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

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

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.]

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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?

Edited 2016-12-20 14:32 (UTC)

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.

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."

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?"

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.

Ren doesn't immediately go on the defensive, something that has taken effort lately to try and keep himself from doing. He has been trying to appear less standoffish if only to try and build some kind of foundation in the village. He obviously isn't getting off this awful planet in the very near future, and if they come under attack or he needs something from these people he needs them to not be wary and distrustful of him. Which means he has to put forward an appearance of not being wary and distrustful of them. Even though he very much is.

"Help yourself if you want it." His voice still has a bit of an edge to it when he offers that response, but he slides his weapon back comfortably against his back and examines Kira and then the boxes all over the room, eventually returning his focus to Kira.

"That word has no meaning." He doesn't know what Christmas is, or why that one word seemed meant to explain the disarray and overload of boxes. But he can guess at their purpose with the latter half of the response. He picks up a box, and studies the tag, perplexed, before tossing it toward Kira.

"Who wasted time making this mess? You can hardly move through here." He's tempted to see how many of the boxes he can shove at the furthest wall with the force, but he doesn't. "They're not even stacked in any kind of efficient or sensible manner." Conversational and approachable. Nailed it.

The toss startles him a bit, the box lighter than its size would imply, and he drops his idling hands from his gifts to catch it with his arms and lap.

The voice matches the face, and the other half of Kira's mouth lifts for a full smile, with teeth. Broadcasting offense, he's found, doesn't make people stop being assholes. He touches the tip of his tongue to an incisor and surveys the room again, as if only just taking in the source of the man's mood. "Well, the girl who I found dividing them up for us looks like she weighs ninety pounds, so feel free to find the skinny redhead and educate her on gift-stacking for a holiday you've never heard of."

Eyeing the names on the tag, he almost laughs--it's one of his, for someone he's never heard of. He certainly didn't sneak down here to place it. "The from means this one isn't mine. Put it back in the Kylo Ren pile." Hefting it under the edges, he tosses it back.

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.

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.

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.

Edited 2016-12-20 22:41 (UTC)

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.

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."

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?"

"There's no reason to run. I don't think Christmas presents ever hurt anyone," Jean said, giving him a look over her own small pile. She hadn't expected anything, honestly, and to have a few things to call her own was really nice. Especially nice were the toiletries and hairbrush; she'd been making do without anything of the sort for the past few weeks.

"I won't tell anyone I saw you here. Promise."

"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."

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.

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 wasn't a social man by any stretch of the word and the suggestion, as innocent as it probably was, didn't make initiate any kind of expression other than a flat stare. No, if there was gifts under that tree for them, he wasn't really in the trusting mood. Things like this came with a price.

No, he was fine taking just taking his coffee. That was enough of a gift.

Still, his eyes wandered that way while a brow arched.

"Others? And who might that be?"

That was just it. Why would anyone want to get him a gift? No one knew him. Logan hadn't helped out anywhere since he got there. Unless people appreciated others staying out of their way. People were strange.

"Guess that depends on who their from." Logan said, lifting the mug up. "And I think it's too late for that."

He'd already had a few well wishes for the holidays.

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.

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.

Edited 2016-12-21 13:01 (UTC)

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.

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."

Currently poking through a box of strange, colorful things, Sansa looked up at the question and found herself smiling shyly in response before nodding. "I did."

"I did think about turning around and leaving when I saw them all but curiosity got the better of me." She added, sliding the lid over the box which had make up inside. She would figure it all out later but for now she remained focused on the lovely looking woman with a smile. "And since I couldn't actually open every present myself, I thought it would be nice to separate them for people."

"Well, apparently they're from us," Jean said, lifting one of the boxes to show him where her name was on the label. "Not that I had time to go shopping or anything but apparently the powers that be felt like I would get you socks and a...blanket thing. Whatever that means."

Jean gave him a look, then a little laugh. "Are you going to use the wearable blanket, Logan?"

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Page 1 of 9

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

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Sansa Stark | OTA

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Kate | OTA - multiple options

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OTA

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Sharon Carter | OTA

Logan | OTA

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Re: Logan | OTA

Re: Sansa Stark | OTA

Sam Wilson | OTA

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

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Finnick Odair | Credence and OTA!

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Riza Hawkeye | OTA

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