22. itty bitty christmas

[orderfromchaos]

[Day one, text + voice]

9 1 1

Hello? Someone took my parents. And my house.


[Day two, spam]

[Did six-year-old Dillon find tiny old roller skates in the back of his closet? Yes he did. He is now about to crash into you, probably.]


[Day three, video]

[A tiny redhead is absolutely swimming in a vaguely blasphemous christmas sweater. He's in the chapel, and he sings Away in a Manger in a clear, lovely soprano. He bites his lip for a moment afterward.]

Are we going to have a tree? Will someone else come light candles? I'm not supposed to play with fire.


[Day three, spam]

[Find Dillon with excessive candy canes hooked into the collar of his oversized sweater, trailing tinsel, attempting to stack a chair on top of a ladder so that he can hang up mistletoe and wreaths almost as big as he is.]


[OOC: replies will come from inateacup]

Comments

[naturalizing]

We should do the candles first. Then find my sweater.

[inateacup]

Okay! The chapel is up on the roof. I'll wait for you.

[naturalizing]

[She's learned the layout of this place well by now and finds the chapel in no time, poking her head in the door and looking for the ugliest sweater known to man.]

Hello?

[inateacup]

[And lo, there it as, as he pops up out of the pews where he's kneeling backward on one of the seats and waves.]

Hi!

[naturalizing]

Hi. I'm Abigail.

[She comes closer, inspecting him shrewdly as she approaches, then sits down on the pew next to him. Graciously:] Your sweater looks better from close up.

[inateacup]

I like that it's green.

I'm Dillon. D'you have a favorite color? Maybe your sweater's in that!

[naturalizing]

I like green, too. But a darker green than that. Like forests when it's raining.

Do they make sweaters in that color?

[inateacup]

They have to!

[Cause, like, she deserves it. Obviously.]

[naturalizing]

Oh.

[She smiles warmly at that, pleased. Then she looks up to the altar.]

Where are all the candles we have to light? Or I have to light.

[inateacup]

Over by the side. Here.

[He shows her, frowns a little, not sure what she can light them with.]

[naturalizing]

[Not to worry, Dillon, she got some matches from the kitchen. She brings them out now with a flourish.]

You stay clear. You're not supposed to play with fire.

[She lights the candles with pretty much a u_u!! face.]

[inateacup]

[He scurries a few steps back and peers in fascination. Does he clap? It would be weird to clap in church. He is watching with totally impressed eyes, though.]

Do you get to light candles a lot?

[naturalizing]

At dinner sometimes. It's one of my responsibilities.

[She pronounces responsibilities very precisely.]

Why can't you light them?