Pretty paper, pretty ribbons of blue.

[the_marshal]

WHO| Wyatt and OTA
WHAT| Christmas Shopping!
WHERE| Various Capitol shops
WHEN| After getting the Secret Santa notes
Warnings| None at the moment. Will edit if anything comes up!



Like all the others, Wyatt had discovered the note in his room directing him to come up with a gift for one of his fellow tributes for Christmas. Never mind that he'd never even met the "Iskierka" listed on the card, or even known there was any kind of gift exchange going on in the first place.

...But he couldn't say that the idea didn't appeal, the more he thought about it. There hadn't been much to celebrate, that first Christmas of his in the Capitol, but this year....

Picking up the strange card he'd been given - trying not to think of the funds they'd given him as blood money - he cornered his escort for information (the man tried at least to look sheepish for signing Wyatt up) and then headed out into the snow.

Even armed with everything his escort could tell him about Iskierka, Wyatt still had little idea where to start shopping for a dragon. While he chewed it over, he hunted down some other gifts, knowing nothing would really be able to tell Max or Howard what they meant to him, but wanting to do something, all the same.

Comments

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

Howard wants really badly to get into the Christmas spirit. He's gone through the motions with the pretense of gusto. His room is decorated with tinsel; the District One lounge has a tree in it; his door bears a wreathe overflowing with poinsettias and holly. But for the moment, it's fake.

Whenever his birthday comes around, he worries. He hopes that, like last year, it'll feel better when it passes. Then again, last year he didn't have to worry about Aunamee, or the Games, or Sponsors, or Eponine, or a million other things.

Just hunger and mutant animals and the plague and the niggling feeling he might vanish into thin air.

At least Christmas shopping can take his mind off of how frayed he feels. He packs on several layers of clothes and a list of people to grab things for (not necessarily buy) and heads out into the cold, stopping when he sees a familiar hat.

And gets a familiar idea.

"Wyatt!" He waves and approaches from a side street, tromping through snow.

[the_marshal]

Wyatt was just leaving one of the many shops he'd been in that afternoon, still weighing the wisdom of the purchase he'd just made - or lack of it - when Howard's voice broke through the chilly air.

As if his thoughts had conjured the boy. The little box in his hand some sort of siren call.

Quickly, he tucked it into one of the deep pockets of his woolen coat and turned with a smile, pausing where he was on the sidewalk to give Howard time to reach him.

"Howard," he dipped his head in a pleasant nod, mouth curled at one corner. "Stayin' out of trouble, I trust?"

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"You say that like I get into trouble on purpose." Howard presses his lips together and shakes his head, then licks some run-off from his nose from his upper lip. He jams his hands in his pockets and kicks his way onto the sidewalk, glittering with salt and tread.

For once, he's let his Stylist run a little wild. His scarf has intricate gold embroidery of nutcrackers and rocking horses, and his red gloves have little tassels around the wrist. Though it's hard to look dapper when wearing your own body weight in warm clothing, he manages to look both stylish and painfully festive.

"Whatcha got there?"

[the_marshal]

Howard was a bright little bird, hopping up beside him. Wyatt's festive spirit regulated to the box he'd just tucked into his pocket and a scarf, an emerald plaid, wound loosely about his throat.

"I say it like ya got a knack for it," he replied without missing a beat. The pull of his mouth growing as he buttoned his pocket, the box safe inside. "An' nothin' for ya to worry yerself about."

[knifewithnoname]

Pruna was still completely confused with this Christmas thing, despite Kevin's explanations. But she was in town anyways, with as many layers as her stylists let her leave in, and even a pair of fluffy boots which she hated, but preferred to having her feet fall off!

She knew very little about Perry but his list of deaths in her hands. She grinned when she saw Wyatt, the list of people Pruna liked was still quite short but he was on it.

"Hello!" She ran up to him, holding onto her head to prevent the three hats she was wearing from falling off.

[the_marshal]

He was frowning in a window at the sound of his name.

Still at loss at what to do about the dragon that had been chosen for him... and Max. Nothing he'd seen thus far, even came close to the things he wanted to say.

The things he couldn't. All his words, like the shiny trinkets in the shops, falling short.

Turning, he looked around - then down at the little splash of boots in snowy slush, and softened.

"Hello there, Pruna." He smiled down at her, watching her hats wobble as he bounded up to him. "Don't you look jus' as snug as a bug."

[knifewithnoname]

She grinned, "Bugs do be being snug?" She tilted her head at him, "Do you be wearing enough coats?" She pointed her finger at him, "Sandy did be saying if you do be getting too cold you blood will be freezing and then your toes and fingers will be falling off! You do be having to be being careful!" All these people, not wearing enough hats, she liked Wyatt and he wouldn't get far in the arena with no fingers.

[the_marshal]

His eyebrows shot up, forehead wrinkling as he chuckled, a gentle amusement.

"Well, Sandy is right, lots'a bad things can happen if ya get too cold, but generally speakin', it's got to be a heck of a lot colder than this."

Crouching beside the window, he held up his hands for her to see: a little cold to the touch, but still pink and healthy.

"See," he smiled, giving his fingers a wriggle for her, "right as rain."

[titansnack]

The Capitol had been strange enough before the Arena, and before the cold started setting in, but now...? Now things had seemed to be kicked up a notch.

His escort (whatever that meant) had seemed to take pity on him, and had explained that there was a holiday called Christmas approaching, so people were being festive and getting into the spirit. All of that sounded like complete bullshit to him. There had never been anything remotely close to what this Christmas thing was like - Eren could vaguely remember festivals, but the last one he could remember was in 845, and it had just been something small to celebrate the beginning of harvest season. There hadn't been gifts, or decorations, but Shinganshina was a small, small place, and it seemed so long ago...

But there were better things to focus on, and he could...try to get behind this holiday. He could do gifts. Apparently he had money. One hundred (which seemed like an absurd amount) for...killing someone, and access to more (which he didn't understand at all), so he figured he could get a gift for Armin. A book had seemed like a good idea, but now he's out in the Capitol and he's overwhelmed.

He lets out a frustrated groan, looking around for someone to help him. "Is this supposed to be so impossible?" he bites out, frustrated, and hopefully one of the dozens of people crowding this place takes the bait.

[the_marshal]

From where he was standing nearby behind counter, Wyatt looked up at the voice, an eyebrow raised - a thin black cord, a shining gold charm dangling from it - hanging from his fingers.

It took him a moment, to pinpoint which of the many people around him the hiss had come from, but after a beat, his gaze landed on the strange tribute.

Tribute, for certain. They all - himself included - had that way of standing out amongst the Capitol's citizens.

"All does seem a bit much, don't it?" he offered, a wry, commiserating smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

The thick crowd, the bright, gleaming lights, red and green and white as far as he could see - Christmas had always been important, but none of his had ever been anything like this.

[titansnack]

Thank you, stranger. Eren turns to him, slowly letting out a frustrated breath. Really, everything about him screams frustration - the furrow of his eyebrows, his scowl, the rigid way he carries himself - even the way he adjusts his coat is irritable.

"It's bullshit. What is the point of all of this?"

He grumbles, shooting dirty look at a Capitolite who brushes too close to him.

"Who's even heard of Christmas? Why all the fuss for something so dumb?"

[the_marshal]

Wyatt's raised eyebrow turned into a wrinkle and his hands settled slowly on the counter, the little charms on the cord clinking softly against the glass.

"I have," he told him. "It was a holiday where-" when, to be more to the point, "-I'm from."

The worker behind the corner eyed them quietly, pretending to polish a ring as he eavesdropped. Making a sale to one tribute was interesting enough, but a front row seat to watching two argue? Best Christmas present ever.

[shambler]

This is R's first real holiday. They probably stopped bothering with them before he died because the End/Apocalypse/Doomsday/Whatever had already started by then. He remembers peering into windows that hadn't been boarded up enough, aching to feel the cold and the warmth of that fire they really, really shouldn't have lit where any old zombie could see it. Regretted crashing what's their last Christmas on earth even as he licked gristle off his fingers.

It's different now.

The Cure pills in the bottle his Escort gave him seem to be working. R's had a strange feeling in his guts that he thought was nausea but seems to be something else. It's been so long he's forgotten what it feels like. Still puzzling over if his body needs to piss or eat or what, R decides what he does needs is fresh air. Besides, he likes the way his cheeks have started burning in the winter air. It's new.

Wyatt can find R blocking his next stop: the zombie-who's-less-dead-than-before is standing there staring up at the store sign, squinting, trying to make out the letters. He hears Wyatt before he smells him.

"Happy Holi-days," R groans, proud to realize he barely hesitated there and (and!) he remembered the correct thing to say. "Need...help, Wyatt?"

[the_marshal]

"Happy Christmas, R," Wyatt replied with an easy smile as he approached. "I was jus' about to ask the you same."

He'd seen the boy, lingering beneath the sign in that eerily still way of his, as he'd come down the sidewalk.

He glanced at the window, down at the trinkets on display, then back at R.

"You get signed up for the exchange too?"

[shambler]

R jerks his head in a nod that's more purposeful than usual, more attentive than drunken sagging. Seems like the tendons along his neck are losing their usual rigor mortis. "Sherlock...Holmes."

The zombie shrugs.

He's not sure which one. He was told there were two Sherlocks. R's never really gone gift shopping, like, ever, so he's not sure what to even get. He shifts more toward Wyatt, unconsciously wrapping his arms around himself against the cold. Is Wyatt a gift man? Would he have better advice than his Escort?

"Getting for...Max-imus?" R asks. Seems like the logical choice with how those two are glued at the hip.

[the_marshal]

Wyatt raised an eyebrow, guessing that was a yes and that the zombie had been selected to get something for Sherlock. (Had to be close, he figured, as to who had it worse. He couldn't say he'd have found Sherlock any easier to buy for than the dragon.)

"Iskierka," he replied, though the warmth under his handsome green scarf said he couldn't deny the truth in R's question. "But yeah, him too."

Clearing his throat, off-footed at being so obvious, he looked sidelong at R, eyes narrowing slightly as he took in the boy's high color, the brightness in the usually drab eyes. R usually looked just a shade off of death, but today....

"Ya feelin' alright, R?" he asked gently.

A trick of the sunlight off the snow, maybe, but if he wasn't feeling on, Wyatt would help him back to the Tower.

[gluteus]

Maximus frowned down at the note in his hands, wondering not for the first at the strange festivals they had here. Why by presents to remind someone of their death? But he was determined to do as asked, so he wandered around the capitol searching for something to get for Joan, when he caught sight of Wyatt coming out of a store.

An instant smile sprang to his lips and he walked over.

"Did you get one of these?" He asked, waving the paper at him.

[the_marshal]

It was maybe a good thing that he was having such a hard time settling on something to get for Max. ...He'd have hated to ruin the surprise, coming out of a store with it in hand, bumping into the man himself like this.

(Though that would have been the only sore point.)

Grinning - that instant warmth in him again - he moved out of the way of the door and reached into the breast pocket of his coat.

"I did," he replied, pulling his card free. Unfolding it, he showed it to him. "Seems most of us did."

[gluteus]

"I've never heard of this festival before," Maximus admitted, frowning down at the paper. "From what I understand I am to get her a gift." He looked back up at Wyatt and the paper in his hands.

"Did they simply assign us random tributes? Is it meant to be an anonymous festival of gifts?"

[swill]

He hated the cold but loved the snow- wasn't that odd? Cold was just there, it just bit and beat. With snow falling and covering the ground and roofs of buildings, the cold at least served a purpose. It made things beautiful, it really did, Hawkeye thought. He trudged through the snow bundled up and with a beanie cap that almost gave him the sensation of being familiar when the clothes distinctly weren't. He didn't miss the too-stiff army fatigues of Korea. He only felt out of his own skin now that he was forced not to wear them.

The note had been odd but he wasn't sure he was surprised at getting one. They were always watched, weren't they? Supposedly? Why should the humiliation end when the jungle did?

At the very least, he knew the name of who he had to gift. He had seen other Tributes around, wandering the shops and some with the note in hand of who they'd have to cheer for the cameras. His own was stuffed in some pocket- Hawkeye didn't quite remember which and didn't particularly care. In fact, after some time outside where he had just roamed here and there, he nearly plumb forgot what he was out for. Before he caught sight of the man, he caught sight of the mustache- Hawkeye straightened when he had before been slouching, and wonders briefly if he should do the poor man a favor and just leave him alone. Wyatt deserved it, definitely, but Hawkeye just wasn't so kind.

He was bored, see.

So he trots up, grin in place as if it was a part of his uniform. "Howdy," he calls. "Still searching for a jingle?"

[the_marshal]

Wyatt had paused on the sidewalk, leaning toward the street to be able to along the row of shops, trying to decide which to try next. From the coat to the hat, to the very way and place in which he stood, he gave himself away.

Being spotted and targeted for Hawkeye's humor was hardly anyone's fault but his own.

Not that he really much minded, if he was honest.

Hawkeye was tiring, but harmless.

"The song er the bell?" he fired back, turning to the find the there, sloshing up through the slush.

[swill]

"Belling the cat, are you?" And he had lowered his voice so it held a gruff sort of tone, mostly snotty and proper and entirely disbelieving and he let the grin wither away into a serene calm, amusement dancing in his expression as it should, eyes telling he was searching for something despite the roundabouts. "Applause are in store. Oh! Speaking of stores-"

And he hop-skipped to put himself between Wyatt and his way. He stooped his shoulders and tilted his head and supposed one day he'd ask the fella for his autograph. "Where are you headed?" He'd tag along- that much, Hawkeye figured he had already made obvious. He figured he'd have been brushed off already if he wasn't welcome, despite the small time together and necessary politeness that had to be thrown around.

[fire_punk]

Christmas shopping for a complete stranger was anything but easy. At least he knew enough to look for something sciencey. Of course, that still left a lot of possibilities. He stared at the shelves, not sure what would be good to get.

[the_marshal]

Wyatt had finally settled on a gift for his secret giftee, thanks to Howard. The heated rock had been a good idea, but far too small he'd figured for someone of Iskierka's size, but Howard had had another suggestion and now he stood before the shelves now, rubbing fabric curiously between his fingers. It was surprisingly soft considering what it was supposed to do.

Funny, how long he'd been surrounded by the Capitol's technology now - the lights and the screens and the flying machines - but he was still surprised by the things they came up with.

A blanket that changed temperature, as hot or cool as the dragon could want.

[fire_punk]

Kevin looked over at the man curiously. "What's that?"

He doubted it was anything sciencey enough but maybe....