It's the Season of Cold Making Warmth a Divine Intervention [Open]

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

WHO| Howard Bassem and open
WHAT| Howard celebrates Christmas. Desperately.
WHEN| A few weeks after the Crowning.
WHERE| District One Suite
WARNINGS| The R thread contains Howard teaching a now-Living zombie how and why to use the toilet.

The holidays usher in loneliness and cheer as a pair. Howard prefers to spend his attention on the latter if he can help it, and as such he's driven himself whole-heartedly into gussying up the District One suite.

The tree appears to have been outright attacked by decorations, which dangle on top of each other and hang from tinsel strands and overlap. The lounge TV has been set to play A Christmas Story on loop. Howard's set up a cheesy nativity scene for a religion he doesn't believe in out of action figures and silverware, with a little salt-shaker Jesus swaddled in toilet paper. As the rest of his suite was sleeping, Howard went full-tilt into packing the common areas with all the season's tidings of the Macy's parade and the Martha Stewart magazine December issue.

It's better than last Christmas, he tells himself. He can't even really remember much about last Christmas, except that he purposefully said "happy holidays" to Orc just to see if it would piss him off, and that it otherwise passed like any other hungry, desperate day in the FAYZ. And the one before that was the first Christmas without his parents.

And by contrasting this Christmas with the last two, he hopes he can pack up the hole he's cut out of the holiday cards where they said things like from our family to yours and to you and yours. The mutilated greetings sit atop a few meticulously-packed wrapped presents tucked under the tree. A refurbished record player for R, some of Wyatt's clothes fixed, jewelry for Julie and Eponine and Ellie, a watch for John and a wallet for Orc, a fancy cat dish for Sigma, some kind of weird scarf for his secret Santa - Howard spent barely any money on these things, but he did waste many hours digging through the garbage or pilfering from Capitol stores to accumulate them.

Each gift seems like some way to make solid that he's building a life here, that he's forming relationships he plans on keeping, like active resistance against the very real permanent death in his future. Whenever he thinks about it too hard it seems so obvious he's telling himself a lie, but he wants to keep holding onto it. Telling himself things he doesn't believe is probably one of the healthier coping mechanisms he has.

Having completed his holiday explosion, Howard sits at the counter in the kitchen, humming Christmas songs and lighting pine-scented candles.

Comments

[onlyimmune]

Ellie's still in her pajamas when she emerges from her bed room and into the common room for the suite, and her presence is announced by a surprised laugh as she wanders over to the tree.

"What the fuck happened in here?" She says, completely amiably. "It's like Santa Claus blew up and coated the whole room in his holiday guts."

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"I was thinking more 'attack by Christmas elves', but we can do exploding Santa, too." Howard's in his pajamas still too, although his are silk and with snowflakes on them. Without the padding his stylists usually work into his outfits, he looks even smaller and frailer, and his fingers reach like shadows.

He grins and heads over to flop down on a couch. "You may and should deliver all your holiday tribute to me, your vaunted ruler, under the tree of offerings."

[onlyimmune]

Ellie does an elaborate bow, with lots of flailing hand gestures. "Of course, Oh Supreme Lord of Santa's Guts," She says as her fingertips touch the floor and she comes back up again.

"Give me two seconds and I'll run back and get it."

True to her word, she ran back to her room and then returned. The package was obviously wrapped by her, and not by anyone in the capitol, and in fact seems to be a little soggy on the bottom.

"You have to promise not to fucking laugh," She says and she hands it to him. "I made one of the creepy slaves help me."

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

Howard cackles and claps his hands with glee, lifting his feet from the floor and kicking them a little while he waits. He pulls his tribble, warm and purring, from his pocket and tosses it in the air. It seems to purr even more loudly when it lands.

He's got Ellie's present waiting in his lap when she returns. "Dude, what are creepy slaves for if not for gift-wrapping stuff? Hand it over."

[onlyimmune]

She grins and climbs onto the couch over the back so she can land next to him. She holds it out.

"Here," is all she says. Inside is a large apple tart that she baked, with help from an avox. It doesn't necessarily look the most appetizing, but she hopes it tastes alright anyway.

Baked goods tended to remind her of him, after all.

[shambler]

"Smells...like trees," R says when he stumbles in.

For a change he doesn't bump shoulders off the door frame. His chin is up instead of drooped to his chest as he looks around, his grey eyes sweeping around the room until he falls on Howard. Compared to the explosion of tinsel, Howard's almost easy to miss. Shooting Howard a "I'm going to check things out" grunt, R staggers around so he can see up close and personal just what Mr. Bassem thinks Christmas is. It's...shiny. Smells like a lot of plastics and candles that smell like trees/pumpkins/other stuff. He pauses at the nativity set to stare. The set-up looks...vaguely familiar -

He remembers a rainbow of lights sparkling in the trees. Three men, knocked over with their plastic faces splattered with blood. No idea if it was something he'd seen or caused. No year, no town, no context. More nothing.

R turns back toward Howard, clearing his throat. "Happy...Holidays, by...the way," he says, manages a smile, and hopes he doesn't slobber on his decorations. Look, he wants to share the Cure with Howard, but that doesn't mean he wants to start with ruining all his hard work, either.

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

Howard almost doesn't register it's R for a moment. Usually he can tell it's the zombie before he even gets a look at him; either the stink or the shuffling telegraphs his presence. This time, the stink battle seems to be being won by whatever perfume R's teal-swathed Escort chose today. R could pass as a particularly fragrant old woman.

"Happy Holidays, Rob." Howard hops away from the counter and practically scampers over to the tree in the lounge, a grin spreading over his face. "I got you something, hold on-"

He grabs a large box and pulls it from beneath the tree. The wrapping paper is red and gold, put on with obvious care but without much skill. The edges are crinkled and overtaped. Howard looks like a child showing off his first fingerpainting as he gives it to R.

It's important, gift-giving. To have enough things to be able to say "look, I'm giving you this with no strings attached" and mean it is a gesture that speaks louder than the words Howard can never seem to locate.

"Aw, look at you, you practically have skin tone."

[shambler]

Oh Howard, you know exactly how to flatter a zombie. R perks up, stands a little straighter and even manages a smile that doesn't look like it's twitching reluctantly on his face.

"You...think so?" R looks about as pleased as is inhumanly possible. "Cure...working. Show...you."

After the present, though. He can show off how his rash has spread later. Now R holds out his hands and he's relieved that things like slippery fingers seems to be a thing of the past with the Cure spreading through his corpse like the best kind of virus. He can feel the wrapping paper crinkling, smell the tape. Things hit him in a way they didn't before, when they were only pieces of the environment, shuffled to the background because they weren't edible, were grey and moldy like everything else. Now he's noticing them more and more. (He's happy to say he doesn't even try sniffing at the present). Shooting Howard a look, R shuffles over to the closest chair and sits down.

He's not worried about dropping it. His sense of balance, though, isn't so hot. Falling on it could still be a possibility.

It takes a few tortured minutes for him to figure out how to unwrap Howard's present. Seriously, that's a lot of tape. He's broken through barricades that weren't even half as fortified as this!

The shape, though, tells him all it needs to. He runs his fingers over it, his caresses filling in the blanks even as he tears clumsily through the wrapping paper. Spindle. Tone arm. Counterweight. He's run his hands over these shapes for hours at a time, days. Trying to understand.

R stares down at the record player gleaming in his lap. Then he looks up at Howard. Stares some more.

His mouth parts behind the muzzle and then he closes it. His Adam's Apple bobs as he swallows. There's a strange burning sensation in his eyes, something caught in his throat.

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

He waits while R pulls apart the wrapping paper, not with the fumbling he used on the pillbottle but something a little more dexterous, with fingers a little more precise. All the changes are subtle; it isn't like R's become a new person overnight, bubbling with life. It's as if he's dethawing, still flush with freezerburn, still cold and stiff, but no longer carved from ice and snow.

Howard realizes at that point that he's never seen R grin. He doesn't know if the muscles are atrophied or what. Maybe R's aware that the gingivitis of death doesn't come across as particularly photogenic. The little uptick at R's lips is the closest Howard's ever gotten to putting happiness on R's face.

He reaches over and wipes a small trail of drool from the corner of R's mouth, gentle as a mother caressing an infant. Probably a little too forward, as he continues toeing that line of intimacy between friend and creep. Affection is all the same to Howard, a tangle impossible to sort away

"So it's good? I take it it's good?" He puts his hands on his knees and leans forward. His own grin is wider than R's, whiter, almost manic. It's as if the excitement has brought anxiety along his veins with it.

[the_marshal]

Christmas.

He'd delivered his gift to Iskierka days ago, after receiving the reminder note (and the unsettling package) from Cruentus, but those closest to him - those that embodied Wyatt's spirit of the holiday - he waited until the traditional day. Wanting to share it with them, to celebrate the way one should, with family and friends.

He hadn't given Max his yet, but as his gift would require extra effort - on both their parts - he went to Howard first, the same little box the boy had caught him on the street with once again in hand.

Crossing beneath the false snow, still drifting lazily, he spotted Howard at the table and smiled.

"Merry Christmas, Howard."

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"Wyatt!"

Howard knows he shouldn't be surprised - he feels he shouldn't be surprised. But like a dog that suspects its human has abandoned it forever, his cheer at seeing Wyatt approach isn't without a tinge of relief as well. He gets up from the counter and hustles over, dressed in his Christmas pajamas with silver threads of snowflakes embroidered in the fabric.

"I'll have you know I didn't even peek at what you got me. Because I'm a mature adult. And I'm patient. Totally."

[the_marshal]

He might have hugged him, almost opened his arms to do so -- but it was Christmas, and that last thing he wanted to do was upset the boy. Instead, he chuckled, eyes crinkling pleasantly at the corners.

"Then I 'spose you've really earned this, ain't ya?" he teased, holding the box out.

A box, white and lightly textured, and tied with a bright red ribbon. Inside was a necklace, a simple cord necklace - much like his own - and hanging from it were two small golden charms. A little rabbit, and a gold star.

Tokens. To remind Howard, even in the arena, that he wasn't alone.

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

Howard, always more comfortable initiating, squeezes Wyatt around the waist and takes the box. He holds it as if it's an offering to be put on a shrine, but he doesn't open it yet. Instead he places it on the couch as he retrieves the semi-floppy wrapped bundle for Wyatt.

Some of Wyatt's clothes and his hat, pilfered and then lovingly stitched and mended. The hat has a patch in matching fabric on the outside and a new lining with a subtle pattern of horses to replace the old one, battered and stained with sweat. The pants and shirt are mended with chocolate and gold threads.

Howard's fingertips, swollen and pinked, bear testament to the effort he put into his amateur repairs.

"Open 'em together?"

[gardienne]

Eponine doesn't want to do it. Or else - yes, she does. She wants to hurt him. She wants to see him hurt. She wants him to realise how loud the silence is without her breath next to him. She wants him to hear her footsteps louder than ever now that she is gone. She wants him to remember her dressed in that terrible wooly cardigan and faded blue dress she had worn so often when they were together. She wants to see his heart break.

She wants all of it - but at the same time, she doesn't think she can stand to see his heart break and know that she has caused it. It's awkward wanting two things that are the exact antithesis of each other. But Eponine is a contrary character. And she thinks she's come up with a perfect answer to her dilemma.

She's hoping to scoot into District One, and leave her present outside Howard's door - but he's there when she comes in, clutching the big box of assorted chocolates. And it's too late to bottle out now. So she holds out the present silently, not looking at Howard.

She really wishes she hadn't scoffed all of the chocolates, except the cappuccino ones, which she doesn't like, and filled the box with broken fragments of all the jewellery Howard had ever given her.

"Don't open it yet." She doesn't want to see his face.

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"Hey."

He's truly not sure if he wants to see Eponine, and that feeling only intensifies when she knocks on the District One door carrying a gift. He opens the door and doesn't invite her in.

"Hold on, I'll get yours."

[gardienne]

"Don't."

He got her a present? Why - why would he do that? He shouldn 't have done that , not when her's is so cruel. He's going to hate her. Not love her at all. But maybe he will. Maybe...

She can't do it. She has to leave. She heads for the door.

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

Something about expecting to find someone and seeing the doorway empty never fails to nurture the dark hole in Howard's guts.

"Okay, fine, be that way." Howard tosses the package out the door after her. It claps against the hallway wall and falls to the floor.

[drpsychosomatic]

It took John a while to realise that Howard was perhaps not exactly avoiding him, but not quite seeking him out, either- and considering what had happened last time they'd met, he felt it was important to check in, apologise and reassure. It wasn't difficult to find Howard for once, much more comfortable in his own suite these days, and the Christmas set-up made him smile-- though it did remind him that he hadn't really done anything for the holidays yet himself, and that he really should get on with that.

"Hey," he offered in greeting, smiling as he found Howard in the kitchen. "Looks like someone in your District takes Christmas a little more seriously than anyone in mine- how's it going?"

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

For a good minute, Howard just freezes like a mouse in front of a cat, eyes wide as he crashes into a wall of conflicting emotions. Mostly glee that John's back. Partially screeching paranoia that John's only active nice long enough to get him in close and then tear into him.

Then he relaxes, slightly, eased only by the knowledge that John's had better reasons to be angry at him and never once acted on them.

"I didn't think you'd come by." He hops away from the counter. "I, um, I'm okay, I got you something, I mean, if you're comfortable taking it, you don't have to."

[drpsychosomatic]

Everything about John's posture and expression was relaxed- he didn't have the cane today, and though he was limping slightly when he walked, he stood perfectly steadily. When Howard mentioned a gift, a slight heat rose to the tips of his ears and his cheeks- embarrassment at being caught out without a present to give in return rather than an unwillingness to accept anything from Howard. He shifted his weight slightly.

"That's-- really very kind of you, Howard, thank you," he managed after a moment of floundering. "You'll have to wait for yours though, alright? I'm nowhere near as organised with all this as you seem to be."

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"I-I can hold off if you don't want it, I mean, it's nothing big, I don't want you feeling guilty or nothing."

Howard had a few ideas of how things would go when next he saw John. Between 'crawling in a hole and dying' and 'being swept off his feet', this is somewhere on the more negative side, but not outright awful. Even if he wants to swallow his own tongue.

"It's okay, Christmas is just, you know. A rough time of year so I like to be distracted and stuff."

im so sorry for how back taggy this is

[keep_surviving]

[ooc; I just had this in my head before my writers block and I needed to post it to get things flowing again. Go ahead and ignore it now. --;; ]

Diana loved Christmas.

It might come as a bit of a surprise to anyone who knew her, but she did.

Christmas specials. Horrendous outfits. Cheesy cards. Garnish decorations. She loved it. She blamed her upbringing. Though, no one could really complain about being a pampered child on Christmas.

She walked around, actually smiling. Actually giddy. Actually happy.

Of course, she hadn't acted like this at Christmas time in FAYZ. But that was because there hadn't been a Christmas there. The time had passed most definitely. But no Christmas. Not what Diana called Christmas. That's why she hadn't acknowledged it.

But now there was music and food. There was everything childish and painfully cheery and she adored it.

So when Diana came to see Howard she actually made a delighted noise through her nose at the child-like decorations.

"Howie!" She knocked on the door, wearing a sparkle infested penguin sweater that was so large it hung off her right shoulder. "Come out here and wear this terrible jumper I bought you."

[ooc; Bonus round; count how many times I wrote Christmas in January.]

gimme all ur tags 8D

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"Oh shit, it's Frosty the Snow Whore," Howard yells, but he's actually in a pretty good mood too. He screws up his nose at her and snorts. "I didn't get you anything. I hope that'll keep you from giving me the gift of herpes."

Or whatever else he assumes she's carrying on her, because he's a teenage boy and a virgin and girls who have sex are gross, mmkay.

He displays his own ugly sweater, which bears a cat in a Santa hat. "Besides, I've already got a sweater."

[keep_surviving]

She doesn't even seem to hear his insult. It rolled off her back like water. Or maybe she couldn't hear it through the thick cloud of Christmas corniness she had surrounding her.

Diana pouts for the briefest moment, stomping her foot like a toddler. "Damn."

Then she snaps her fingers and grins. "Then I'm getting you some antlers. Come on." She tugs impatiently on the cuff of his sweater sleeve."

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"You are not putting me in antlers. Unless you put an elf hat on, then maybe we can bargain." Howard gestures to his bedroom and tugs back. "Check it out, I got a gingerbread house for us to demolish."