Christmas. Or Not.
Who: Damien Wayne and Blaine Anderson
What: Christmas Eve in Aternaville
Where: The Anderson cabinWhen: Christmas Eve, just after dinner
Why: Erica refuses to miss another holiday in AV. XD
Standing outside of the Anderson cabin and watching his breath cloud, Damien wondered for the millionth time why he was bothering. Holidays, for all they were really worth were a time for family, relations, and all the other sentimental masochism that Grayson usually dove into with the enthusiasm of a five year old. Here, however, Damien had no family, no reason to torture himself with insipid formalities...and yet there he was.
An expensively labeled department store bag hung clasped in one hand as another knocked on the door. From the sound of things dinner was just concluding. A woman laughed happily and somewhere under the soft babble, someone was humming carols.
When the door opened, it was Blaine's mother who answered, still laughing a little.
"I have come to repay your generosity earlier this year--"
"Oh, look who's here!" The woman exclaimed in happy surprise. "And here I was just saying this will be the our first Christmas to ourselves. Come in, we were just making hot chocolate. Blaine, get another mug out, Damien's here."
"But I'm not--" The woman steered him into the house, doing that uncanny thing all mothers seemed to be able to do, pulling Damien's hat and scarf off and unzipping his coat all in what seemed a single fluid motion. Even Damien, a trained assassin who knew a thousand ways to kill a human being hadn't yet discerned how it was done. "Thank you." He said, bewilderingly finding himself sitting on the same couch he'd slept on months ago.
What: Christmas Eve in Aternaville
Where: The Anderson cabinWhen: Christmas Eve, just after dinner
Why: Erica refuses to miss another holiday in AV. XD
Standing outside of the Anderson cabin and watching his breath cloud, Damien wondered for the millionth time why he was bothering. Holidays, for all they were really worth were a time for family, relations, and all the other sentimental masochism that Grayson usually dove into with the enthusiasm of a five year old. Here, however, Damien had no family, no reason to torture himself with insipid formalities...and yet there he was.
An expensively labeled department store bag hung clasped in one hand as another knocked on the door. From the sound of things dinner was just concluding. A woman laughed happily and somewhere under the soft babble, someone was humming carols.
When the door opened, it was Blaine's mother who answered, still laughing a little.
"I have come to repay your generosity earlier this year--"
"Oh, look who's here!" The woman exclaimed in happy surprise. "And here I was just saying this will be the our first Christmas to ourselves. Come in, we were just making hot chocolate. Blaine, get another mug out, Damien's here."
"But I'm not--" The woman steered him into the house, doing that uncanny thing all mothers seemed to be able to do, pulling Damien's hat and scarf off and unzipping his coat all in what seemed a single fluid motion. Even Damien, a trained assassin who knew a thousand ways to kill a human being hadn't yet discerned how it was done. "Thank you." He said, bewilderingly finding himself sitting on the same couch he'd slept on months ago.