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."

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"Kinda harder to deny that." He falls into step with Wyatt, rubbing at his reddish eyes. "Don't think I'm not the kind of kid who peeks at presents early. I totally am."

[the_marshal]

"Good thing I keep 'em close then," Wyatt chuckled. Not particularly surprised, nor troubled, that Howard could guess what he was up to.

Shortening his stride so the boy could keep up, he looked across at him. "So you'll jus' to wait like everyone else."

[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."

[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.

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"Careful, old man. I got sticky fingers." Howard's grin works up to the apples of his cheeks, drawn otherwise taut by stress and thinness. He seems a little out of breath already.

"I ain't gotten you nothing yet."

[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?"

[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 smile turned gentle, the amusement in his eyes shifting into something softer and warmer.

"It ain't a requirement, son," he told Howard, reaching out to rest a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Ya don't need to get me anythin'."

[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."

[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?"

[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?"

[the_marshal]

"Christmas," Wyatt supplied as they fell in together, shoulder-to-shoulder, moving down the sidewalk. "An' gift givin' is a part of it, yes."

He scanned the stores around them, mouth pulling wryly. Bright flashing lights, signs proclaiming special sales - everything at varying degrees of loud.

"That said though, I won't deny the rest of it seems to have changed since my time."

[gluteus]

"It existed, then, for you?" Maximus asked, raising an eyebrow.

"What was it like in your time?" He asked as he scanned the windows full of ridiculous Capitol trinkets.

[the_marshal]

"Well," he began, brow furrowing gently. "I can't say it meant the same to everybody. Myself, I didn't ever really put much into the religious side of it."

Wyatt wasn't certain he could be called a Godly man, as he'd never put much stock in the requirements of the Church. He'd been more of the belief that if he'd needed a word with God, he could reach him just as easily from the back off his horse, or from his bedside, as he could in a pew.

Living the life, as good a man as he could be, he'd figured, was all God could really ask of anyone.

...Not that he really believed in much of anything these days. Not when it came to that sort of thing. Hard to believe in a compassionate, righteous God, when he let things like the Games happen.

"But foremost, that's what it was. A commemoration of the birth of Jesus Christ."

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

He jerks from the hand (The Flinch returned) without thinking. He catches himself immediately, and tries to find words to preclude the hurt and worry he knows will cross Wyatt's face. "Sorry, sorry! It's not you, it's just, since Aunamee..."

Hard to be comforting about this. "I been on edge." He forces a smile. "Let's walk? I beg you haven't even decorated your room yet."

[the_marshal]

It's there, just as Howard expected, a flash in Wyatt's eyes that he couldn't quite stop. His smile fell, and disappeared, as he pulled back.

But he tried to cover for it. Clearing his throat gently and nodding.

"It's alright, Howard. I understand."

His hands fell back to his sides, settled lightly on his belt.

"An' no, I ain't. An' much reason to, there's a fine tree in the common room."

[gluteus]

"Ah. Christians," Maximus said, nodding solemnly, though he frowned slightly. Hadn't Christ been born sometime in the summer...?

Perhaps he should not comment, where religious cults were concerned.

"They existed in my time - I fought with many in the army. The festival, I suppose, did not yet exist, though we had others around this time."

He walked along next to Wyatt, pausing as he glanced in a window before shaking his head. "How did you celebrate then, if you did not 'put much into the religious side'?"