[Christmas. Not Gyftmas, no, because humans do not deserve the traditions of monsters. Christmas, the day of glittering lights and ornaments and pine needles. The smell of hot wax and a thumb held to a candle flame. Oven heat and the thickness of pillows and a veritable bullet-point list of associations that they scratch to ribbons the instant they occur to them.
The day itself is utterly irrelevant.
They eye the Dagger with flat eyes. A trick. A trap. It must be.]
You would give this over to a murderer? Not terribly responsible of you, is it?
no subject
The day itself is utterly irrelevant.
They eye the Dagger with flat eyes. A trick. A trap. It must be.]
You would give this over to a murderer? Not terribly responsible of you, is it?