[Xanth]

Overnight, the quadrangle has changed. Overnight, an elaborate ice structure appeared, surrounding the great statue of Xanth.

Xanthmas has begun.

Every week until the 29th of December, you can roleplay each of your characters visiting the grotto to claim a gift (one per week per character, to a total of four each). Since I can't reply to each post, the idea is for you to get in and out in a single post, and then I'll announce at the end of each week what gifts your characters have received.

Each visit must be in-character and 50 words or more. I'm also asking you to include a wishlist for your character in an OOC note so I have some idea of what to give you rather than something generic. (And remember to update your inventory at the end of Xanthmas!)

But before you post, please make sure to read the wiki entry for this event!

Have fun, and
MERRY CHRISTMAS!

[Maaike]

Without even meaning to, Maaike had triggered a new tradition in her family. On the 1st of Tesseminas, she brought Sammy home to Greenview with her, and the day after that, she took him through the portal to Alexandria.

Of course, that hadn't been her intention. She'd tried and tried to get him to understand how dangerous it was for him to be in Espur, and how difficult it would be for her to dodge Alexshire's guards with a six-year-old in tow — but he was adamant that he just had to go see "the goddess". He'd been so upset that he hadn't even come to wave her off when he left, and she'd barely made it thirty minutes before she turned right back around to go fetch him.

At least he was still paying attention to his training. He'd kept his promise to never let go of her hand the whole time they'd been walking Alexandria's streets, and hadn't complained when she'd made him pass right by the Grotto at least twice to make sure it was safe. Having Aiden on her side didn't mean squat in the grand scheme of things, and she didn't think this was even his territory.

“Now, Mama?” They were the first words he'd spoken since they arrived through the portal and he was doing his level best to not sound like a whiney child, but she could feel his excitement — or maybe trepidation — in the way he shivered around her back.

Nodding, Maaike carried him across the street and raced past the snowy bombardments, the sharp sting of an icy snowball thwacking her ear. Once inside, she set Sammy down but kept hold of his chubby little hand until he promised not to leave her sight. Even then, she struggled to keep up with him as he zipped through the maze, her calls for him to "Slow down!" reaching deaf ears.

Remembering how he'd asked for nothing but her safety last year, Maaike struggled to keep back tears as she slowed to a halt outside the throne room to give him a little privacy. When his voice reached her, those tears fell unchecked.

“Thank you for keeping my mama safe this year, Lady Xanth. An' ummmm.” His little nose scrunched up as he concentrated. Sometimes, it was so damn easy to forget that he was just a little boy. “Please keep her safe this year too, okay?”

[Aiden]

On the fifth day of Tesseminas, Aiden hauled himself away from his usual routine. After a quick dinner at a local sandwich place, Aiden jogged toward the southern part of the city. He'd heard from Sera that the grotto would be busy all month long—every hour of every day. It was a few hours before midnight, however, so the crowd may be thinner.

Standing at the entrance of the maze, Aiden could not remember when he'd last visited the grotto. Funny how hundreds of tourists flocked here daily from around the world...yet as a local, Aiden had only been here just once in the recent years. He wouldn't have visited today, either, had Aki not called him and gone all “You better go this year—and get me something good!” His sister could be motivational at times.

A couple steps into the maze and Aiden was already being pelted by snowballs from all around. With a yelp as snow hit the back of his neck, Aiden ran past an equally flustered trio of people. And so the four of them ran in a half yelping and half laughing manner. After what seemed like many minutes of excitement, the group broke into the clearing that housed the famous white throne and giant tree.

Breathing in between his laughter, Aiden strode toward the white throne at the center of the grotto. “I have not had that much fun in years,” he said to nobody in particular. Crouching onto one knee, he deposited a jewelled purple pin into the offering bowl at the base of the throne.

After sending a quick message of respect and wishes to Xanth, Aiden strode to pick a present from the tree. Shaking it, he murmured humorously toward the unseen goddess, “So how hard is it to figure out what somebody wants or needs?” Leaving the question unanswered, the therian tucked the present into his jacket, and with a grin, high-tailed past the snowmen who waited outside.

((Wishlist: Would a CLUE be to much to ask for? J/k.
Aiden likes video games, food, the outdoors, and anything that's practical.))

[Kiel]

Last year, Kiel messed up big time. This year, he was ready and waiting and had an offering prepared by the middle of Duminas. Like, but that just meant that the rest of Duminas, and the whole of Thallominas, became a blur of "Is it time yet?" "Can I go now?" "Now, now?"

Zeph got tired of it, like, way fast, and eventually kicked him out of the store early on the first of Tesseminas to "shove that thing where Hel don't shine". Actually, like, Kiel was pretty sure he'd romanticised the grumpy warrior's exact words, but the point was that he could now visit Xanth's Grotto with a clean conscience.

And, like, oodles and oodles of excitement, for sers! He spun past a bunch of kids on their way into the maze, almost tripping over his own feet as he spun to laugh at the shock on their faces when a snowman burst from a glittering snowdrift to dump a couple of loosely packed iceballs right on top of their heads. He “Wah!” when said snowman turned to come after him and skidded further into the maze with a burst of speed and laughter.

Except, like, they didn't call it a maze for nothing, man, and he totally got turned around. By the time he finally found the "throne room", as he'd fondly come to call it in his texts home, it was way past time for his mid-morning snack. Or, like, one of them, at least.

“Hey, hey, so, like.” Skidding to a stop before the ice throne, Kiel spoke in a voice made a whisper by his awe. “Like, I made you something, okay? Like, 'cause Zeph finally started teaching me stuff, you know, and it's not all that great but I made it, and they say that homemade stuff's like... way more cool than stuff you buy, like, right? I dunno, I mean, 'cause, like, the stuff you make is awesome. Like, the other day, I saw this sunset that was totally spectacular, you know, and the Sea of Stars is so cool!”

Catching his breath for a second, he laid out his offering — a very crudely made dagger that had a lop-sided hilt and a blade so sharp it could cut butter. Like, for sers. “Like, Zeph already gave up, wahahaha, but like, how does he expect me to learn anything when he's breathing in my ear the whole time going, "Not like that, you moron"?” He was used to the hairball's tactless ways, though, and if they'd bothered him at all in the last, like, zillion years they'd been together, then he wouldn't still be working for the dude, let alone sleeping with him.

“So, like, okay. I'll get better for next year, okay? Okay!” As if Xanth had responded, Kiel grinned and left, a sparkling silver box tucked under one arm. “Thanks!”

[Xanth]

In the first week of Xanthmas, She gave with seasonal cheer:

To Maaike: 15 KP to honour Sammy's request.

To Aiden: A pair of seawood tonfa with silver engravings.

To Kiel: A redwood boomerang engraved with a dragon that looks suspiciously like Pria.

[Aria]

It was the middle of summer, yet Aria was dressed in woollens. Putting a finger to the ice structure glistening in the morning sun before her and feeling the cold seep through the suddenly soggy wool of her glove, Aria began to understand why her sister had insisted on such unseasonable accoutrements before leaving the house. Aria still wasn’t sure as to what use the handcrafted masks clutched in Ciel’s glove-clad hands were going to be put, but she was willing to ignore this in favour of turning her attention to the fool that had just smacked her in the back of the head with a clump of snow. She was planning to exact some righteous payback, but it seemed the time for observing oddities was not yet over. Aria let a half-formed snowball fall from her hands as her assailant came plodding around a crystalline wall and into view, dropping clods of snow upon the ground after every ponderous footfall.

“Ugh.” Ciel exclaimed, clutching the masks to her chest in an effort to protect them from wet and snowy projectiles. “I hate those things. They always mess my hair up something awful. Come on, we should hurry up and get into the maze before more of them notice our presence.”

Had her sister not grabbed her arm to drag her into the maze Aria would have argued in favour of staying by the boundaries to wage war on the snowmen. That option denied her, she instead took on a new challenge – finding the treasure-throne area her sister had mentioned before the other tourists wandering leisurely about the glacial structure could. For a structure that was partially transparent, it was surprisingly difficult to navigate – or so Aria found at any rate as she strode through the maze getting more and more frustrated with every wrong turn. Finally the pair arrived at the throne area, the eldest sister too familiar with the scene to express any particular reaction to the spectacle, and the youngest too irritated to be receptive to anything other than the main attraction of the giant present bearing tree.

While Aria went straight to the tree to choose a present, rattling boxes and generally doing everything short of opening them to guess what might be inside, Ciel approached the throne and lay the masks she’d brought - delicate creations of dyed fabric, soft in texture and colour and glittering with small but expensive adornments – in the offering bowl, muttering a few vague comments to the idol as she did so. Over by the spruce, Aria found her attention drawn away from the chosen presents in her hands by the curiously arresting baubles hanging from the spiny branches – she was certain at one point that she had seen her mother in one glossy surface; but twice in the short span of three months was too cruel to be true, surely? Trying to shake her head free of morose thoughts Aria distanced herself from the tree with the strange decorations and rejoined her sister, handing her a silver present box as she ventured a question.

“Those are our Danse Macabre masks. Why are you leaving them here?”

“They’re an offering to Xanth. I thought them suitably pretty, plus they’re, ah... meaningful, so—”

“All the more reason to keep them.” Aria’s voice was quiet and level; a rare sign of carefully controlled emotion. Ciel sighed, knowing what was troubling her sister; aware of the memories the masks held for them both.

“All the more reason to let them go, Ari. You’ve got to... we’ve got to let her go. Holding on to them is just not healthy; mother wouldn’t want—” Ciel’s soft tone petered out into a frosty silence as her sister’s expression clouded over. Aria took one last look at the masks where they lay frayed and curled upon the offering pile like a withering wreath atop a laden funeral pyre, before walking with her sister solemnly back into the maze, lost in more ways than one.
—-
OOC: Hmmm, wishlist time... Perhaps something to do with animal care, to take care of the Nagrim that I bought her ages ago. Or any home furnishing items, or books with practical knowledge? I might be asking too much here.

PIPER'S BOUTIQUE || GLASGOW UNI || GLOBALPUFFER || ANTONIA THOMAS

[Erasmos]

Erasmos had been himself - right up until the start of the new month. As the days progressed, so too did his thoughts of family, duty, responsibility, and morality. He disliked such things of serious nature, and dwelling on these thoughts in particular always made him feel more stressed and unhappy than before he had started. It wasn't just that he had been putting these things off, but that there were no real answers to the questions that haunted his mind, instead, only a labyrinth of choices, options, and a sense of recursion to them - just like chess, one did not play the game by planning out their next move, but also by considering what lay ahead, what the other player might do, and so on and so forth, with an ultimate set of goals to lead one's choices and help determine the best option. Which, in and of itself, was another part of the problem: he had no goals. As a child, he had been encouraged to pick up a trade, to find a reputable line of work, to discover his calling, to be all that he could be. His footsteps crunched in the snow and he felt the sting of a snow ball here and there, but mostly he ignored them, instead, trudging along at as fast a walking pace as he could manage. Several pummels later, he found himself inside the crystalline halls, the structure having an ominous vibe that accompanied it's eerie glow. His pace now slowed, his feet dragging at a glacial pace, almost as if laden with a sense of reluctance. He had been brought up to believe all of this religious stuff, deeply so, even intertwining it not into a ritualistic task performed once in a while, but into every task, every word, every breath. His head jerked up for a moment in panic as he realized that the speech he had so carefully decided on was not enough to save a soul like his. His veins pounded with anxiety, and his head even turned to gaze upon the route he had entered Xanth's structure. Slowly, his thigh jutted out, and then, at the same creeping pace, his calf followed, met the ground, and formed a step. It was one of many. When he felt satisfied he was close enough, he bowed to pray. "Xanth, please accept this offering, even though I am not even worthy enough to give it. Even though it is nothing compared to how great you are and ... sorry.", he cut himself off abruptly, his words mere whispers. Hunching down, he removed his sandals, and with bare feet, he began the dance. His heart pounded in his chest so hard it felt as if it might break free and fly away. As the adrenaline coursed through his veins, he felt liberated, free, and forgiven. But he knew it was only a trap. As soon as the sweat subsided it's steady drip down his skin, as soon as the chemicals in his blood returned to normal, he would feel the same: guilty. His hands quivering from exertion, he bowed to pray once more. "Xanth, all I ask is that you might forgive me. I know I am a bad person, but I try not to be. I know how.... what... my family... and my people... please forgive me Xanth. I don't have it in me to fulfill their needs and expectations. I'm a coward. A filthy, rotten, stealing coward. Please forgive me for the balance of wealth that I disturbed. Please forgive me for snuffing out the lives of those innocent elementals. I didn't know they would burn me, and even though they were destroying someone's property, they were not even mine to kill. Please look upon my future endeavors to restore the balance favorably, even though I am a screw-up. And ... ", his hushed whispers that didn't match his moving lips drew silent as a small cough turned into tears. He remained bent over for a few moments, a tear daunting his cheek in a steady drip, until at last another forced cough mixed with a sniffle and he quickly wiped his tears away. He turned and padded out, the snowballs once again slamming into his chest and head once outside, but he did not bother to look up, but instead took each blow. "May Xanth live and prosper.", he mouthed into the open air, remembering that he hadn't properly closed his prayer.

There's a tradition of presents that goes like this, and I'm tempted to use it. 4 presents exactly:
- something you want, something you need, something to wear, something to read

But I like these ideas better:
- something sucky (ex, a lump of coal)
- something broken (ex, half of a worthless coin)
- something inappropriate (ex, women's fingernail polish)
- something near the end of it's use (ex, elderly, arthritic carsers hound)
- something useless (a blessed, slotted, twice-upgraded strand of pubic hair )

(Don't take the suggestions as me personally trolling or making fun of Xanth, I just thought it would be humorous...)

[Jericho]

Jericho was not a believer, but nor was he a non-believer. He'd been around enough to know there were things in Elysia that couldn't be explained, and the grotto that appeared in Alexandria on a yearly basis was one of them. (Well, it could be explained, he supposed, if he really put his mind to it, but he couldn't quite wrap his head around how anyone could erect such a complex structure overnight, and maintain the kind of temperatures required to keep the ice frozen in the summer heat — not to mention how the snowmen were puppeteered!)

His curiosity was not often enough to bring him away from his home to visit the grotto. In years past, he usually forgot about it until it was too late anyway. This year, he just happened to be in Alexshire on business, and it was hard to forget about Xanthmas when the grotto was right in front of him. He'd stopped mid-step when a snowball splattered squarely in the centre of his back — ruining a perfectly good suit again! — and turned to glare over the rim of his sunglasses at the culprit. Unaffected by the animonstrosity's return sneer or the wonder of such a creation (or, perhaps, he was a little affected by a teeny tiny speck of awe), Jericho had been all set to move on, now in a hurry to get back to Hesia so he could trade his icy jacket for a fresh one.

Rusty had other ideas, and it was hard for even Jericho to deny the ugly man-child a visit to an attraction apparently designed just for him — or a million other children. Jeri could easily have agreed to wait on the pavement opposite the monstrous maze, but without quite understanding how, he soon found himself slipping and sliding along the labyrinthine tunnels behind his bodyguards. Nin seemed as unimpressed as he was, but Jeri couldn't tell without poking around in his brain if his disinterest was real or just a lack of expression.

Even he was somewhat moved by the sight of so many gift-boxed presents tucked under the splendorous tree. However, his expression was one of grief rather than excitement: What a waste! Still, he knew better than to try taking the job lot, and again without even quite knowing how, he found himself back on the pavement heading in the direction they'd been going before the snowman distracted him, a box tucked under his arm.

Pausing for just a moment, his foot once more in mid-step, Jericho pondered the situation for the briefest of moments. He supposed it didn't matter exactly how it had all happened, and since in his enthusiasm Rusty had ensured that all three of them had gifts, it didn't really matter that for once the simple-minded Therian had taken charge.

With a shrug, Jericho continued about his day as if nothing significant had happened.

[Xanth]

In the second week of Xanthmas, She gave with seasonal cheer:

To Aria: A leather-bound book engraved with the title, in gilded lettering, "Gemstones & Minerals". It is a small compendium of geological features marking the best locations and practises for harvesting and mining various crystals, precious gems and metals.

To Erasmos: A bell jar roughly six inches in diameter and nine inches tall, secured onto a round redwood plinth — which is topped by a thin plate of metal — by brass knobs. Inside the jar is a living terrarium with a thick chunk of rough-barked wood as the central piece surrounded by various small greenery. Inside, hidden among the foliage, is an audire weevil.

To Jericho: A new pair of leather loafers.

[Kiel]

Laughing shadowkin were like... like... way creepy, man, for sers. Especially when they were laughing at him because he was too slow to dodge a snowball that had, like, totally ripped his legs out from under him and splatted him on his back on the cold, wet ice. The snowman who caught him had bounded out of an off-shoot of the mazey tunnels to pelt him up close and personal — and he'd brought friends.

It was kinda like being tickled by all his siblings at once. He'd curled up into a foetal position with his hands flapping uselessly to ward the snowballs away, but giggled his head off the whole time. He couldn't say he enjoyed the experience, but when they finally let him up, his face was flushed and his eyes over-bright with giddy excitement. And Shane was rolling on her once-fluffy and now scraggly back with all four paws in the air, grey-mauve belly trembling and her tail lashing. Kiel didn't need the Chosen bond to know she was laughing at him; he pounced at her, his arms snapping around her as she twisted to her feet to escape, and he rubbed what was left of the snowballs into her fur as payback.

“Wahahahaha, who's laughing now, hahahaha?” She squirmed out of his grasp and turned to bat his face with a cold, wet paw, her claws sheathed and the pad of her foot soft against his cheek. “All right, all right, I'm up, I'm up!” As he hopped to his feet, he wiggled his fingers at her wickedly and she dashed off into the maze, nosing around for the throne room. Kiel giggled and trotted after her, shaking out the last of the snow and wary for more snowmen. “I'm comin' to getcha!”

[Aella]

Aella had never made the pilgrimage to Xanth's statue and had only recently wandered upon New Alexandria, so every meal savored, every aroma discovered, every little thing seen or touched
or heard was a fresh experience. She spoke to Xanth every day in her prayers, and did not feel as if she could give anything worthwhile that she had not already given in her day to day affairs, so Xanthmas was much an afterthought. Her time in New Alexandria shortly impressed upon her the majesty of the event, however; when she flitted between every restaurant in the city, spending hard-earned coin on a myriad of delectable desserts shimmering with sugar crystals or gleaming with rich syrups, at each and every place Xanthmas was the topic of conversation. She ended up absorbing all the fervor just as she had absorbed all the fructose: in dangerous quantities.

Aella had grand ideas for what she would make as her gift to Xanth, though she soon realized her forge was inaccessible and most of her gift ideas were thrown out the proverbial window. She racked her brain for days, becoming frantic as the time grew near, when she came across inspiration in the flaky crust of a lemon tart. She impressed upon a young married couple (with much swaying of the hips and misplaced clothes) to let her borrow their kitchen, and she locked herself away with her ingredients (really, the ingredients were theirs, given to her free of charge; perhaps she had overdone it) and set to methodically crazed work. She did not know the recipe of that particular lemon tart that had spurned her interest, but her memory for taste was as clear as the lemon-tangerine-raspberry first dawn of spring. She battled day and night against the staunchest foes; neither capricious flour, nor unruly rollerpin, nor loqacious stomach could hamper her ambition. On the rare occasions that her benefactors chanced upon seeing her, she appeared ghastly, covered thoroughly in an amalgamation of flour and baking powder, cinnamon and allspice, cardamom and star anise. Her visage was such that her visitors seldom lingered fearing some morbid reprisal.

They were surprised then when she came out radiant and beaming and all smiles, her bronze skin a healthy glow, her white linen dress immaculate, a big wrapped package craddled in her diminutive arms. She bounced happily over to them, gave each lingering kisses upon the lips that left them both stunned and blushing and darting furtive glances at each other for approval, then as quick as that she was on her merry way.

As she entered the mysterious ice structure admist the summer in Alexandria where the quadrangle had been, the cooler air currents caressed her bare flesh like an amorous lover. Her skin pricked in response, her little hairs stood on end, and she couldn't help but succumb to a shiver that coursed through her from head to toe. It may have been some magic of this place instead of the cold, for she was well accustomed to it in the Dusky Mountains; either way the effect was beyond her control and she gave in to it wholly. Her bare feet crunched in the snow and led her through ice mazes and copses of deciduous lilac chiolen, her eyes wide saucers basking in the glory of every little thing, of the warmth and majesty and tapestry of light about dancing about her.

The snowball exploded at her right hip, causing her to sway and nearly lose her precious cargo. Aella was startled, but then burst into a fit of uncontrollable mirth, crouching low like a predator with arms wrapped protectively around her gift and warily eyeing the marionetted snowmen summoned into existence at both her sides. She was lightly caked in snow now, grinning mischieviously, the cold exciting her and warming her all at once. With full concentration she managed to jerk to her left, avoiding what would have been a snowball to her chest, only to be hit solidly with one on her rear. She shrieked and grabbed a ball of soft snow in her right hand, bound it up as best she could whilst holding something else, then gave it an earnest throw at the one that got her bum. She managed to score a hit. A spattering of white fluff like a pillowy cloud appeared on the snowman's winter garb, and he seemed to bow to her and accept defeat. She stuck her tongue out and quickly ducked further into the maze to avoid any snowy retort.

Aella wriggled her toes in the snow, letting the sensation permeate her, walking as if in a dream, not fully conscious. She wound up at the feet of the statue, towering over her like a lilac colossus. She had seen it from outside, but standing this close felt intimately personal. She could not take her eyes off of Xanth and for some time gazed up at her, her cheeks warm and reddened, her breath cool and curling in spiralling wisps on its journey to the heavens above.

She struggled for words, feeling warm.

She got on her knees and set her gift infront of her, unwrapping it with maternal care. Within was a plate like any other, though perhaps whiter than average, cleaner than average, and with a sense of simplicity that spoke volumes. In the center of the dish was a solitary lemon tart.

Its crust was rounded, shaped as a small bowl, and flaky. It seemed delicate, that the lightest touch would make a mess. The center of the pastry was filled with silky orange-yellow cream, a brilliant sunrise. Crystals of sugar adorned the top, scattered about here and there, shimmering in the Neme-light. A lemon syrup crested the tart, of consistancy a bit more malleable than fresh honey, laid in the pattern of a small butterfly. The pattern was intricately and done with uncharacteristic care. Finely powdered sugar was arranged around the tart atop the dish and looked much like the first semblances of snow, and at even segments along the edge of the plate were a rainbow of fruit glazes, tiny drops, a myriad of baubles on a tree, will of the wisps colored in every palette encircling the treat, a magic circle inscribed in snow and sugar.

Aella looked at it and bit her lip, then turned her gaze to the statue of Xanth, her creator and protector.

She felt the words slow and clumsy, but she uttered them all the same:

"Thank you for this life you have given me. It may not seem like much, but I hope you will enjoy this. I made it for you. It is is my favorite." She paused, then added shyly. "I figured that a Goddess has to eat too..."

Aella pushed herself upright, then stood still for some time. The snow swirled about her like a warm scarf, and every little thing seemed interconnected.


OOC: As for gift ideas, Aella would enjoy some inspiration for a masterpiece, some wisdom or experience or personal token of Xanth, or perhaps a bit of love. She likes things that she can use, but does not find herself bound to material objects as much as others.

[Xanth]

In the third week of Xanthmas, She gave with seasonal cheer:

To Aella: A redwood lalaith shaped like a sheathed wakizashi. The holes for playing are on the broad side of the "blade", with the mouthpiece embedded in the "pommel". Sylvan murals have been Shaped into the wood and a red ribbon tied to the base of the hilt.

To Kiel: A tiny emerald.

[Lazuli]

Lazuli could not believe how busy her year had been. There was once a time when she did little else than float around in New Alexandria or elsewhere, dancing with fountain water or exploring the cobblestone streets or painting with a great, calm passion. She still painted. Actually, she painted a lot. Colormints had grown in audience even more so than before, and the nyad's clients, while mostly concentrated in Alexshire, were expanding to greater reaches of Elysia. Word traveled fast it seems, especially in the mouths of wealthier clients, and she had already received many letters from strangers in far away places expressing their desire for possible future commissions. It made her happy. She felt enterprising. And that was fun.

The nymph as always attributed part of her good fortune to fair blessings from the Goddess, and she arrived at the Grotto with a sparkly enthusiasm. How was it that the place managed to look lovelier every year? Only the squeak from a certain cheefle hidden within her jacket prompted her to quickly avoid the barrage of snowballs, compliments of the Grotto's guardian snowmen.

Lazuli wandered through the maze with an excited but serene pace, allowing herself to take random turns at whim, because well, it made things more fun. It also made her pleasantly surprised when a passage led her straight to the ice throne, shimmering there in all its silvery white glory. She must have come a bit late this year, because the space around the throne was practically overflowing with people's tributes and gifts alike. Lazuli bowed down to the empty throne, giving a silent prayer for her family in the Fae, for her friends, Nicolay, Elysia, and all fair endeavors. She didn't even notice when Chiko took the opportunity to jump out of her jacket and bound onto the ice throne, where he sat peeking around curiously. After she finished praying, Lazuli carefully maneuvered her way to the spruce, because she had made a very special gift this year. She reached into her bag and pulled out an object that could fit in one's palm. It was a small red dragon, its body molded from clay and painted over and glazed so that it held a shimmery hue. A deep green wreath of pines hung around his neck like a medallion. His elegant crimson wings were slightly tucked in, and a very thin silver string was attached in a loop on his back. The nymph's handiwork shone in all the tiny details. Lazuli hung the homemade ornament onto an empty branch of the spruce closest to the throne.

She stepped back merrily to admire her work one last time. “Think she'll like that, Chiko?” Lazuli asked. Chiko tilted his head in response, still perched on the throne. When Lazuli extended her hand to him, he ignored her and instead ran down to sprawl on top of a large giftbox with a great red bow, on which he bounced a couple of times, eyeing Lazuli intently.

Lazuli laughed. “Okay! I guess that one is mine, then.” She picked up the box with Chiko on top of it, and went along her way humming a jolly Christmas song that Nic had taught her.

[Aiden]

Ducking from a snowball that would have otherwise hit him in the forehead, Aiden rushed madly past a gap in the walls to hide behind what seemed to be a safe wall. Preceding a rush of wind, a boy dove toward the space beside Aiden and. “Are you sure you know where you're going?” The speaker was a few years past adolescence and wrapped in puffiest jacket that Aiden has seen during the season.

“Uh..the walls shift overnight!” Aiden wasn't sure if that was actually true, but the grotto already had so many rumors and theories revolving around it, surely one more wouldn't hurt—especially if were made to excuse Aiden's forgetfulness. Seeing Edwin's smirk and knowing cross-of-the-arms, however, it was clear that neither therian believed in Aiden's cover-up. With a chuckle and a tug at his cousin's scarf, the Alexandrian guardsman shook his head. “Really though, you can't expect me to memorize the path of a maze. Keep up, unless you want a snowball in our face!” Xanth, please let that happen.

Edwin did end up with a snowball in his face, and it was when Aiden unwittingly led the both of them through a snowman ambush. In the moments after the barrage of snowballs, Aiden could not stop laughing at his cousin's flabbergasted expression, even though he himself was covered with clumps of snow. After one dead-in and several snowball fights later, the two of them finally reached the grotto where Xanth had placed her famous empty throne and piles and piles of gifts. As Edwin ran toward the throne, Aiden strolled slowly to stop a few yards behind his cousin. Edwin had always been the more religious of everyone in their family, so Aiden stayed back and let his cousin pray in peace.

Meanwhile, Aiden bowed his head and thought of a shorter prayer. “Xanth, thank you for taking care of my family this year. Please take good care of my family in the next year as well.” With his prayers done, Aiden stuffed both hands into the pockets of his jeans, and he glanced with casual amusement at the other visitors of the grotto. After a while, Edwin finally deposited his gift to Xanth before walking toward the towering spruce and gifts. Instead of following his cousin, Aiden walked toward the thrones to lay out his gift as well—a blue-glazed clay ocarina that he'd picked up from his last visit to Hesia.

When Aiden found Edwin around the other side of the spruce, his cousin was looking closely into one of the floating baubles, brows slightly furrowed. “Edwin?”

Jerking as if startled, Edwin's featured smoothed and he rubbed at his nose sheepishly. “Sorry, I guess those rumors about the ornaments are true.” As Aiden's attention flickered to the bauble that Edwin had been looking at, he saw a brief glimpse of an angry Joanne, his aunt and Edwin's mother, before the vision disappeared.

Shaking his head in attempt to clear the image, Aiden sighed before putting a hand on his cousin's shoulder and led him toward a spectacularly tall pile of gifts. “Well, let's worry about Joanne later. Here's what you came for.”

After they picked their boxes, the two cousins began their eventful trek back through the mazes, chatting all the way. “How's school going? Bored with those crystals yet?”

“As if! Prof's teaching about Kallia crystal tuning. Like, COM frequencies and how to jumble and mix your own super secret frequency! Yeah, they've got people working in the Apalis, and...”

[Zozeko]

Worst. Day. Ever.

When the Artega pulled into the Espur Harbour, her belly low in the water with a full hold (legit, for once), Zozeko's mind had been farthest from his family as it could possibly get without transporting it to Zanarya. Luc had sent Malik off on some errand and he had thought himself free of the responsibilities of fatherhood for the first time in weeks — yet there, on the dock awaiting his arrival, was Layla with their three youngest.

Nuri clutched at his mother's hips, peeking shyly through the bustling dock workers. Zahrah stood to Layla's left, Rasha in her arms and chubby legs wrapped around her waist. It took Zozeko a moment to remember that she was only forty-eight years old; the Djan was calm, unruffled by the shouts and yells of the dockers or the rough-and-ready language of the sailors — or even the toddler hands yanking on her disgustingly short hair.

Before he could chastise his wife for allowing their daughter to cut her hair so short, Malik bounded up to the trio and waved him over with an excitement he hadn't seen in the boy in years. The boy took Rasha from Zahrah's arms with an eagerness unsuited for a Zanaryan male, and so Zozeko huffed and crossed his arms.

“Be at ease, husband.” Layla rested a palm against his forearm to balance her weight so she could reach up to place a soft kiss on his cheek. “He is home sick.” Zozeko grunted, a non-committal sound to hide the fact that he was torn between displeasure at their unexpected visit, and the natural pride of a man who had procured four sons. He would make sure Layla knew of his disapproval of Zahrah's hair style later, but for now was put at ease by the reminder that Rasha, at least, had plenty of time to make him proud.

“Would you like to hold your daughter, Papa?” Four pairs of eyes looked at him expectantly, the fifth busy with her attempts to rip out chunks of Malik's hair. Zozeko waved the offer away, and merely said, “Later.”

---

"Later" turned out to be as they approached Xanth's Statue in Alexandria. Zozeko was unsure quite how he had been persuaded into making the journey through the portal, but his wife had insisted that they should pay their respects this year. “We have been blessed with six children who are, to a one, healthy and happy.” Layla had avoided looking at Malik as she said this, but he had been better behaved since he settled into life aboard ship. And, though Zozeko himself had never really put much thought into the existence of Xanth or the stories of their Creation, Layla had always been more given to flights of fancy.

Very much aware that he could not refuse her request to visit the Grotto without appearing to be a brute, Zozeko had, after only a few moments of arguing, agreed to escort her there. It had taken very little effort to waltz by the animated snowmen, their missiles splatting white against his air shield before sliding harmlessly to the ground. Indeed, the toughest part — aside from finding their way through that ridiculous maze — had been when Layla handed him their youngest daughter with no room for argument.

Rasha was now chewing on his braid while her mother kneeled before the ice throne to give thanks. Nuri and Zahrah were cooing over the baubles, calling each other to "Look, look at this one!" while Malik stood, ever so well-behaved — what was he after? — at his father's side.

Indifferent to it all, Zozeko attempted to pry his hair from his daughter's grasp yet again, and then told his son to "do something". Malik smirked, tapped the end of Zeko's quarterstaff — well, Zozeko couldn't very well carry it with Rasha taking up both arms — against the ice at their feet to draw his baby sister's attention, and then dangled and twirled the gold stars in her face so she tried to grab those instead. “I meant,” Zozeko sighed in Zanaryan, “for you to take her from me.” Nevertheless, his burden was eased now that his scalp was free to relax.

“Are you done yet, woman?” Layla's head remained bowed a moment more, then she nodded and used Nuri's hand to rise to her feet with the grace expected of a wife. “Then, let us leave this place.” And not a moment too soon.

[Xanth]

In the fourth and final week of Xanthmas, She gave with seasonal cheer:

To Lazuli: A pendant made from resin. It is a cheefle identical to Chiko.

To Aiden: A small box-within-a-box, wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine. The gift tag reads: "Herein lies a clue." However, the only thing inside is a small tammish torte decorated with two thin chocolate cat heads.

To Zozeko: A wood-framed photograph of every member of his family (barring himself) standing together as one unit, their familiar faces wreathed in smiles.

---

And that's it for Xanthmas for another year. I hope you all liked your presents (and if not, tough it's totally not my fault!), and Xanth thanks everyone for their prayers and well wishes.

Happy New Year!