute assumption to make. At least Vangeance follows it up quickly with a little clear of the throat and a soft 'excuse me.' ]

No, nothing like that. These would cause quite the stomachache if anyone were to eat them, so I'd advise against it, actually. And --

[ a gentle tip of the head towards the tree he just came down from. ]

-- I left the bulk of the plant up there. Just spread out, so it isn't in danger of killing off any main branches. Of course, if this still kills the tree then I suppose that's simply how things were meant to be. [ As much as he adores nature, he also knows that nature is cruel. He knows there's only so much he can intervene for his own selfish wants. ] But where I'm from, we often use mistletoe as a decoration around this time of year, you see. I thought it would be permissible to take just a bit of it. Something to lend a festive mood and help keep spirits up.

[ Things always get a little gloomier in the winter, after all, with long nights and chilly, gray days. ]

Have you heard about a holiday called Yule, by any chance?

[ Ah. So it was less moralistic and foolish than they were imagining. Some part of them reprimands themself for assuming Vangeance would do something so myopic and idealistic - he's not the type, and it's part of the reason they respect him to a slightly higher degree than the other humans. They absolutely were projecting, weren't they? How pathetic. Cinnabar folds their arms over their chest, briefly staring down at the snow with some unspoken shame.

Decoration makes more sense than eating, too, though they can't say they see the aesthetic appeal in this particular plant. His question gets them to lift their head up again, gazing at him furtively through their crystalline bangs. ]

... I know you're all having some kind of winter festival.

[ the reason for it has escaped them, as has the name. Yule, then. ]

be creative?!

[ Do forgive him, Alexander, for staring up with an expression somewhere between dumbstruck and aggravated as Ebenholz fails to move away from the spot he seems strangely rooted in at the moment.

Let's be real, there was no way this mistletoe thing was going to be happening without the charmed version of it, and the wheels in Ebenholz head have finished spinning to understand what is happening here, why it is probably happening, and to decide just how angry he wants to be about it when he finds the culprit.

He looks about ready to take out bystanders too when his head whips around to look at the approaching figure, ready to snarl out something particularly odious, though his mouth snaps shut as the movement in his peripheral takes form and he sees who it is now. There is actually a visible relaxing of some of the tension in his shoulders, and while his brow doesn't unfurrow, it does at least ease in knitted intensity. ]

Herr Alexander...

[ NOT GETTING YELLED AT BY EBENHOLZ FRIENDSHIP LEVEL ACHIEVED 👏👏👏👏

honestly, Alexander probably isn't even aware that he's achieved anything out of the ordinary here; his view of others is informed almost solely by his own interactions with them, and so even if Ebenholz is notably rude to others, Alexander sees him as nothing worse than standoffish. He's the guy who helped him while he was stuck and has been giving him safe shelter since! Therefore, he's a good boy.

He's rather enjoying the holidays, as someone who's never celebrated any. When he reappears, he has a (sizable) poinsettia garland draped over his shoulders - or the little pot-handles that serve as shoulders, anyway - like a proper decorative urn. ]

Ah, Ebenholz! Excellent timing. I have something here for you! Go on, don't be shy. [ he holds out his hands, evidently completely unaware that Ebenholz is currently bothered by anything at all. Cradled very, very carefully between his two big stony palms is... an earthenware jar. One that looks almost identical to Alexander himself, actually - save for the fact that it's the size of a mug and appears intended for use as one. ] I've heard this is the season for giving gifts, so I made this for you, as thanks for all you've done.

[ Abrasive as Ebenholz can be with most people, there's something about the earnestly kind that makes it hard for him to maintain his usual churlish behavior. Alexander is the perfect mix of genuine and upbeat that makes it hard for Ebenholz to be any more than a bit snippish and rude at worst, rather than the sort of aggressively biting he can be when he truly doesn't like someone.

And how is one expected to maintain that sort of unpleasant demeanor towards someone who will walk up to them and unprompted offer them a gift? Sure, there is a seasonal precedent for something like this, but Ebenholz still looks taken aback as he reaches out to take the little jar from the man, his own difficult predicament momentarily shuffled to the side so he can blink down at the jar with a sort of wide-eyed bemusement. ]

You made this?

[ Surely he means in the traditional way instead of...

The jar doesn't have arms and legs, and isn't moving around. He definitely means it in the traditional way. ]

I wasn't aware you were skilled at pottery.

[ He's also not entirely sure what to feel about the fact that the man who is a large jar is good at something like this. ]

[ he chuckles to himself, a proud sort of hm-hm!, and folds his arms over his front. ]

Indeed. Though I may be a fierce warrior, I also harbor a sensitive, creative side, you see. [ a beat. ] In truth, a great many of our kind are old hands at sculpting jars and the like - we'd have a jolly hard time fixing ourselves up if we couldn't patch a hole every now and then.

[ and maybe they also create more of themselves this way. Who can say? Ebenholz can rest easy knowing the one he's holding is nothing more than a regular clay mug. It's quite nice, especially considering the man who made it is essentially a giant. ]

And it's a time-honored tradition for us to give them as presents to our goodly allies. I thought about making you a helmet, but I confess I couldn't figure out how I'd make it fit with your horns.

[ yes the helmet is just a jar you put on your head. ]

[ Put that way, Ebenholz sees the purpose of learning pottery as a jar. Strange to think that learning to work with clay is the equivalent of someone learning to become a doctor, or at the very least learning to field dress a wound.

Something that Ebenholz could not admit to being a deft hand at, despite having gone on several field missions for Rhodes Island at this point in his career. Field missions where a helmet could in theory be useful, but...

Ebenholz's nose wrinkles for a second at the thought. ]

I assure you, this gift will do just fine. For Leithanian casters such as myself, we don't typically wear armor into skirmishes. Beyond needing our field of vision completely unhindered, we tend not to find ourselves in the front where things get quite so...

[ He makes a vague gesture with his hand. Stabby. Smashy. Cutty... What have you, really. ]

I also admit, I do not think I own anything that would go well with a helmet anyway. This jar, however, I can put many useful things inside of.

Hah! Silly lad - a jar goes well with everything! [ thus indirectly confirming that the helmet would, indeed, be a big jar that goes on his head. ] But, no matter now; it is what it is, and that one there is more fit for a hot beverage than a battle. When it comes fighting, I'll be all the protection you require.

[ Alexander is expressionless, as ever, but he seems pleased that Ebenholz accepted his present. Without complaint, even. Just because he's clueless to Ebenholz's mean tendencies doesn't mean he's ignorant to his generally-grouchy demeanor. With his present exchanged, he leans down a little bit again, inquisitive. ]

Now, what is it? You looked quite troubled ere I approached.

Edited 2026-01-06 06:33 (UTC)

[ When you're a jar... everything else is a jar too, huh?

No, that doesn't quite seem like the right metaphor for life, but Ebenholz won't question it too much. He's found that sometimes Alexander is easier to understand if he just quietly accepts these things about him.

Besides, what's the point in focusing on the little things like how many jars the man crafts in his free time when he can instead go through the rapid emotions of being touched by the offer of protection, and then immediately after somewhat embarrassed by the question that he knows he'll have to answer.

He has no sense for whether the two of them are stuck here together or Alexander can just mosey on his way as he pleases, but for his part Ebenholz isn't going anywhere, and he can make some guesses to what actions need to be taken in order to set him free. ]

I assure you it's not you personally, Herr Alexander.

[ Ebenholz pauses for just a few seconds, before clearing his throat, eyes closed so he can maintain some dignity and composure here. ]

I've found myself trapped by someone's idea of an Arts infused prank.

[ He'll gesture vaguely upward, still not entirely certain how Alexander's range of vision works when the man has no visible eyes. ]

[ jar is a lifestyle...

Alexander does tilt his rim upwards to follow Ebenholz's gesture. Is he doing that because he's actually seeing from there, or because the collective memory of being human compels him to mime out the action?? No one will ever know. ]

A magicked prank? You mean this little dangling bit of shrubbery?

[ he can tell Ebenholz is vaguely embarrassed by it, but he has no idea why?? One stony arm unfolds to poke at the mistletoe (very gently). Seems like... a plant. Maybe he's become too old to understand the humor of the current generation... ]

MISTLETOE IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 2025

messmer

gustave

i'm proud

thank you me too

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im alive GRAHHHGHHGHHGG

ME TOOOOOOO

Re: ME TOOOOOOO

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steve

claire

cinnabar

walks in late with starbucks (sorry i was getting squelched)

it's the squelchiest time of the year

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crawls out of the holidays back into your arms

let us both regain our strength

(both of us proceed to get immediately blown up by the ayto bomb)

alexander

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