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

[swill]

It wasn't that he loved being on the receiving end of the Look. Wasn't that he loved being treated like a child, though he wouldn't admit to not feeling the relief of being allowed to act like one. But maybe it did something to a grown man to be handled that way by the legendary Wyatt Earp. He has to stifle a genuine apology.

"I wasn't calling you crazy," he clarifies, voice loud and a smidge rushed. "I mean, it's good to know I'm not the only nutjob who doesn't mind hearing it so much anymore, but I'm directing the 'crazy' here at everything. We're playing Secret Santa for dragons and armored tanks. What can be worse than explaining that?" Because explaining an other-worldly death game, being brought back to life, and time travel would gander pity. It would put him in a madhouse, cackling in a padded cell, alone. But say that, above that all, there's this gift-giving holiday and everyone was so cheery happy-happy through it all-- it was crazy. It was. He wasn't wrong here.

[the_marshal]

"Who says ya gotta explain anythin'?" he asked, conversationally, arching a mild eyebrow at Hawkeye. "They took us from a point in time, why couldn't they send us back to it?"

If they ever went back. Wyatt himself wasn't among those that believed they would. Not if the Capitol had any say in it.

(Maybe after. When justice was brought to the Capitol, maybe they'd be able to puzzle out how they'd been brought here in the first place and how to undo it. Maybe some would be able to go back. Wyatt wasn't sure he would be.

A year. He'd been here longer than that now, and his hopes and dreams had changed much in that time. From pinning his badge back where it belonged, to tilling earth. From the faces he forgot the details of a little more each day, to the ones with him now, fighting at his side.)

He approached a door coming up to the side of them, reaching for the carved wood handle - encouraging, he thought - and giving it a pull. He stepped back with it, motioning Hawkeye through ahead of him.

[swill]

He had thought long and hard about the possibility of going back- it'd been his subject of choice to muse about in those plush Capitol beds or under the steady stream of water that came with a proper shower. If they brought them in, they could take them out. But he hadn't thought about the time, specifically, and having it pointed out makes him shut up and ponder.

He'd just told himself the Army was good at finding replacements, and that the 4077th could survive damn well without him there, though he hated to admit it. They were a machine, and one part could be swapped for another, and it would take time for it all to work together as seamlessly but it would, because there wasn't another option. But what Wyatt proposed made as much sense as anything else, and he felt like a fool for not having considered it.

He huffs out a "Huh" and slips through the open door only mentioning something about what a gentleman Wyatt was. His eyes go to explore the shop, and he's not a yard indoors before he's got his hands on something on display,the snow of his shoes trailing a mess behind him. "What were you hoping to buy, lighter fluid? A flint stone? Polish for the scales?" Like he was the store manager or something.

[the_marshal]

Wyatt pushed the door closed behind them, tapping his boots calmly on the mat just inside on the floor while Hawkeye wandered ahead, child-like in his eagerness. Reminding Wyatt of a puppy he'd had once, rushing about to take it all in through his nose, mouthing on everything.

"Ain't sure yet," he said, echoing his early admittance. "I got a few folks on my list an' only one bought for."

The little box shifted in his pocket as he moved off the mat, brushing by Hawkeye to drift down the aisle.

Max was practical enough to appreciate a good striking set, Wyatt figured, chewing over Hawkeye's suggestions... but it wasn't like he'd have any use for it here. And he wouldn't be allowed to take it with him if he was sent back into the arena.

"It's different this year," he muttered softly, almost to himself as he reached out to rub his thumb over tall, thick candle. (Even they had changed over the years, coming in every color he'd ever seen, and smelling of every damned thing from cooked meat to sweet flowers.) "Christmas always been important, but this year...."

It felt even bigger. Like he had to make the most of it.

A year was already rare... How likely was it that he'd last another in the arena?