logsinthenight | EVENT LOG: FEAST OF LIGHTS

characters: everyone.
location: around town.
date/time: december 23 - 30
content: Holiday cheer is here!
warnings: n/a. please cw tags appropriately.

a show of lights

When characters wake on the "morning" of the 23rd, they'll find all of Beacon is lit up beautifully. Spirits have carefully placed candles all around the town, lighting up the familiar buildings and streets with a warm, comforting glow. If others wish to help, they're more than welcome, but it won't take too long: they've clearly spent all night getting things ready. If asked, Rastus will explain the spirits do this every few years, and yes, those candles are lit from the bonfire, but he'll get them back before the end of the event.

Once the spirits finish their task, it's time to hand out dreidels! While the four-sided toy has the usual Hebrew letters on it, characters will soon realize that they've little correlation to the typical rules. Instead: each side offers a certain kind of prize (listed below). Characters can play against the spirits or among themselves, but either way, they'll find a personal dreidel in their possession for the duration of the event.

secret santa

Of course, the spirits aren't the only ones in a holiday mood. Thanks to the tireless (and secretive) efforts of Eleven, quite a number of people wake up to find a present nearby. The wrappings vary from elegant to, well, an effort, and the gifts range form big to small, but there's no doubt each was given with at least a little thoughtfulness in mind.

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Except today the Soldier lingers by the door, looking a little more awkward than usual. They don't say anything for a moment, not even to ask what they can help with, which is odd.

After that moment, they ask, "Can I see your tablet."

Por que?

"Sure, yeah," and she'll go right ahead and offer it. No reason to expect anything worrisome, however curious his behavior.

"You - okay?"

The Soldier pulls a small thumb drive out of one of their many pockets and plugs it into her tablet. "I'm good. I think. Hopefully." If she likes this, they'll be good, anyway. Giving gifts is stressful, but then, most things are stressful.

They move the files swiftly, making folders on her tablet's second swipe screen, then pops the drive out again and offers the tablet back. "Happy Christmas, Misty," they say, only a little uncertainly. They live with a pair of Brits, they picked up the European way of saying it.

The folders, when she looks at them, are all labeled as moods: happy, melancholy, thoughtful, even angry. Opening the folders show a list of names audio files, with artist and title in the filename. There is at least a hundred songs, all told.

She's confused, curious, until she isn't.

And then it's nothing but slowly rising elation. How or when he obtained these, she hardly cared. It exists, and it's there now, and it's hers. When she looks up, the gears spinning in her head are all but visible. How to respond, when words would be so laughably inadequate she hardly considers them.

An arm, even a muscled one, isn't enough mass for what she does to technically qualify as a hug, she believes. Both of her arms looped loosely around one of his at the elbow, forehead pressing briefly but firmly into his flesh shoulder.

"Thankyouverymuch--"

She likes it. That expression is liking. With that settled, and after Aziraphale's reaction to his gift that morning, with knowing Misty tolerably well by now, the Soldier makes sure they're braced and ready for something of the sort. So they don't twitch, don't jerk back, don't pull a knife, or anything. Good job, Soldat. Christmas gift number two: putting their free (albeit metal) hand on Misty's shoulders to pat them gently, letting her hug their arm as long as she needs to.

"You're welcome. I'm happy you like it." This had been one of the more labor-intensive gifts, but Misty is absolutely worth it.

"I have - no idea how to thank you for this, it's--" Her head shakes, not once breaking contact with his upper arm. It's thoughtful, and it's something that lasts, and he's unbearably kind at times for someone so ill at ease in the presence of warmth.

"What do you want? I hadn't thought you'd take too much part in this past food, and I-- well--"

This must! Be! Repaid!

"You said. Gifts for people you care about. I'm glad I surprised you, though." They're even smiling. It's a bit tight, because she's still clinging and they're still being very carefully still while she does so and reminding themselves in the background that it's not confinement it's affection, but it's a smile. They can do this contact thing, absolutely.

They pause, then tilt their head a little down at her, because hey, they do in fact have an idea for her to repay them with, even if it'll help her, too. "Maybe you can let me borrow your music player. And I can record everything on that, too." And keep a copy for themselves, of course. They wouldn't have asked, before, when she had no other music to occupy herself. But now she does.

"You did, and this is amazing, I wouldn't ever have expected--" A laugh, borderline giddy, and he is released in favor of a more comfortable upward stare. A beam.

"Of course! Absolutely! Here, one minute--" Spinning on her heel, she moves immediately to fetch him precisely that. The most important currency has been exchanged, and she trusts him to keep it safe. This is less hesitation than she would ever have expected even a temporary relinquishment, a few months prior.

"And now you definitely have to stay for lunch."

Since they were going to anyway, and hopefully help with it, that's no hardship. Tension goes out immediately when she lets go, (Such a shitty reaction to hugging. Still did okay, buddy. You'll get better at it. Thanks, Sergeant.) "I will," they say, accepting her discman and considering the headphones, the likelihood of getting good copies of her music through them. Any quality is better than losing the music to lack of power, though. Maybe they can get Crowley to help with a silence bubble. (Misty's gonna hate that, heh.)

They look up again, with a better smile this time. "I'll be here as long as you want me to be."

A more companionable little nudge, this time, acknowledging both statements with as much silent warmth as she can without another stiff hug.

"You're better company than you give yourself credit for, I figure. I won't know what to get you yet, but for the record, no shortage of sentiment. You're special, and I'm glad I know you."

Oh. Geez. The Soldier ducks their head, embarrassed. Compliments are still weird. "I don't need anything. Sentiment is plenty. It's a nice sentiment." Even if they're absolutely blushing now, half-hidden by their hair. When has anyone ever called them "special"? Never, that's when. Not without it being sarcastic, anyway.

Like 90% sure Misty was not being sarcastic, there. So weird.

"Still." He's brilliant and good and deserves reminders, now and then, beyond the standard fussing and fretting. Rough as he's had it, probably even extra. But she can respect staggering it out. Limits. "You're one of the best people I've ever met, and that shouldn't go totally unspoken."

Alright, fair limit hit. Settle into something usual.

"You wanna chop peppers or watch the meat?"

Jesus, Misty. The compliment bomb has them wanting to fidget, and they don't fidget. Then again, HYDRA didn't exactly shower them with praise, either, so it wasn't a situation they had to really get used to.

"Peppers," the say after a pause. It's something they're less likely to mess up due to lack of knowledge, it's more tactile and thus distracting, and deftly cutting something up after that will feel good.

EVENT LOG: FEAST OF LIGHTS

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