Chapter 3 - The Second of the Three Spirits


The ouija board sat before Kallystine. Nothing else. It didn't move, and, despite the legends and stories she'd heard about its power, it didn't seem sinister at all. It just...sat there. An early Christmas gift from a slave she had freed, the flat square of wood with carved designs and painted letters looked like it could be any other board game. Still, far be it from her to look down on something for its appearance. Tendrils of black magic rippled across her body as she laughed, remembering the first time she'd glimpsed herself in a mirror after the Change. The tendrils wormed their way over her figure, binding tattered skin and torn flesh until she looked much as she had before the transformation.

Both hands rested lightly on the indicator, and she closed her eyes, smirking slightly as she imagined the kind of ghost she'd like to summon. As she smiled, unseeing, the dark magic rippled down her hands and into the waiting wood.

"I want someone evil. Someone cruel. Send me someone I can really talk to."

Slowly, the board was infused with black magic, and when she began the "seance," her call to the world of the dead was strengthened by the resonating evil in her thoughts and the pervading power in the dark board.

A stream of rotted ichor spattered across both of her hands and across most of the board, ejected from the seeping cloud of purest black roiling ever larger into existance above that tool. Small inverse lightning streaked across the boiling mist's surface, bright crimson light thrown from the edges that sunk into darkness at the center. That cloud took shape, bubbling mists coalescing into fluttering robes of deepest rusty blood color, settling into a massive figure framed in weak hellfire luminescence. Time wore not in that heavy jawed face, waving ember hued locks reminiscent of nothing more than a crackling fire, matched in heat from the sickly emerald pallor gleaming from his eyes.

Hovering approximately a foot from over the board, that searing verdant gaze, transparent though it was, pierced into the woman beneath. A hint of a voice, more felt at the edge of consciousness than actually heard, rumbled forth.

"Why summon me, Sonder D'Defendu, when you already have a spirit guide near?"

She blinked in annoyance as a green mess spattered over her hands, one sable brow arching over a perfect green gem to appraise the shade before her. Then the other brow shot up to join the first as the spirit spoke. In pure astonishment, she replied.

"Spirit guide? The only spirit I've summoned here tonight is you, Sonder D'Defendu. I asked for evil and cruelty, a kindred spirit, and I only summoned one." She sighed and a soft cloth appeared in one hand. With disgust, she began wiping the goo from her delicate hands. "And if you managed to bring a friend, tell him or her to watch where they aim their entrance display please."

A thin stretching of ectoplasmic skin marked his own brow raising, emerald wandering past the caller to something beyond.... another ghost, hurrying past in ponderous haste. Ignoring that comment of naturally occuring goo (she *did* call him, and got all that went with it) spirit steps strode past the sitting figure. An immaculately polished boot kicked through her shoulder as he went in a flash of scarlet, twisting back through that path
not a moment later. This time, within a meatslab hand writhed another, thinner - and a lot less menacing - ghost.

"This is not yours?" A small shake was given to emphasize the object of the inquiry, causing it to drop the little index cards it'd been so rapidly studying to flutter to the ouiji board.

The second ghost was a small, puckish creature dressed in red and green. Pointed ears, much like an elf's, poked through the transparent tawny hair that peeked beneath the green knit cap, and the unmistakeable gleam of terror shone in his once merry eyes.

She looked to Sonder and simply laughed. "No. He is not mine. Such a cute little ghost though." She paused as she eyed the tiny slips of paper littering the floor. One minute and a flurry of crimson silk later, the cards were sorted and stacked neatly in the pale hand of Kallystine. Green gems glowed brilliant emerald with laughter as she read their contents aloud.

"Appear at exactly two o'clock..."

"Introduce yourself to her as the Ghost of Christmas Present...."

"Tell her that if she does not change her evil ways, she will...."

Here she paused and looked up to the ghosts with confusion coloring her angelic gaze.

"Who is 'she?'... And what is this drivel?"

She began flipping through the cards, throwing them over her shoulder as she read.

"All of them have to do with slaves on Christmas day..."

One, two, three over the shoulder.

"...these are all punishments..."

Four, five, six, seven went flying to the floor.

"...these are all about unwilling pleasure slaves..."

Eight, nine, ten were launched into the air by careless hands as the Christmas Ghost watched helplessly.

"Those are all supposedly unjust and cruel tortures..."

Twelve, thirteen, and fourteen were set ablaze with a touch and flutter to the floor like wounded doves.

"Rape, murder, torture..."

And with each description, a few more were tossed away. With the seventeenth card, presumably the worst, a wry smile lit up her face and she tucked that one away for reference. A sweet-as-a-cupcake grin was offered to the tiny ghost.

"Thanks, I would never have thought of that one myself."

The smile was then turned to Sonder's spirit as she held the last card aloft, triumphant evil flowing from her soul like water through a cracked dam. "It seems our little ghostie friend here is hell-bent on changing our dear Blood Red Rose into a..." reading directly from the card "...sweet and kind woman who knows her place in society."

"I don't think we can allow that. What do you say?"

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When the bell struck two, Rose awoke immediately, fully expecting that her next unearthly conference was about to take place. Her emerald eyes were rubbed quickly clear of the intoxicating effects of sleep, and she sat straight up, adjusting the tight-fitting second skin of her latex suit and setting up a watch at the perimeter of the bed. Grabbing a riding crop from the nearby nightstand, she laid it across her lap, convincing herself that she was ready for virtually anything the next spectre had to offer.

She waited as the clock's pendulous ticking marked off five minutes, ten, then a quarter of an hour, and when nothing happened, she began to grow suspicious. The circumstance was more a relief than a surprise, and with a shrug, she lay back down, settling her head on the soil-filled cushions and curling the crop into her embrace like a teddy bear.

It was at that moment, when her head was turned to the side, and she was preparing to lower the awnings of her sable lashes once more, that she spied the eerie crimson glow seeping past the hinges and crevices around the door to Traevyn's old room.

Like a mortar shell from a cannon, she was up, snapping the crop alongside her thigh with a menacing crack, and turning the knob aside, to fling the door wide.

It was Traevyn's childhood room, no doubt - the black-draped bassinet still stood like a fond relic in one corner, a few of his toys were still scattered across the bed, and on a nearby nightstand sat the pewter box that had once held his long-dead pet salamander.

But that was all she could make out, as the rest of the chamber was blighted like a blood tide backlit with dozens of hallogen lamps... imagine staring directly into the glare of the sun, or the portentous blinding light of KC light bar on a dusty rural back road...

"Come in, come in," bade a strangely familiar voice, sounding almost comically like a young girl trying to effect an old man's rich timbre. Lifting a gloved hand to shield her eyes, Rose complied, angling forward and craning her neck to discern the outlines of a robed figure that hovered just at the back of the chamber, where the door into the Catacombs had once been carved.

"I am the Ghost of Christmas Present," intoned the spirit. "Look upon me!"

"Well, now, how am I supposed to do that??" Rose snipped, fluttering her fingertips to the side, but the ghost continued on, as though its words were the product of a recorded message, without the ability to pause and explain itself.

"You have never..." the spirit's voice resounded, then tapered off as though in hesitation, and Rose's keen ears picked up a brief shuffling sound that might have been the sifting of playing cards, but just as quickly, that booming voice resumed. "...never seen the like of me before!"

"And likely never will again, given the fact that I can't see you at all..." Rose muttered, with a resigned sigh, dropping her hand to her waist and lifting her eyes heavenward.

The irregular lines of the spirit rose higher in the air, causing the iridescent halo surrounding it to shift, and, caught unawares by the sudden movement, Rose's vision was suddenly dappled with phantom flash-bulb spots.

"Come with me and learn the lessons of the season... Touch my robe!" demanded the Ghost.

"Uhm, yeah... sure... okay." Rose heaved another bored sigh and fumbled forward through her momentary blindness, dropping the crop to the floor to weave gloved fingertips through the folds of aged fabric.

She held fast, but not quite fast enough, apparently, as, when the scene changed, and all the brilliance and warmth funneled out of the room, she dropped with a rather unladylike lack of grace, right on her rump, in the middle of a snow-covered market street, sending up an artificial snow flurry all around her.

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Nokturnulz' black boots crushed deeply into the thick, pure snow as he made his way down the streets of Rhydin. A low mutter under his breath could be heard by the passer-byers, who seemed to keep a slight distance from the grubby figure moving past them. His cold, white hands dug into the pockets of his trenchcoat, and the sharp claws scratched softly against the fabric as he made his way past store after store of useless trinkets and knicknacks.

He turned a corner quickly and stumbled into a couple walking the opposite way. The man and woman were broken up, causing the man to go into a sudden, but pitiful fury.

"Why, I never....," he blurted in a haughty voice, but was soon cut off by his "other". "Now, now, Dear.....tis the season, and all that."

He stopped, turning back to his woman with a forced smile. "Yes, I suppose so....." As the couple left, the dark figure grumbled with little care of the encounter that almost occured, "Tis the season to kiss my a...."

He was suddenly cut off by the sound of a lone bell coming from a young boy standing on the street corner. He was bundled up for the cold weather, but Elven ears could still be seen sticking past his hat as he stood by a large red pot. The boy yammered about saving the poor and giving to needy and a whole load of sharing that caused the demon to stop and look at the boy with a slight smirk.

"Anything to give, Sir. Tis the season for such, you know....."

He gave another sick grin and reached into his inside pocket, watching the boy with false concern. "Oh, I suppose I should give something. Here's something I picked up last night. I hope it finds a good home...," his hollow voice echoed.

He tossed the "present" to the child and stepped away, waiting for the inevitable scream. As it ripped through the stale air, a sly grin spread across his white face and his crimson eyes burned brightly past the strands of oily hair, as if they were a beacons in the black night.

The boy ran off to his mother, leaving the red pot by its lonesome for thieves and bandits to steal off with, but lying in the snow was a small red patch where the blood of the human ear dripped and drained down the street.

((The above was contributed by the mun of Nokturnulz.))

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Slicing through the air of a crisp winter's day, sunlight streamed through the windows of the Solarium like shards of phantom ice, tracing random snowflake patterns on the parquetry.

The busy outlines of furniture and drapery were, indeed, glowing with holiday cheer. Every surface was strewn with pine boughs, with their prickly needles, wreaths of English ivy, and sprays of traditional poinsettia - oh-so-cheerful... and oh-so-likely to cause kidney failure... and let's not forget the sprig of mistletoe over the door (equally notorious for causing cardiac arrest as for kissing)...

As the opening guitar twang of "Jingle Bell Rock" hummed through the vaulted chamber, Foxglove herself bustled out from behind her Oriental screen, all decked out in a satin suit of purest white, made festive with her usual billows of marabou trim.

An urgent rapping sounded at the door, and she whispered across the floor to answer, swinging the heavy oak barrier aside with a flourish. At the sight of a young child, a moppet of no more than four or five, her eyes glimmered with fiendish delight, and her lips curved into a cloying smile.

"Oh, you poor dear," she cooed. The child was clearly in distress, eyes red-rimmed, clothing tattered, cherubic cheeks smeared with grime, and the little girl hugged herself to ward off the cold.

"I been hidin'... in a room... all night...," sobbed the babe. "Mommy 'n Daddy was singin'... 'n now I can't find `em nowhere..."

"You poor, poor thing. Come on in, and let's get you some milk and cookies, and then we'll see if we can't find your Mommy and Daddy..."

At the mention of cookies, the innocent face lost all notion of upset, and Mommy and Daddy were quickly forgotten in the face of this pending treat.

"Cookies?"

"Yes, that's right... cookies..."

The child lost no time in taking the woman's offered hand, and Foxglove led her through the maze of antique furnishings, towards the workbench, where she promptly lifted her, settling the trusting little waif onto a stool.

"Oooh... listen... are those Santa's sleigh bells I hear?"

The little girl clapped and giggled with delight, oblivious to the fact that the distant jingling she heard was actually coming from a cage suspended far overhead, as a gagged slave struggled against her shackles, desperate to get the child's attention, to warn her.

~ Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock ~ Jingle bells chime in jingle bell time ~ Dancin' and prancin' in jingle bell square ~ In the frosty air ~


Leaning across the bench, Foxglove reached for one of her infamous ginger jars, this one with a broad mouth and a wide bell bottom, just large enough to pass for a cookie jar, under the right circumstances. Wrenching the cork stopper free and setting it aside, she dove in and withdrew a single powdered biscuit, dotted with sprinkles that might have been flakes of some herb or bits of succulent berries - but to the child's eager eyes, they were the sweetest confection, and her greedy little hands made a grab for the "cookie" without even questioning.

"Ah, ah," teased Foxglove, snapping the biscuit out of the child's way. "Not without some milk to wash it down." And with a patronizing, maternal smile, she set the cookie out of the girl's reach, on an upper shelf, reaching instead for a pewter pitcher, and a simple clay mug.

The nectar that poured from one vessel to the other was thick and sluggish. It oozed more than poured, in fact, and had the consistency, perhaps, of buttermilk, maybe a white sap, but certainly was not milk. But again, the child, desperate for any kind of comfort and warmth, bought right into it, and when Foxglove finally handed over the mug and cookie, she took both with eager hands, and began munching away, her face becoming alternately littered with powdery crumbs and a milk mustache.

~ Geddy up jingle horse pick up your feet ~ Jingle around the clock ~ Mix and a mingle in jinglin' beat ~ That's the jingle bell rock.~


Ilex aquifolium, common English holly, bears vibrant red berries, and it was those very berries which were baked into the cookie Foxglove had produced from the ginger jar. As the little girl gobbled away, Foxglove watched in breathless anticipation, waiting for the moment when the active glycoside, ilicin, would destroy that innocent smile forever...

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Schönen's room, too, could have been said to glow with holiday cheer - a brazier just to the side of her huge, cushioned pallet lit the chamber with a devilish warmth, and the occasional spark popped up from the grill, sending the burnt orange and yellow shadows on the walls spinning into a mad tarantella.

Leaning on the windowsill, just on the fringes of the warm firelight, Schönen herself was typically somber, perhaps contemplating the joys of the season, perhaps just contemplating all the scattered, muddy footprints, from the carolers' melee of the previous evening. Whatever it was, a hint of a smile kissed her china doll features, proof that at least *someone* in the estate was enjoying Christmas.

Suddenly, a dazed, muffled grunt issued from the far corner of the room, causing Schönen to turn away from her study of the courtyard, and her smile to brighten considerably.

"You're awake... at last..."

Pinioned to the wall, his wrists and ankles bound by rough-hewn leather straps stained with sweat and gore, was the angel of a slave boy, the golden-haired rebel who had suffered his first branding at her hands weeks earlier. Shortly thereafter, his gentleman owner had gone unaccountably missing, and the boy had turned up here.

Lifting cultured hands from her lap, she stood, sauntering across the room at an easy gait. Her leather jacket hung loose, open over a red silk chemise, and the jagged lines of her own brand peeked from above its collar. As she crossed, a shrug pushed the jacket from her shoulders, and she tossed it aside, to a crumpled heap of leather on the bed.

The slave boy, crucified against the unforgiving cold of the stone wall, lifted his head but briefly, his gaze never daring to rise past his Mistress' feet. His golden curls were pressed into conformity by the band of white cotton that swathed his head, and his cheeks were flushed, both with the warmth from the fire, and the warmth of his own fever.

You see, he was bare from the waist up, clad only in a swatch of butter-soft suede below that, and across his belly rose the fragmented first half of a snowflake design, burned into the skin. Some of the lines had already begun to scab over, but most were still raw, angry blisters.

Taking a moment to study the newly roused boy, Schönen turned towards the brazier, lacing one hand through the handles of a pair of tongs. Lifting them out of the coals, she sauntered over to her plaything, and her free hand rose to trace lightly over the pattern of thorns scorched into his neck, before traveling upward, to dislodge the gag.

"Are you ready for more?" she whispered, cupping slender fingertips around the bottom of his jaw.

He never once lifted his gaze, but afer a deep, gulping breath, he nodded, almost eagerly. One might almost believe that he was anxious, that he relished the firm hand she took with him, and the way she used his body as her own living canvas.

"Very well, then...," came her smooth, sultry tones, and she reached behind her, glancing over her shoulder as the ends of the tongs clamped around a spidery-thin curl of metal, red-hot from its long rest on the brazier grill.

As she lifted the piece of steel into view, its glow was reflected in the amber of her eyes, dual rivers, like electric copper, dancing across those lenses. In the succulent pause, she lowered her mouth to just inches from his, and caressed his lips with a whisper...

"You're a very good boy..."

With a crackling sizzle, the metal landed on his belly, into his skin like a hot knife through butter, and while the first few seconds of his scream rang clear and true, the sound was cut off sharply, muffled into a gurgle, as she crushed her lips over his, swallowing down his expression of agony... and as the acrid odor of charred epidermis rose into the air, a tiny trickle of blood oozed down the side of his chin, and the slave boy's features melted into a look of heated ecstasy...

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In the forest surrounding the estate, one tree stood out from all the rest, not in the sense that it was any taller, or more green, or had any more foliage than all the others, but it housed a k'Eldan girl, the last of her race, and a renegade slave to Blood Red Rose, who preferred to keep her company with the forest, rather than in the estate, even when the first snowfall of the season was coming down, frosting the trees with a delicate layer of crystalline white.

As Prith sat huddled in the branches of the tree, the vine's downy leaves curled around her, she watched the first snowflakes drift lazily to earth. The plant trilled softly in her ear, sensing her amazement at the snow.

"Bonzai!!!!!" To any casual observer it would appear as if several of the snowflakes were exploding in mid-air, but to Prith it was very obvious that the flakes were scattering when a tiny oni hurled himself through a veil of delicate icicles.

She smiled, a squirrel-like bark shaking her body with peculiar laughter, as Chibi shook himself loose of several tiny white snow-particles, slapping at the cold, stiff leather of his jacket.

"Whew!! Another winter invasion stopped by the 'Oni Ace of the Skies'!"

As Prith stretched out a finger to catch the flakes, only to have them instantly melt away, she looked up at the still-falling snow. "I think they've brought reinforcements."

Chibi smiled and alighted on her shoulder. "They always do.. the cowards."

"It's pretty, but cold," she whispered, shivering slightly within the inadequate warmth of the leaves. "I'm not very well adapted for this, I think."

"Oh.. I'm sorry..." With a blink, Chibi floated from her shoulder, landing lightly on the frost covered branch, assuming his full, if still a bit diminutive, height, and swung his jacket from his shoulders, gently fitting it around her and leaving him bare to the world from the waist up.

"Won't you be cold?"

"Naw.. I got my own heater.." Patting his own flat stomach with one gloved hand, he puffed a few smoke rings, and Prith reached out to warm her hands in the smoke. 'Sides.. Onis are made of tough stuff."

"I know," Prith concurred, with a gentle smile.

Chibi chuckled and put her hands on his shoulders, letting the heat travel from his smooth skin, through her fingertips, and sat in a nice Indian-style position directly in front of her. "Chibi... the hot-water bottle."

As Prith clicked softly from the corner of her mouth, Chibi smiled, chuckling as always at the sound of her laugh. "Not used to snow Prith?"

"Snow only fell on the poles, remember?" she replied, shaking her head.

"Oh yes...," he continued, scratching his head. "It must be pretty odd then.. Snow always falls 'round this time of year.."

"I've never seen it before, only heard stories... The plants seem to need to sleep. Everything deserves a rest now and then."

"Yeah.." Smiling, he gently patted the branch beneath him. "They'll be back though.. them or their children in some cases." Looking out over the gray, cold landscape, he sighed, "Winter... a symbol of death in a lot of ways..."

"Even the sun seems to sleep more." She smiled a teasing smile, knowing full well about planetary motions.

"Of course.. there are some nice things assosciated with winter."

"Snow is nice."

"Oh yeah.. SnowOni's, Snowball fights, Ice-skating..."

Prith just looked at him blankly.

"Umm.. er.. Skiing?... Ice-fishing?"

"You fish for ice?"

"No.. you fish *through* ice."

"Oh. I see."

Chibi just blinked. "Man.. never made a snowoni?" Looking around, he suddenly wished there were enough snow to show her how.

"You build it like the snow was clay?"

"Well yes.. you pack it into three nice large balls of snow..one small to make the head."

As he explained the procedure, she scooted a little closer to him for the radiant heat his body gave off, like a small fireplace.

"Doesn't it melt in your hands?"

"Oh no.. it's too cold. It kinda holds itself together when in large masses. Well.. you put the balls on top of each other, you use rocks for eyes and to make a mouth, icicles for fangs and the horns, and a carrot nose."

"How big are they?"

"Oh.. usually about 5 feet I think. Bigger or smaller depending on what you want. I like to make little tiny ones," he said, with a smile.

"What else do you like about winter?"

Chibi tapped his chin in thought. "The quiet is nice.. kinda eerie though.. and the locals often get very happy about their Christmas."

"I've heard people in the inn talking about Christmas."

"Yeah they love it.. puts 'em in a good mood."

"Some of them do. Others seem to hate it. I don't even know what it is. But it seems to inspire strong feelings here."

"It's a holiday humans have.."

"Do you think it will put Rose in a good mood?"

Chibi was quiet for a long moment, as he thought back to his father's human lessons. "I dunno... Does she like dressing up in pretty robes and throwing coins at the local shrine?"

"Robes? That doesn't sound like Rose."

He frowned and narrowed his eyes in thought. "Wait.. that's New Year's.."

"And I think she's more apt to throw knives than coins."

"Christmas... Christmas.."

"I understand that Christmas is a festival, but I don't know what they're celebrating."

"I think... Christmas.. is where they all gather around and worship Satan... Or.. some big powerful guy in red with lots of little worshipers.."

"Sounds like someone Rose would like."

"Yes.. he has.. a strong laugh and..." Chibi paused, lost in thought again. "Well.. I'm not sure.. They do weird things.. like paint eggs and hang them on trees, then Satan comes and hides them in everyone's socks.. Yes, I think thats about right," he finished, with a decisive nod.

Prith thought this over for a moment. "Does this god have claws?"

"Oh yes.. big Satan Claws," said Chibi, nodding energetically. "You've heard of him too?"

"I remember someone talking about Satan's claws," she replied, with a nod.

"But.. there's parts.. about Christmas.. where people are nice to each other.."

Prith frowned thoughtfully. "I thought they said Satin claws, but the inn was noisy..."

"Like.. they give presents...and," with a broadening smile, "my favorite part.. They kiss under a plant." With that, he winked, and his grin widened even more. "It's this little green plant with white berries.. it grows on other things."

Prith cast her eye on the branches overhead, infected with mistletoe, looking at it with a touch of chagrin. "It's a greedy little plant."

"Oh.. it's a weed?"

"It lives off the tree, and if I didn't constantly reason with it, I think it would take over every branch."


"Hmm..." Following her gaze, Chibi looked up at the plants clinging to the branches above them. "Gee Prith.. should we uphold tradition?" He smiled as though nothing would make him happier.

"It's Christmas," she offered, returning his smile.

Turning, he placed his hands on her shoulders in an imitation of her own, then tugged her to him, and leaning forward, he pushed his lips gently against hers and held the kiss for a very long time, allowing his bare arms to slide around her, his skin whispering along his own jacket.

Prith closed her eye, delighting in the warmth and tender contact, a rarity in her bleak world. "I think I could like Christmas..."

He smiled, and tugged her closer to him, pushing her against his chest, letting his body warm her. "I know it's growing on me... must be the mistletoe syndrome," he whispered, as she snuggled comfortably in his warm embrace, and he dropped his chin to rest on her shoulder. "Not such a bad season after all.. although.. it kinda matches Rose..," he commented, looking out over the bleak world, "cold, harsh, and oddly beautiful..."

The vine's maroon flowers trilled happily, the leaves suddenly fluttering to shake off accumulating snow, sending a small flurry down on the pair, and Chibi laughed happily as he felt them both get powdered, his arms hugging her tight.

With a contemplative frown, Prith murmured, "I don't think Rose can help how she is. It must be awful for her to never see the sun."

"Hmm..I don't know if the lack of sun alone makes anyone that cold." He turned his head to the left to kiss the snowflakes from her cheeks.

"Who does she have to warm her?"

"I don't know.. she could try warming her self.. a sunny disposition to warm her from the inside out.." He sighed sadly and leaned back to look at her face. "You know... I wish Rose were nice.. Then you could have the one Christmas present I would like to give you.. Your freedom."

Prith just looked at him in silence, then, and he sighed, shaking his head. "Ah well..."

"Let's just hope she doesn't decide to celebrate the day with another hunt."

Chibi shivered at that, and certainly not from the cold. "Yes indeed..." He held her tightly, protectively, knowing full well he was likely to be no real protection at all should the hunt occur.

A sudden thought occurred to Prith, about Satan and his worshippers. "Is that why some in town kill trees to put in their houses?"

"I guess.. they need them to put their eggs on them I guess.. maybe it's.. hanging the failed potential for birth on the carcasses of the dead.. I'm not sure why he hides them in socks."

"Do you think it's a sacrifice from those who want children?"

"Hmm.. could be.. humans are so weird.."

Prith nodded in agreement with his assessment of humans. "Maybe the socks represent a womb? And putting the eggs in them is a symbol of granting their plea?"

Chibi shivered again. "Or maybe its a symbol of the haters of birth trampling it beneath their feet.."

"Oh."

"I wouldn't know.. I have little clue on the workings of human minds.."

"Wouldn't he hide them in boots or shoes then?"

"Aaah! Good point! He must hide them so if they find them without crushing them he grants their request for a child... I don't even wanna think about the chestnuts roasting on an open fire..."

"Why not? Chestnuts are good to eat."

"Yeah.. but what do THEY symbolize?"

"Food, Chibi. Nuts, and some mashed cattail roots, and watercress, and berries... a feast fit for Satan!" she declared, smiling, though she felt hungry just thinking about it.

"Well I must disagree with his choice in foods..," he replied, with a blink.

"That's *my* choice in foods."

"I would prefer.. turkey, roast goose, meat pie.. something like that

Prith suddenly shuddered, imagining gooses roasting on an open fire, and Chibi chuckled and curled her in a hug. "I'm sorry Prith.. I know the thought is bad for you.."

"That's ok. You can't help being a carnivore."

Chibi smiled at that, and clicked his mouth. "These fangs aren't for nothing."

"I know...," Prith replied, with a sly smile.

As he chuckled and bit down gently on her shoulder, she sighed and rested her head against him, and so he continued, biting her neck softly, hugging her tightly, letting up only to kiss the ridge of her ear.

Suddenly, Prith's eye flew open in alarm. "Eggnog!" She pushed off from him, to arm's length, staring at him in horror.

"Wha.. wah..?"

"They drink the dead! Symbolically, but, still...."

All three of his eyes blinked weakly, fluttering as his thoughts shifted slowly through his mind, his male brain switching from primary mode to secondary thought mode. "Hmm.. yah.. you have a point.."

"Well, mistletoe is still a nice part of Christmas."

"My favorite so far..," he said with a smile.

"Even if the rest is rather gruesome."

"No wonder they worship it as well.. a poisonous weed.. fits right in with the rest... Still.. its mode of worship is very enjoyable..."

"And they initiate mating, in case their sacrifices are honored by Satan Claws."

"Aahhh.. I believe I understand..," he said with a nod. "Humans are so weird.."

"Do you imagine they sacrifice the babies after they're born?"

"My goodness.." He blinked in surprise. "It would explain how they do it every year though."

"I'm sorry I upset you."

Chibi sighed happily and relaxed against her. "I'm not at all upset.. My mind has problems with rapid changes though.."

"I'll try to remember... Maybe by Christmas there will be enough snow to make a snowoni... When is Christmas, anyway?"

Chibi scratched his head. "I'm..not sure.."

"If you'd like some nuts, I know where we can find some. You can roast them."

"Isn't it a little late?"

"Late? You were the one who mentioned nuts."

"Hmm.. You're right.." As he rubbed his tummy, she leaned forward to kiss him on the nose.

With that, Chibi began to shrink down to a nice, easily managable size, sliding himself into the front of her jacket, and zipping himself in, his own heat warming her from the front out. "Lead on Prith.. I could use a good snack."

With her one good eye, she chanced a glance down at her cleavage, chuckling at his choice of lookout stations.

"It's warm and cozy in here.. I think I'll let you keep the jacket... Err.. through the winter anyway."

Prith began to swing carefully down through the branches, managing better now that she had begun to get used to her lack of depth perception, then dropped to the snowy ground and set off in the direction of a stand of chestnut trees she had seen. Chibi, meanwhile, found himself enjoying his perch more and more as she swung through the trees and bounded along the ground.

"I could get used to this.."

((Note: The above was contributed by the muns of Prith kDar and ChibiOni.))

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