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

[fishermansweater]

It's become a little ritual, the present of fish in a hand-woven basket or a bed of leaves, depending on what he's been able to find or make lately and how much he thinks he can spare. He wouldn't have to leave it on anything if he'd stop for long enough to take the fish inside, but he's still wary enough of the inn that he doesn't want to do that.

Even though he knows he can be seen, he doesn't expect anyone to stop him or call out to him. They rarely do, and he slips back to his and Annie's hideaway, though it's become significantly less of a place to hide since winter forced them to start lighting the fire, stove, and boiler.

So he's not expecting to hear the door open, and when he does, his first thought is to run for cover, but the voice he hears is Credence's.

The urgency of his message is apparent both from the fact that he's out of breath and from the fact that he raises his voice, when Finnick has never heard him do so.

"Presents?"

Some people here call the sponsor or Gamemaker -- or whatever they are if they're not from sponsors watching on television -- gifts they receive here presents, but Credence's excitement sounds like more than just the appearance of one of the boxes of gifts.

He turns back to face the inn, to see a flustered-looking Credence standing in the doorway. Finnick frowns, a little, out of confusion and curiosity combined.

"Do you mean the square boxes with people's names on them?"

He suspects not.

[repressings]

"That's what presents are, sir," Credence's voice is still cutting through the snow and the air, though it's not as loud. He's still excited, everything new and strange and he's never gotten presents before in his life--maybe Finnick hasn't either and that's why he's confused--and it's a thrill.

He moves his hands again, ushering him inside.

"There's some for you, too," He promises. He doesn't realize he's rocking on his feet, weight at the balls of his feet and then the tip of his toes, antsy with anticipation.

"Can you believe it?" It's probably the most he's talked like this, too, and from the looks of it, he's trying his best not to smile.

[fishermansweater]

Sir is such a strange thing to be called. It speaks of a respect that nobody from the Districts, not even the victors, ever really gets. People from the Districts are just simple people, there to serve the Capitol. Even the victors are only interesting as novelties, for the fun they can provide.

That strangeness is overridden, though, by Credence's clear excitement. It sounds like he means something different than the boxes that Finnick still thinks of as sponsor gifts. He's never seen the young man look so excited, or show so much determination as he does now.

"For me?"

Some for him. Why would gifts for him be in the Inn?

Still, he follows Credence, because he doubts the young man is trying to harm or fool him.

There are, indeed, gifts, and many of them, and a lot of people apparently sorting the ... what must be hundreds of boxes stacked in the main room of the inn.

Finnick turns back to Credence, frowning in thought.

"Did you see any for Annie?"