eachdraidh | Video - Seelie/Unseelie (Memory)

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Video - Seelie/Unseelie (Memory)

[If Stiles had been asked which memory he would have thought would have been forcibly pulled from his brain and broadcast to the entire Drabwurld, he never would have thought it would have been the one chosen by the star. With how his life had been lately, he would have expected something along the lines of screaming and death and pain and blood. Hurt. He'd expected to hurt.

He did, but in a different sort of way.]

[The boy that came running down the stairs had to have been about six or seven, dark hair tufted and sticking up, pajamas emblazoned with iconic little Batman symbols as bare feet padded over carpeted floors, down a set of stairs and over to the large Christmas tree set up in the corner. There was no snow outside (duh, California), but there was fake snow sprayed all over the windows, snowflake decals added to give it a winter feel. There was a gasp, little hands moving up to cover a mouth open in an 'o' of surprised glee at the presents piled up under the tree. The boy went over, pulling one out and shaking it, then looking up the stairs with a sort of thoughtful look. Maybe he could open just one before...]

Put that down, Stiles. Let us at least get a little coffee in us first?

[His dad came down the stairs, flannel pj pants and a tshirt half covered by a robe. He was yawning and scratching at his belly as he shuffled towards the kitchen. A woman followed after, looking just as sleepy but giving him a fond smile as she came over, her robe closed as she went to sit on the couch.]

Oh, let him open just one. It'll help him take the edge off, right, baby?

[The woman smiled at the boy and the boy jumped up, coming over to throw small arms around her neck and give her an enthusiastic kiss. The woman laughed and ruffled his hair, pushing him back over to the tree.]

Go on, then. One to tide you over until your old, grumpy parents get some caffeine in them.

[His dad sighed and looked over at her, but he clearly wasn't actually all that put out.]

You know you spoil him.

He's a baby. He's supposed to be spoiled.

I am not. I'm almost seven. That's practically all grown up.

See, mom? Practically a man already.

[The man laughed and set up the coffee maker before coming over and sitting heavily in a chair.]

Well, go on, then. It's two against one. Majority rules.

[The boy grinned, coming over and giving his dad a thankful hug before he went over to the tree, picking out one of the medium packages because he wanted to build up anticipation for that big one in the corner.

There were flickers of how that morning continued; paper everywhere, ribbons tied in hair both long and short, happy smiles as socks were oohed and ahhed over, gifts made by small hands fussed over and elated squeals of glee over the large box, which turned out to be a Star Wars compilation present with Lego sets and a pair of light sabers that would be used the next day with Scott. They'd both be broken in four months. The image flickered and faded with the three of them on the couch, the boy sitting on the woman's lap, playing with a strand of hair as the man sat beside them, showing them something in a book he'd gotten from his wife.]

IN THE MORNING
[With eyes a little red, he addressed the network.]

So... guess there's nothing we can do to stop that, huh?

[What he really wanted to ask is if there was a way to save it.]

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Well, no. They're cut down in the forest and brought in for the holiday.

What a waste!

In hindsight, yeah, definitely.

[Especially when clearcutting and all that was taken into consideration, something he didn't plan on bringing up when he saw the look on her face.]

But it's a holiday thing and we do it anyway. Some Christmas trees are fake, though. I'm pretty sure most people get the fake ones, or else they go and get ones grown specifically for Christmas that don't need to be cut down.

[Even if they got thrown out after. God, his world was so wasteful.]

[ she wants to leech of his nostalgia. she wants to take vicarious comfort in his old memories, mingling them with her own craving for easier days. happier months. a whole family! so she leans in nearer the locket and picks for details: ] When you were seven, was yours...fake? Or real?

[ not that she entirely understands the concept of a fake tree. but at least she understands the concept of fake itself. ]

If it's the same one we have in the garage, then yeah, pretty sure it was.

[His dad had never had the time to go tree hunting and he couldn't be bothered himself when he got older. It was just easier to haul the old one out and throw decorations on it than to go through the process of picking a tree.

Besides, the McCalls were the ones with the real tree and they could go over there for that pine fresh scent.]

[ the more she dwells on the thought -- the more she considers it -- sansa chooses to interpret this festival and these trees as one thing her northern family might have in common with stiles's strange otherworldly existence. it isn't a point she can share with him, just as she cannot tell him about her own mother. or even her own father. but she can nurture it in her thoughts like a little seedling. a tree of friendships to come. ]

I confess it's rather pretty. Twinkling and glittering.

It looks the best at night. With all the lights off and just the ones on the tree on and the way it makes the tinsel change color...

[Yeah, someone was suddenly feeling nostalgic.]

[ tinsel. logic dictates that the tinsel must indeed be the pretty sheening wreaths 'round the prickled branches. and so sansa finds she does not have to ask. she guesses, instead. ]

Christmas. [ she remembers the word. she tastes it on her tongue and imagines it like candied oranges. ] When is it celebrated? You ought to find a good tree and make it just as pretty. Here in the castle. I would like to see it.

In December. Ah, winter. I think Yule was about the winter solstice, so we just sort of tacked Christmas on top of that and ta-da, trees and food. God... the food. I miss the food. Christmas dinner was the best dinner of the year.

[He thought about that, formed a small idea in his head and nodded.]

I could.

[ the best dinner. in winter. she finds it difficult to believe -- given how low the stores become in those cold years. ]

I can't say I've ever met anyone who feasts for winter. [ she cocks her head at the locket like some sort of curious historian studying a strange artefact. ]

I'm not really sure of the storage tactics of my older ancestors, but most of us nowadays just go to the grocery store and buy a turkey. Or a ham. Or both. God... so much food...

...And lemon cakes?

[ she sounds straight-up hopeful. alayne, she supposes, should not be so invested in the treat. but it once again slips through unheeded. ]

Lemon cakes? Um, I don't know. They could be. Desserts are really up to the preferences of each family. I guess you could have lemon cakes.

[Note to self: Someone likes lemon cakes.]

Winter brings a kind of...scarcity to lemons in my lands. How decadent it must be to have just the possibility of those cakes in the dead of ice and snow.

We have hot houses and climate controlled environments for growing things out of season. We got sort of greedy and decided we wanted what we wanted when we wanted it, not when it was supposed to grow.

[ oh, she would tell him about the glass houses in winterfell if she could. she would explain the pretty hothouse flowers that grew there. but she cannot. will not. would not. ]

It does not sound so greedy. It sounds...comfortable. Is it greedy to be comfortable, Stiles?

No, not really. But considering the amount of waste 'civilized' society puts out and how many homeless and hungry people there are in the modern world? Yeah, it can be a bit greedy.

How is it that a person could not have a home?

[ tragic a life as she's lived, she is still undeniably of an upper echelon. true poverty, to her, is merely a more modest house. a less lavish meal. not even gendry has managed to reverse this assumption. ]

Rent is expensive. A lot of people are losing their jobs and can't pay for rent so... adios casa.

[Stiles... Sansa doesn't speak Spanish.]

Um, goodbye home. It's not really all that great and it's one of those things I'd say our world really needs to work on.

[ she thinks upon the homes she's occupied: castles, all of them, barring the inns of the road and the recent stays beneath stars. ]

What do they do in winter? [ ah. that word again. winter. her thoughts swirl around it, snowflake-like in its dizzying attraction to the cold. ]

There's shelters put up, but there's usually not enough for the amount of people that are homeless. Some freeze and lose body parts. Some die. It's not pretty and I think it's kind of one of the really bad aspects of my time. Too many people without and too many greedy people that refuse to give an inch.

[ and too many greedy people that refuse to give an inch. she swallows hard; she thinks upon the riots, the angry people, the shouting, and the threats. a slight shake of her head. ]

Your...home. Stiles. It appeared quite lovely. [ she had thought it plain, truthfully. plain and strangely angular from those memories. but now she feels she ought to compliment it, because it must be good at least that he has one.

that he does not freeze. that he has all his parts. ]

[A small deductive skip has him figuring out why she's complimenting his house and he grins at her.]

My dad has a job. He's a... what, do you guys have sheriffs? Marshals? Uh... Captain of the guard? Yeah, he's a captain of the guard where I come from, so he can sort of afford a house.

[Barely. Civil servants didn't get paid much and mortgage rates were high, but no way was he going to explain all of that to her.]

[ captain of the guard! the son of a guard captain -- well. he remains rungs below sansa (but only in a mind that does not accept the breakdown of her own house), but perhaps pleasantly on par with alayne.

this puts her at an inch more ease. ] You must be very proud of him.

[Considering his dad had always managed to keep his head above water in a town where he hadn't seen the whole picture? Yeah, Stiles was pretty proud.]

I am. He's a really great guy. Good dad, too. Kind of hard not to like him.

[He did more than just put up with Stiles. He loved him. And that was completely reciprocated.]

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