Tis the season...for a lot of boxes? [Presents!]

[turned_to_steel]

WHO: Sansa Stark
WHERE: The Inn
WHEN: December 20th
OPEN TO: Everyone!
WARNINGS: Will update if needed
STATUS: OPEN

Sansa had her jaw clenched and her hands buried deep in her pockets, hurrying towards the Inn as quickly as she could make herself go without running. It was tempting to run but she didn't trust the snow that clung to the ground and the fact that there could possibly be ice patches somewhere underneath. She didn't relish the idea of possibly slipping and hurting herself when she was supposed to be going to the Inn to get her first lesson in cooking breakfast.

So she was more than grateful for the heat she felt when she reached the front door and pushed it open to let herself inside the nice, warm building. Stomping her feet, she shut the door and looked up to see if she could spot Kate anywhere. What she found instead was enough to have her eyes going wide and her lips parting in surprise at the sight of boxes stacked everywhere in the main room. It didn't matter where she looked, there seemed to be a new stack of varying heights and sizes. So many of them that she wasn't even sure she could count them all.

It wasn't like the box she had found on her front step, though. These boxes were wrapped in pretty paper of different colors and designs, and all with a tag sitting on top of each one.

Unbuttoning her jacket, she moved to the closest stack of boxes and took a peek at the first tag that was visible to her. She recognized both names and found herself blinking in confusion while she glanced at the second tag. Had everyone else found a way to get presents to give to someone else and she had missed it? She wondered briefly if maybe it was something that had been planned from before she had arrived but why hadn't her brothers mentioned it to her? It was something she was still puzzling over until she found a tag that was intended for someone else but had her name on it as well.

A quick search at another stack had her finding a present that was intended for her.

Still curious and wanting answers, Sansa set her jacket aside and went back to the first stack of boxes. Plucking the first box off the top, she set it to the side and moved the second box to another area. By the time someone came downstairs or came inside, Sansa was making new piles sorted by the name of who the presents were meant for. She thought it would be easier for people to find their presents rather than everyone stomping around poking through every stack and reading every tag.

[ooc: This is a mingle post for people to find their presents if they are located at the Inn! If you wish to, please feel free to have your character find their stack of presents already sorted.]

Comments

[andrend]

Ren no longer lived at the inn, but he still stopped by it nearly every day. He had returned to the house that morning after a long and frozen night watching the fountain, but he had only lingered long enough to warm himself in the cellar with his usual routine of training with his new 'weapon'. The curtain rod went everywhere with him since he had taken it down off the hooks to find it was a sturdy and solid metal, and he was becoming increasingly adept and comfortable with it.

He had a stack of thick, dried out branches under his arm and the rod in his other hand when he approached the inn. Wood for the fireplace, or the stove. Whatever would be necessary. He had been leaving a small stack every other day for at least two weeks now, and while it wasn't much it was more than nothing.

He tried to drop them off early enough to avoid bumping into anyone else most days, but his training had gone longer than usual that morning.

When he opened the door, his expression went from focused to perplexed, and he stood for a moment with the door still held open, letting the cold in and the heat out. It didn't take but a moment to snap out of it and tug the door shut behind him, but his gaze drifted around at all the boxes, a frown on his face and his brows knit.

Who had managed to find the time or the boxes enough to waste resources and otherwise valuable energy on? It took some careful maneuvering to make it through the inn to the fireplace and deposit his stack of branches before his focus could be turned to another in the room.

"What is this?" He left off 'nonsense' from his question and did his best to keep his tone more- what was the word that had been used? Conversational?

[3ofswords]

Kira had seen tall, dark and grim a few times from the small window of his room, marching up the road, disappearing along the edge of the inn, then leaving shortly after. He'd never seen that frown up close before, and there was a vein of pity for it to strike, like watching a kid work out a puzzle.

A very broad-shouldered kid, but still. Kira drops the tags he was examining and cocks a smile at the question: "It's Christmas," he answers, tipping his chin at the bundle of wood. "Is that what you got me?"

[teen_angst_bullshit]

There is so much to mistrust about this entire presents shindig, particularly after it starts coming to light that their innermost notions have been made material in the giving. But like the feast from a month ago, there's only so far that wariness goes before it's overwhelmed by simple need -- For something nice, for a break, for the comfort of a little luxury. Veronica's kind of embarrassed by how easily she broke this time.

There are a lot of nice and imminently useful things discovered in her personal pile of boxes, but the coat is one of the things that actually makes her smile for reasons beyond simply having stuff. With all the bodies and the blazing fire, it's plenty warm in the room, but she shrugs it on anyway and steps through the flotsam.

"Thanks for the coat you didn't know you were giving me. I apologize if I gave you something embarrassing."

[ofspaceandtime]

“I have no idea,” Ciri’s tone was perplexed as she felt.

When she’d come down that morning it had been to an entirely different sort of inn than the one she had gone to bed on. It was hard to believe one room could hold so many packages. In addition the scene grew eerier still once she’d come to the realization each of these packages had tags, some of them with her name on them. Her full name, not Ciri, but Cirilla. Who here even knew her name besides Credence, and surely he couldn’t have been responsible for all of this… could he?

She hadn’t touched her own packages yet, but Ciri had opened a small note, with an equally bewildering set of riddles scrawled on it. She was clutching it now when Ren approached the fireplace with his bundle. “It certainly wasn’t here last night.”

Sansa Stark | OTA

[turned_to_steel]

It had certainly taken a little while to sort through the boxes, even after other people started arriving and she had gotten some help. Eventually, she was standing over to the side where she had her own boxes with her name on them waiting for her. Eyeing them all, she found herself hoping there wasn't another animal somewhere in there since it was going to take her awhile to get through them.

Glancing now and then at other people in the Inn, she started with the first box that belonged to her. She went through each present slowly, making sure to keep the tags with each one so she would know who to thank later on. She kept an eye on the rest of the room as well, watching the different reactions as people arrived to find the presents waiting in the room.

[thekittenqueen]

Having opened Sansa's, Margaery draped her beautiful cloak over her shoulders, pulling it tightly around her. Even with the fireplace, she was still cold. It seemed forever since she had anything so nice and beautiful to herself. So much had been denied, first when in the Black Cells, then afterwards during her pretense at piety. She could actually indulge herself again and it felt like such a relief.

Moving to sit beside her friend, Margaery nudged Sansa with her shoulder. "What do you think? You have cloaked me before the whole of the room." She laughed, before glancing towards Sansa's presents. "What is in the box that is from me?"

Re: Sansa Stark | OTA

[notsocommon]

"Did you honestly go through and organize the lot of these?" Helen had gotten a nice little collection and she was quite pleased with them. She had been especially pleased with the ones that would help her further the rudimentary medicine in the village and the perfume to aid in her soapmaking; the others were simply just nice things to have to keep warm.

"I have to say, you're to be congratulated. I'd have taken one look at the lot and given up and gone home."

[catchallthecats]

Arya wasn't expecting this to be any different than any other day. She figured she'd go to the fountain early, before everyone was finished with their morning routines and chores, and on the way back, she'd stop into the inn for something to eat.

Stopping dead when she walked through the door to find the room filled with all manner of boxes wrapped in bright paper. She wasn't sure if she should be wary or simply confused at this point, slowly taking in the sight before her gaze found Sansa settled near one of the piles. Hope she wasn't opening an embarrassing present at that point because Arya would just make a beeline to her.

"What is all of this?" Sorry Sansa, she's not yet sure how she should feel about all of this.

[kissed_byfire]

After opening the gift from Sansa off in a corner, Ygritte wandered over her way once she noticed her on her own. In her hand she held the box with the snare wire and though the wildling only ever used rope, she saw the benefits to it being metal.

Ygritte cleared her throat to get the other woman's attention and promptly glanced down.

"Wanted to say thank ya for the box." she said, not knowing what else to say. This was the first time she'd felt the need to express gratitude for something given to her. "Never been given anything like this before. I'll make good use of it."

[3ofswords]

His last Christmas had been just a month or so prior--he'd wrapped an I♥NY mug in torn wallpaper just to watch Nicky repress a smile and groan, until he found the pair of cigarettes tucked inside. Ty had plucked carols on the three strings of his broken guitar, and Kira had torn up a dirty wreath from a store display to approximate mistletoe, tucked it into Ty's belt and laughed all the way back to his apartment.

If you'd told him he'd miss a single day of that long winter, he'd--believe it, remembering the people he'd met in that garage. Nice as it was for the lump in his pillow to be a knit bear hat with his name on it instead of another punch to the metaphorical gut, it didn't replace the people he'd left behind.

The metaphorical punch came later, after he'd come down to the common room and found it full of boxes, sorted into piles by name. He'd found his by the door, traced the names of strangers and acquaintances on the tags, and moved the foodstuffs to the kitchen. What he was left with, and the fact of the gifts at all--reinforced the fact that he was here, and short of waking up from a dream, here to stay. Even five days in, the impossibility of the village was taking hold, had his name, put it on tools and books for survival, used it to gift people he'd so much as looked over in his short stay.

Then the girl who'd been sorting the gifts when he came down started to open her own, and he'd caught a flash of canvas green--that fucking parka, free of grime and age, its fur lining shiny and new in the lights. He couldn't think about home without thinking of it, and somehow it didn't surprise him that something had noticed. His dark coat felt heavy on his shoulders just looking at it, itched at his skin, and he had to look away--reconsidering the "imported" beer someone had left him.

The tags tied to four of the bottles don't help shift his mood back to festivities, names and riddles in simple script: From: Credence; haven't you neglected your education for long enough? and on the others, a short follow the cards.

Holding a few between his fingers, he's back near the door with his remaining spoils when more people begin to arrive, muttering over the pile: "If Thor is what that jacked guy with blond hair calls himself I'm going to scream."

[treadswater]

It's all a bit much today. A girl can get used to solitude, the company of just another person. Annie's too good at it, too adaptable: it means socialising again hard. The lunches have helped, when she has turned up. Meetings. She has a background of village, docks, markets, City One in all its busy hum. She can handle noise, colour.

But the brightness of all the gifts, the number of them (and she absently starts counting, clinging to numbers and calculations as a security line) and the loud, excited buzz of people in this confined space...

Annie scuttles to the edges, nominally to pack her backpack more thoroughly. She doesn't think anyone will stab Finnick in this throng, she doesn't need to shadow him.

But her at the edges means she overhears what the thin man says, and it's startling enough that she looks up and over at him.

"Why?" she asks, too startled and confused to stumble over her voice.

Kate | OTA - multiple options

[lastofthekellys]

She'd been late getting down to the Inn's ground floor. Her bed had been nice and warm, as had Benedict. It wouldn't hurt, surely, to just... stay there for a while. Kiss her man. She'll up in time for Miss Stark, she's sure. Except one thing lead to another, and Kate's a bit later getting down than she'd planned. She is, in fact, still plaiting her hair as she walks down the stairs, preparing to apologise if Miss Stark is on time.

Except there are boxes, spilling out of the main room into the foyer. Boxes, wrapped in colourful paper. Bright paper. Festive paper.

Kate stares and then, after making sure Miss Stark isn't lying dead somewhere under a landslide of gifts, runs lightly up the stairs to grab her coat and inform Benedict of what is happening.

After that, she can be found a few places. Having managed to get into the kitchen by going around the outside of the Inn, she - well, to be honest, she first has to reassure Miss Hoppity that all is well, and that she's a good cat for catching those mice. But after that, she pours herself a thin lick of bourbon into a glass, downs it, and gets to work warming up the stove and starting breakfast. Lessons will wait until later: for now, she needs to do what she can so food isn't forgotten.

That done, and once a path between kitchen and main room has been cleared, she sets about sorting gifts. Occasionally, she runs upstairs with hers or Benedict's, the better to clear space. Occasionally, she pours herself some wine, because the wine is still there and this is... This is...

Kate doesn't know what to think about it.

Lunch is served somewhat later than normal, and most in small shifts in the kitchen. The kitchen is warmer than the main room currently, with the fire lit so late after the gifts have been cleared, and it's easier to sit around the table there than try and find a chair in the main room.

The clouds are rolling in, and the snow is falling. And, still, there are gifts to sort. There are hundreds of the things, but hopefully not thousands. Particularly not with that weather and the amount of people still in the building.

Kate pours herself another glass. It is, she suspects, going to be a very long day.

[3ofswords]

Having dumped his rations into their box to save the bucket for Mark, Kira had left his other gifts in his room, carrying the rations down to place with the rest of the food items in the emptying kitchen and get some of the food he's been helping Kate serve between meeting some of the neighbors, with varying degrees of success.

"Figure you won't let me starve if I add these to the supplies instead of hoarding them," he says, hefting the box at her as if to toast her emptying glass as he passes. He stacks it on the boxes of flour and salt pork he'd already maneuvered into the corner.

Hopefully, it's the last thing he has to do for awhile. Momentum can keep him going through the meals, but after a shift in the kitchen or another attempted hike along the river, he still needs to sit and catch his breath. It isn't just the cold, and it wasn't just the dip in the fountain--he'd made slow progress back to the safehouse when he left Chelsea, having to rest on most rooftops he'd managed to climb to before starting the next leg of the journey.

He doesn't know what the next leg of this is, but at least there are chairs to slump into, and someone normal to do it with. "Get anything good," he asks, propping his feet on a chair opposite.

OTA

[thecatinahat]

Normally, Cougar's trip to the Inn stops when he delivers the eggs and goes back home to do his work, but today he's found a disaster zone of people, boxes, and happy faces (even if some people look somewhat confused). He finishes in the kitchen and turns to leave when he sees some of the boxes have his name on them. Taking off his hat, he settles down to give some of them a poke and a shake. Gifts like this have been happening to him here, but never on this level.

More than that, these have tags on them, including from tags. He sifts through some of the names and ends up opening three specific gifts that are then placed on top of the boxes in front of him. Two of the gifts have made Cougar smile warmly -- inasmuch as he smiles, ever -- and he reverently runs his fingers over the gold of the crucifix with Veronica's name in the back and does the same for the rifle that he genuinely might have teared up a little to see.

Those, though, he understands. It's the last gift from Jake in the small box that he doesn't. He opens up some of the others boxes to see if it will reveal how these people found things and why they're here, but it sheds no light on Jake's gift. Flipping one of the gold rings like a coin, he lifts it to the light and squints to see a message inside. Binary, that's what Jake calls it. Tucking one and then the other into his pocket, he sets that aside and tries not to fixate on why or what. Ducking forward, he settles the crucifix on his chest, one palm to his tattoo as he murmurs a quick prayer and kisses the crucifix.

Then, he returns to his happy task, whistling cheerfully as he assembles his new MK-12 rifle.

[hawkeyesniper]

Riza noticed Cougar right away despite the other people and boxes still stacked everywhere. To be fair, she'd sort of been looking for him given that she had found his gift to her under her pillow of all places. That sort of made him stick out in her mind so she'd been keeping an eye out for his arrival.

She approached him with the intent of opening the gift in front of him and asking if he'd received any gifts delivered to his home. However, that question went out of her mind when she saw what he was focused on. She set her own box down and leaned in, "I'm not sure whether I should be happy for you or just extremely jealous right now. Though that doesn't seem quite in the spirit of things."

Sharon Carter | OTA

[carterbyblood]

Sharon was still trying to find her way in the world that she know lived in, but at least she wasn’t living a lie. She could be grateful for that at least, she had told her Aunt Peggy the truth, or at least the most important parts. She didn’t really feel the need to fill in all the details of her life in recent months. Aunt Peggy seemed to have enough on her plate dealing with this place that Sharon didn't want to add more to it.

Sharon stepped into the inn, not really expecting to see Christmas puked all over the place, but she couldn’t help but smile. She had never really been much of a celebrator of the holidays, mostly because she lost her family so young, but Aunt Peggy had changed all of that, hand changed her world completely.

She stepped towards the tree and found a stack of presents with her name on them. She looked around, a little stunned because she had not expected to receive gifts. Sharon was not the type of person that would tear through her gifts as if on a rampage, she instead opened each carefully, making sure to set aside the tags so she could thank people properly when she saw them.

we haven't really threaded much -- so let's do this

[notabirdcostume]

Sam had seen Sharon around of course, but when winter weather set in and various attacks had occurred it wasn't like there was a moment to really sit down and chat a lot of the time. Which, too be fair, was a little ridiculous given the fact that with that same winter weather Sam was stuck indoors a lot more than previously. The point was he felt compelled to stop by and chat with Sharon now that they were 1) in the same location and 2) he had found a present from her addressed to him.

He was normally excited for Christmas as much as anyone, but this particular event was coming on the heels of a little too much tragedy that also had a familiar flare. First a feast and now this.

"You seem to be enjoying yourself," he said as he approached.

Logan | OTA

[notan_animal]

Asides from the people he'd met the first couple of days he was there, Logan kept to himself mostly. He'd come to the Inn first thing in the morning, get some coffee and head back out within minutes without putting himself in any position to talk, which luckily, he managed to do successfully.

But that particular morning it seemed something was going on. There was far more than the regular one or two sitting in the dining room. But the reasons for that were obvious enough. Christmas. Happy times. Presents. Holiday spirit..

He needed to get his coffee and get the hell out of there fast.

No, it didn't occur to him there for him. So, he planned to use the commotion over by the tree to get what he came for and hopefully duck out without anyone noticing.

[thekittenqueen]

She had been in the kitchen, making the tea she had received as a gift. For as much as he wanted to slip away unseen, Margaery manages to spy Logan, regarding him with mild amusement as she sips at her drink. "There are gifts for you under the tree." She hadn't actually seen them, but given that everyone else had received something, it only stood to reason he had too.

"You should consider staying to open them." She was well aware it was a difficult request from anyone, giving the suspicious nature of it all. Yet there were so few opportunities to indulge in a bit of fun.

The feast had been relatively harmless...save for poor Karen...which said something about how all of this might end. She shook her head, preferring to think positively. "There's no harm in seeing what the others got you."

Sam Wilson | OTA

[notabirdcostume]

A. At the Inn
You know how when you're a kid and Christmas morning comes and magically there are presents under the tree? There's a feeling that wells up in your chest. It's a mixture of awe and excitement and fascination. How did those get there? They weren't there the night before and to the eyes of a three year old it can look like HUNDREDS of gifts sometimes -- even if in reality it's only a few dozen. In that moment magic is real and you believe that Santa is the coolest person ever.

As an adult, coming to a room filled with mysteriously boxed, wrapped, and delivered gifts is a little more sinister. They'd been getting boxes all along, sure, but not like this. This was more gifts than Sam had ever seen, all in one room. They were all wrapped and they all appeared to be labeled as well. Sam stood in the entrance for a few minutes just taking all of it in and trying to process what it all meant. The feast had been like this too and look how that had turned out. Sam glanced over his shoulder, half expecting to see a figure looming in the shadows between houses--but it was clear.

Sam frowned, trying to fathom what the game was here. He was so very tired of these manipulations and yet they continued to play to the wants and desires of the inhabitants of the village. Sam hated it, and yet he knew he was going to get drawn into opening the boxes if for no other reason than to satisfy his curiosity and to make sure there wasn't anything useful he was missing.

So, Sam began the process of looking for presents addressed to him. If he saw anyone nearby whose name he recognized it was likely he'd give you a shout and see what they had somehow gotten him or, more curiously, what he had apparently gotten them.

B. Treasure Hunt
It wasn't long before Sam found an odd envelope with writing printed in the same hand as that of the labels and tags on the boxes. Sam ripped it open as he sat at one of the less covered tables and several illustrated cards fell out with a light patter. Sam couldn't make sense of them at first, as they were all jumbled. He gathered them back up and then started to study the pictures more closely. Each illustration looked hand drawn and had the word 'Clue' printed on the back in bold lettering. He was already suspicious of all of this being another distraction and this was just the cherry on top, wasn't it? The illustrations themselves were gorgeously drawn and colored as well.

The first was of an bathtub made of iron -- for whatever reason. The second illustration was clearly of the fountain. The third had a house that looked eerily like the one he lived in now, but the focus of the picture was the tree. The tree was so detailed Sam could even make out a bird's nest in one of the lower branches. What was really scary was the fact that he recognized exactly what tree that was as well. The fourth was a picture of the bakery down the road. Sam had actually not been in that building very often at all. The final image was a drawing of a floor, instead of a bed a falcon was depicted curled in its nest.

He stared at that last one for a minute, his frown deepening. He knew a lot of the events transpiring here were messed up -- but stuff like this really crossed the line. He spread the cards out and stared at them. He wasn't sure he wanted to find what "gifts" were hiding behind these clues or not. Perhaps someone would be willing to convince him.

Finnick Odair | Credence and OTA!

[fishermansweater]

Credence:

Finnick has never heard of Christmas, or of any of the associated winter festivals that used to be a part of his world's history. Winter, for him, means the Victory Tour: usually showing up at some dinner for the Mayor in District Four then catching a train to the Capitol for the grand finale and his date with whoever's paid to have him for the social event of the season. Then time away from Annie, missing her, in the Capitol, until he's allowed to return to the relative safety of home.

There's little good about winter in Panem.

So Finnick doesn't know to expect anything. He's simply been to make the morning rounds of his fishtraps, and is bringing by the fish he leaves for Kate Kelly most days, when he thinks he'll have it to spare. He's been leaving it more often now that he and Annie are occasionally coming for lunch.

Unfortunately, it's impossible to approach the back door of the Inn without being visible from the windows. Usually, he thinks he gets away with it, but not always.

And today it might be good for someone to catch him before he leaves ...


All:

Once he'd had the fact that there were gifts, more than could be easily collected and taken back with him, waiting in the Inn for both him and Annie, Finnick's immediate response had been to go back to the house and collect her, and have their standard hurried discussion on whether this is really a wise idea.

Except, as always, what choice do they have? It's clear what the Gamemakers, or whoever is in charge here, want them to do. Go to the Feast, just as they did to the Harvest Festival.

Go to the Feast with his knife in his pocket. Just in case.

And take both their backpacks, as empty as possible, after the lesson of trying to steal their share from the laden tables at the festival.

So Finnick and Annie arrive at the Inn later than many, to find the main room full of people and boxes and paper. It's a sight unlike anything he's ever seen before. Dozens of people and hundreds of boxes. The only thing that comes close is the monthly delivery of food to a victorious district, when everyone flocks to receive their packages of some new luxury unknown in years when their tributes both died.

It takes a while to find their gifts, which someone (or someones) had thoughtfully stacked next to each other, and the piles are surprisingly huge. They don't know many of these people, but there are dozens of gifts there. One Finnick picks at random has a name he doesn't even recognize on it (Kira Akiyama), and certainly most of these aren't from people he would have thought cared enough to give him anything.

"What's going on?" he asks, not to anyone in particular.

Of course, later on, he'll be going through the boxes and opening them, and reacting with utter delight to some of them, practical satisfaction with some, and generally gratitude that anyone had bothered.

He hasn't been acting the pretty little toy he plays in the Capitol to have its gifts laden on him, and many of these feel genuine.

[71st_victor]

Johanna hadn't been very popular during her Games, at least not enough to be receiving gifts on a regular basis the way that other people did -- certain people like Finnick and Katniss come to mind. So when she shows up and finds gifts with her name on them, she wonders if it's a trap at first until she finds the one marked 'from Finnick'. That one she tears into, finding something she's been missing for so long.

The weapons of destruction that will keep her alive if it comes to that. This isn't from the Gamemakers, this is from a friend and the others seem to be from her little group. When she glances up, she sees Finnick and lets out a sharp sound of excitement, shoving people out of the way. "Finnick!" she cries with joy, the axes tucked back in the box so she can jump right into his arms with a tackling hug, kissing him chastely on the cheek, then the lips, then the other cheek. "You're my favorite person in the world right now," she announces, having expected him to catch her and not let her fall.

Riza Hawkeye | OTA

[hawkeyesniper]

Riza knew it was going to be an odd day when she woke to something under her pillow. Her first thought was that it was another box and how disturbing it was that -- once again -- they'd somehow managed to get her while she was asleep. It wasn't like she was a heavy sleeper and honestly she should have felt something prior to waking up.

However, when she pulled the box from her pillow it wasn't just her name or the normal box. This one was wrapped like a gift and the tag clearly had 'Cougar' written in the 'From' section of the label. Odd. There was no way Cougar could have gotten paper like this around town. Before she could open it, the light from the rising sun caught off something on her window. There was another gift wrapped box on the sill outside as well. Frowning, Riza collected the two gifts, noting that this one was from Finnick.

'Another strange day then I guess,' she thought to herself, more in resignation than panic. Of course. last time something this unexpected had happened someone had died. But they had killed that monster...right? Riza wasn't completely at ease with this, but she might as well follow the bread crumbs before her. Two gifts in her room was surely an omen of something.

And, sure enough, Riza appeared downstairs a few minutes later in her grey scrubs to a room bustling with people and more boxes than she could could. She hadn't bothered to put her hair up yet and now she brushed some strands behind her ear as she took it all in. She looked back down at the two gifts already tucked under her arm and then back at the scene before her. "This is...a little much," was all she could manage to say as she tried to take it all in.

[tobeclosetohim]

"That's definitely one way to put it," Jo agreed.

She'd been walking back toward the main room for the kitchen and the group there currently. It was a nice break away from all of this. It was unsettling, the endless piles and piles and piles of boxes and bags. All of them in different colors, shapes, and sizes, covered the tables and chairs and floor. Everywhere, for everyone.

Kira Nerys - OTA

[thenewways]

Nerys turns up at the inn for lunch--a lot of her energy lately has been taken up by keeping her house above freezing (some of the tips she got from the meeting have been put to good use, that's for sure), and as a result she's spent most of the morning chopping wood and gathering branches. A hot lunch is more than welcome after that, as the problem with exerting oneself in the cold is that parts of the body heat up quickly and others stay cold and get colder from residual sweat.

Boxes and bags of presents aren't entirely something she's used to, and definitely in not a situation where they appear en masse like these seem to have done. The ones that haven't been opened yet by their recipients are neatly wrapped in vivid jewel-toned paper, reds and greens and blues and silvers and golds; they are topped with ribbons, bows, paper stars. It is something far stranger than the notion of a harvest feast to Nerys, a non-human child of the Occupation.

"What in all the hells is all of this," she murmurs to herself, incredulous, though she's at least had the presence of mind to shut the door behind her automatically. For a moment, she stands there, stunned, until someone brushes past and she thinks to move out of one of the narrow paths through the gifts and detritus. It's all very unsettling and she needs to take a second to parse it all.

What Nerys doesn't realise, what doesn't even cross her mind, is the notion that anything there could be for her.

[lastofthekellys]

"That, Miss Nerys, is an excellent question," Kate says, after appearing. She tries not to appear at people, but the mountains of gifts are making it hard today. At least her white blouse stands out amongst the heapings of jewel tones.

In her hands is gold-wrapped box which she holds out. It is from Kate herself.

"This one is for you. As far as we can all tell, there are gifts for everyone in the village. Even those who just turned up the last few days. And they're all... from the rest of us. Although I do not understand how."

Thorfinn - OTA

[seekingvinland]

It always seemed to be on the days he managed to get into a deep sleep that things happened, waking up late he had started out to head to the woods when he saw people coming to the inn. He was a bit confused as he pulled his cloak on, calling back inside the house to let Jo and Kol know something was up, the axe left behind as he made his way to the inn.

Stepping inside, he pulled the hood back down seeing all the boxes. It was a bit mindboggling to see all of it. So many colors and shapes. He made his way inside seeing the piles and people opening boxes.

"What is this?" It was nothing like what he knew, he was confused by it.

After someone had explained he sat quietly off by himself, as he so often did looking at the small mountain of boxes with his name on them. Jo had showed him how to read his name when his first box came. Still very enamored by the pretty paper he used his knife to cut at the edging so not to harm the pretty paper, more so the sparkly ones. He looked surprised at each gift, like he could not comprehend why and how. He kept the paper with the boxes so he could try to figure out who gave what. It was going to be hard when he couldn't read english.

Credence Barebone | OTA

[repressings]

Morning;
His first instinct is to just stay in bed. He usually doesn't want to, and he's usually up at the crack of dawn, but he oversleeps by ten whole minutes. That's enough time to warrant punishment in his previous life, and that's what forces him to drag the sheets off of himself and sit upright.

Maybe he's coming down with something? It wouldn't be the first time he'd been sick in the winter. It wouldn't be the first time he'd had to suck it up and deal with it, either, and as he groggily glances out the window he reminds himself that a cold is the least of his worries. There are people--others--that are relying on him. That's far more stirring than the negative reinforcement he's so used to.

For those in the inn, he can be seen shuffling down the stairs, only to come to a halt mid-descent as he notices everything around him.

"What's going on?"

Presents;
It never occurs to him that there are gifts for him. He's far too busy moving among the giant stacks, helping to organize everything with the others. A stack for each person, and then some. Credence is neat and dilligent, ever quiet in his work until he picks up a box to look at it's label and halts.

'Credence,' the writing says. 'From Stella.'

He doesn't move for what feels like a good solid minute, frozen to the spot with sheer surprise. He takes the box, holds the label as tightly as he can, and re-reads it over and over.

"I've got a present," he says out loud, and he sounds like he's unsure whether or not it's actually his. He finally looks up, startled, and once he catches someone's eye he'll slowly lift the gift up, confusion apparent.

Others;
Some of his gifts aren't just at the inn--some of them are hidden around the place, and Credence can be seen trying to figure them out. Those more observant than others might even see a ghost of a smile on his face.

Those most observant of all will certainly catch him moving up the stairs and to his room, moved to tears and not wanting anyone to see.

Others;

[3ofswords]

Kira didn't have to look for Credence: the shadow that moved with him was singular, compelling, demanding of a specific kind of attention. The hair didn't quite stand upon the back of his neck--hadn't since the day he'd arrived--but even in a room with men who made the air taste like iron and lightning, he could turn his head in the right direction at the right time to find that mop of black hair.

Someone really needed to do something about it, but, he supposes haircuts don't come in wrapped boxes.

Rubbing the tag with the appropriately cryptic message between his fingers, Kira looks over the thinning crowd in the room for its giver, that shadow drawing his gaze to the stairs. With most of his own gifts moved to the kitchen for Miss Kate's use, Kira hefts the remaining items in the rather drab tarp Bucky had deemed him worthy of, and sets off after him. Perhaps he can shed some light on the message, or would like an extra pair of gloves.

"Credence," he greets carefully, coming up behind him in the upstairs hall. "Did you manage to get any lunch downstairs?"

Jo Harvelle | OTA

[tobeclosetohim]

The night before had been Kol's Bonfire Season night, and Jo had stayed up to see the end of the whole night with Kol and Thorfinn, down to the last guest and spark of fire. She hadn't gone to bed at peace with her own wish, or with allowing herself to wish, but it had been closer to dawn than not when she dropped into her bed, which made it even more surprising when Thorfinn ran in and woke up her and Kol, yelling about the Inn being full of boxes.

Not sure she was entirely ready to be awake, or deal with whatever fresh hell their captors had decided on, she'd still pulled on her pants, boots, jacket and everything else, following back to the inn with them.........to a world of presents. Everywhere. Every kind of paper, and color of ribbon and bow. They were everywhere. People opening them and laughing. Some utterly confused, some delighted.

She bewildered for a long moment still when she gets directed to her own pile of presents.

She can't even remember what year it was the last time she got a Christmas or Birthday gift, and this is huge.



Still it doesn't stop her from shouldering out of her coat and settling down by it, picking a gift while watching other people laughing and tearing into theirs. She starts opening hers, not sure what to expect and surprised in some seconds. Though the one that surprises her most is a black leather jacket that she pulls up to her face to smell, reminding her so much of childhood, her father, before continuing on, ruffled brow at the how far more than the why's.

Re: Jo Harvelle | OTA

[thenewways]

Nerys herself has a thick grey cloak, which is startlingly reminiscent of the ones worn in Bajoran monasteries come wintertime, though the wool is different. Little does Nerys know that there are really only a small number of varieties to the concept of a cloak, and human ones look pretty much the same, but it's familiar and warm, and she's more than okay with that, considering the kind of weather they've been having. The notion of frostbite here makes her want to grimace.

"It suits you," she says to Jo, who's sitting nearby, apparently similarly bewildered by the gifts and holding a black leather jacket. "I'd say try it on, but it's damn warm in here."

And it is, between the extra boxes and paper and number of people.

Killian |ota

[seekingcrocodile]

Just because he doesn't live at the inn doesn't mean he knows nothing about what goes on there. He's in there at least once a day, after all, dropping off the fish he'd caught, and most days he sticks around for lunch too. It's one less thing he has to worry about for himself, and he's contributing. He might as well partake. It's the social part of his day.

So when he comes inside with his usual delivery of fish, it's to get a bit of a shock. He goes in the back first, right into the kitchen, where he puts the fish down, and it's the noise coming from the main room that catches his attention. Even when it's full, there's not usually that much seeming excitement. If excitement is the right word for it.

He steps into the main room, with the now-empty basket dangling from his hook. Mysterious surprises again, apparently. There's that now-familiar mix of feelings welling up again: relief at gaining resources, at maybe keeping disaster away or another day, but tinged with the disconcerting feeling that someone is toying with them. Which seems to be the consensus now. These feelings war with each other for a moment, along with thoughts on how to deal with this. He doesn't like the feeling of being toyed with, doesn't want whoever's doing this to have the satisfaction of knowing they got to him, but the endless hunger and exhaustion win out in the end. If there's something there that can make survival that much easier, he wants it, and he's not too proud to admit so.

It doesn't take long to find the stack with his name on them and dig in.

[ofspaceandtime]

Ciri can’t help but be fascinated. It feels as if everyone in the village has arrived by now, though she knows that can’t possibly be true. Nevertheless, she finds herself wandering through the growing sea of packaging, sidestepping the occasional wriggling lump she is fairly certain contain one of the inn’s resident felines. She watches people as she wanders, pausing at a dark-haired man who appears to only just be getting started on his pile.

“Finding anything interesting?” she questions, already somewhat sure there will be an answer. She has seen many interesting things today, even among her own gifts there are those she doesn’t understand, some that draw to light far too many questions.

Frank Castle | For Matt Murdock, & OTA after

[dnr]

That isn't Santa Claus rolling up late to the gift-giving extravaganza; it's just Frank, wrapped up in furs and sporting a few days' beard, creeping in nigh silent in the night after most of the inn's residents have gone up to sleep.

--Most, but not all. Unfortunately for Frank, a few of the inn's furrier residents have curled up to sleep in the boxes that litter the common areas, and as he sneaks through the door, Miss Hoppity flattens her ears at the draft and lets out a disgruntled mew.

"Shhh." His big hands come out of their makeshift gloves to soothe her, and after a yawn and a stretch she hops down to trot alongside him while he surveys the room. So many boxes, and not from their captors but from each other. Or so their captors want them to believe. But supplies are supplies, and he won't pass them up.

In short order, he's gathered the packages addressed to him together, to be tied up with spare ribbon and carted out into the woods again for investigation where he's less likely to be interrupted. But the last package onto the pile catches his attention. It's small, square and flat, with the slightest, achingly familiar give to the cardboard. To: Frank, From: Matt. It can't be, and yet-- his trigger finger tap-taps against the wrapping paper, breathing heavy and forced even, before he rips an oh-so-careful strip of paper from the spine. Turns it to catch the light.

One Batch, Two Batch

Ygritte

[kissed_byfire]

[For Jon - CLOSED; at their house]

It was just another morning to Ygritte. Holidays weren't anything her or her people celebrated. So, when she woke early that morning, all she planned to do was snuggle deeper into Jon's arms and think about how much this kind of life was in essence, sublime.

But no one ever got anything done laying around in bed all day and so the wildling shuffled out and went to the bathroom. As soon as the doorway was cleared, she spotted it: a brightly wrapped box wedged between the wall and the tub. Odd place for such a thing so she pulled it out and gave it a long, perplexing look.

Coming back to the bedroom, Ygritte stared at Jon still in bed. "What's this?" she asked seriously, showing it to him.

[At the Inn - OTA]

It didn't take long to hear the buzz about things going on at the Inn once they were outside. So that's where they headed, more or less following others to the building. When they stepped in, Ygritte's eyes widened and then narrowed in confusion.

There were a lot more boxes there and knowing what could potentially be inside since she already received a few at home, Ygritte stood wondering why all of this was happening.

Someone literally had no idea what Christmas was all about.

Re: Ygritte

[tooktheblack]

It took Jon a moment to wake. Normally he was an early riser, honestly, but it was warm in the house and he was inclined to spend more time curled up next to Ygritte and not investigating strange packages that had somehow appeared within in his home while he slept. Who would do such a thing? Robb? Sansa? How would they have done so without waken them?

"I've no idea," Jon said, blinking sleepily. He lifted a bit from the bed, blankets falling away to reveal his bare chest, and reached for her. "You should open it, then, and come back to bed. I don't want to get up yet, Ygritte."

ivan vorpatril | ota

[middling]

His first thought, coming down for something for breakfast and a warm fire, isn't Christmas. Barrayarans have been atheists since day one, or at least the Russian majority of them had been, and Ivan followed in the same non-theist traditions as — presumably — his father and grandfather. Not that he'd know. No, his first thought is Winterfair and all the associations with. With a cup of wine — thank god for that feast, at least — in one hand, Ivan sets about prodding the gifts with a cautious finger.

Not that he thinks any of them would explode, surely, but he doesn't know very many people here and, well. He's Ivan Vorpatril, not completely off the list of people to be concerned about back home. That, at least, seems to have changed here. Of course the trade off was werewolf-ape monsters, or whatever, so it probably wasn't worth it in the long haul.

Still, convinced that nothing too dangerous is lurking in his packages, Ivan sets about opening them. He's easy to get the attention of, if someone has a bone to pick about a present. But he’s far more concerned with his gifts, and every time he unwraps some sort of alcohol a wide grin splits his face and he sets those aside with care.

It's a furred cape in navy blue and a suit in the same shade, trimmed in gold that hold his attention the most, however. The cape is thrown around his shoulders with style, even if he doesn't know the gifter, but the suit — a cut that's obviously going to flatter him — poses more of an issue. He decides not to think about it too much, however, and gestures to the person closest to him, one hand still clutching the suit.

"You get anything good?" He's curious alright, and maybe someone's up for a trade. One never knows.

[womanofvalue]

Peggy knows exactly two things about this man. His name, and the fact that said name had arrived on a package addressed to Peggy that, once opened, revealed something so intimate that even had it arrived from one of the two men she considered in that light, she still might have been somewhat embarrassed to see it. So when that intricately distracting set of lingerie arrives from this stranger, she feels like she has no choice but to march over. "Ivan Vorpatril?" she confirms, but she doesn't wait for him to actually answer, given how much irritation and anger bubbles over.

The slap she gives him is by no means weak, but it's not the right hook she could have used. The only reason she hasn't gone with the latter is that it's still a gift and thoughtful in some perverted, awful way. This is why she's only slapped him, but the fury that burns in her eyes is far from amused or calm. "I can't even begin to list the number of ways the items in the box with your name on it are inappropriate to receive from anyone, let alone a complete stranger."