The last gift has been officially posted, so I want to thank everyone again for another fantastic year of the event! Everyone put in great effort into their presents, and I know your Secret Santas were very surprised!
This is the end of the event until December, so please keep a lookout for new information later in the year.
Thank you for another great year of Santa-ing! And an early Happy Spring Thanksgiving/Valentines to those who will celebrate it!
All submissions have now been posted, with the exception of one which will be arriving late (with legitimate excuse)! It will be posted as soon as it arrives, so to the person waiting, don’t worry, it will come.
To everyone, thank you for participating. This event was a lot of fun, as usual! I loved seeing everyone’s wonderful art and writing! Hopefully next year, this event will happen on time (I will try my best- time zones are hard).
Thank you again and I hope it’s a happy year for everyone!
It was difficult, at times, to find something to write.
Cecilia sat down at a small makeshift desk at the inn, tapping her pen against a small piece of stationery. The only words written were the small start of the letter, not even getting into the real meat of things:
“Dear Russell…”
Since Cecilia left to start her own life and become a maid at the De Sainte-Coquille manor, it had gotten more and more difficult to think of things to write. The first few months were easy, as there were so many things she saw that were new and exciting. But now…it was difficult. When there wasn’t anything interesting going on in town, it was hard to think of anything to write him. Another conversation with Jake, another long day at the manor (though she did enjoy her work as a maid very much), and another notch on her usual routine. When there wasn’t the occasional visitor at the manor, it just left Cecilia with a bunch of bland words to tell her adoptive father. The standard ‘how are you’s and ‘I’ve been fine, thank you’s.
She sighed, setting down her pen and letting it roll across the desk, her head resting on the palm of her hand. She promised to write him frequently, but how was she going to do that at this rate?
Cecilia dearly missed him, but she was afraid that she would just bore him with a letter nowadays.
Her eyes darted to the clock, and she sighed, standing up. It was about time for her to leave for the manor. She guessed that he wouldn’t be getting a letter that day. Or the next, if things kept going this way.
–
“Do they usually all order separate things? Rich people are such a pain,” a hushed chuckle, spoken from behind. Cecilia’s face flustered up, turning her head slightly and trying not to look obvious to the two De Sainte-Coquilles standing on the stairwell.
“Alicia! They’ll hear you,” she spoke.
“I don’t care if they do,” Alicia spoke at a higher volume now, turning to look at her with an impish look on her face, “You must be quite the cook to handle all that at once.”
Cecilia looked away, a bit bashful about the compliment, still keeping her voice low, “I’ve gotten used to it, that’s all. Did you need something today, Alicia?”
“I have a door-to-door fortune telling service. Rosalind is…”
Cecilia tuned out of Alicia’s words when she saw an unfamiliar man entering the manor, a curious look about his face. She tilted her head, trying to get a better look at him. Red hair, messy with a blue bandana around it. And completely unfamiliar.
Yet…familiar all the same.
“Cecilia?”
Her eyes snapped right back to Alicia, who was looking quite displeased. Cecilia smiled apologetically, nodding her head towards the new man standing in the doorway. Alicia looked back, smiling curiously, then wandering up the stairs to where Rosalind stood.
Well, she would need to greet him, like a proper maid needed to.
“Hi there!” Cecilia paused, wondering if that sounded too informal, “I’m Ceci.”
Wait. Why did she introduce herself that way? She hadn’t called herself Ceci in ages, not since she lived in Kardia.
Maybe she missed home more than she thought.
“I-I mean Cecilia,” she quickly corrected, hands reaching up to play with a strand of her hair, “Ceci was how I used to pronounce my name when I was little…” She drifted off, shutting herself up before she continued more. She was saying that much to someone who just walked in?
However, the man smiled politely at her, not all too bothered at all, “I’m Kyle. It’s nice to meet you, Cecilia.”
“You’re not from around here, are you?” Cecilia asked, tilting her head curiously.
He shook his head, expression a bit sad, “No, I’m working on Mana’s farm.”
Working on Mana’s farm? She didn’t realize that they were hiring a worker. She paused, looking at him more carefully. For some reason…he seemed just like him…when he first came to Kardia…
“You know, you remind me of Raguna…”
–
“Dear Russell…”
Cecilia sat at her desk again after a long day at the manor. It was an ordinary day as usual…aside from the appearance of the man named Kyle.
Seeing Kyle walk around not really knowing what to do with himself, it reminded her of her childhood. Getting lost in caves, getting rescued on occasion. She wondered how Raguna was doing, ever since he moved away to Trampoli. It had been so long since then. She wondered if he would even recognize her if she saw him again. She chuckled before looking back at the unwritten letter on her desk.
Maybe…she could think of something to write now. She could write about the past. Of how much she missed her father. Ask about how everyone was doing.
Toes dipping into cool, clear water; each dip creates new ripples that enlarges until they dissipate in the lake.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
With a final sigh of contentment, the young pair retract their feet from the water and stand together on the wooden dock. Soft, tanned hands belonging to a brown-haired girl find themselves grasping the hands of another boy her own age. She blinks and takes a hesitant step closer.
There’s hardly any space between them. In turn, she turns her gaze upwards and meets the dark green eyes looking down at her.
Stretching up on toes to close the gap, eyelids flutter closed as lips meet.
Fireworks.
***
“CAM!”
The loud voice jerks Cam from his dream, the memory of it already unravelling as he rubs sleep from his eyes. The source of the voice is Ash, his childhood best friend. The two of them were as different as two boys could possibly be, but they loved each other nonetheless.
His light-haired friend grins down at Cam, still struggling to wake up: “you’re seriously still asleep? Lillian is coming by the barns today for some lessons on chicken care! You promised you’d be there!”
Was that today? Shit. Cam started to scramble out of bed as Ash ran over to his dresser and grabbed an outfit for the day. Throwing the selected clothing at Cam, he laughed and informed him that there would be no purple hat today. Ash’s reasoning? “How can she see your soulful eyes with that damn thing blocking her view?”
That last part was said as a tease, but Cam sighed at his friend’s obvious attempt at matchmaking. This wasn’t the first time Ash had tried to set his friend up with a girl—though usually they were summer guests, not residents.
As he quickly dressed himself and brushed his teeth, Cam couldn’t help but wonder when the matchmaking efforts would stop. He’d long-since resigned himself to a quiet life, and frankly, as long as he had good friends at his side, being single wasn’t a death-sentence.
Stepping outside, the two young men began to speed-walk to Ash’s barn across town—it wasn’t a far walk by any means, but they didn’t want to make Lillian wait for them.
Cam had seen her before, and even had brief conversations as she stopped by his flower stall, though never to purchase anything. Somehow, Lillian only ever seemed interested in conversation, and frequently engaged him in in-depth discussions about the meanings of each flower. As much as he hated to admit it, he’d come to enjoy her frequent visits, though now that the planting season was in full swing, he didn’t see her as much.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity of speed-walking, they arrived at the pasture connected to Ash’s coop. Lillian was there, absentmindedly twirling a daisy between her fingers. Cam couldn’t help but slow his pace as he admired her thoughtful gaze, the gentle biting of her lower lip as she carefully considered the life in her hands.
As they finally reached Lillian, she lifted her head and softly smiled at the two of them. “Good morning!” she cheerfully greeted them before turning to and approaching Cam. She held the small flower out to him and asked “what do daisies mean, Cam?”
God, she’s cute. Wait. Cute? When did that enter my vocabulary?
He stood there for a few moments, struggling to process his own thoughts before he finally blinked and cleared his throat, mumbling “purity, new beginnings, and sometimes true love.”
Lillian’s eyes slowly lowered into a squint as she giggled “it’s incredible how much you know about flowers! I always learn something new when we talk. I miss our conversations, actually.”
She does?
Before he had a chance to respond, Lillian continued chattering on, seemingly oblivious to the strange tightening in his chest she was causing.
Fortunately, Ash jumped into the conversation, and offered to lead everyone into the barn. But as she turned to follow the farmer, Cam could’ve sworn that Lillian’s hand had brushed his own. He stood and watched them continue across the pasture, unsure if he was capable of moving his legs—what was going on? He’d never been affected like this by a girl before, much less one he’d only known for six months.
Sighing and finally following his friends, deep down, he knew what was happening. There wasn’t a single thing about Lillian he hadn’t admired at some point or another: the sheer courage it took to leave home and start a farm alone, the strength she’d developed through her long hours of tending to crops and caring for cattle, and yet the way she absolutely shined when she smiled or laughed or… did anything, really. Lillian was brave, and adventurous, and intelligent, and beautiful.
Goddammit.
***
It had been five months since they’d met in Ash’s pasture, almost one year since Lillian had moved to Bluebell. The three of them had taken to exploring the mountain together, climbing over rocks, finding treasures and shortcuts, fishing, and listening to Cam lecture them about flowers.
This time, however, Ash had backed out at the last minute—a move very unlike him. All Cam knew was that he’d finally mentioned that he might have a tinything for Lillian, and the next thing he knew, Ash had left them alone.
The fall was coming to an end, and Cam and Lillian were trekking to the mountain top so they could see tonight’s meteor shower. Despite their warm clothes, however, the two shivered the whole way up until finally, at the top, Lillian suggested they find shelter in one of the old hollowed-out tree trunks and watched the shower from there.
As they set up blankets and ensured they could still see the stars from their spot, Cam noticed what appeared to be a wooden frame with something inside it peeking out from Lillian’s rucksack.
He pointed at it “what do you have there?” Only to be met with Lillian quickly shoving it back into her bag and reddening immensely.
She looked away and murmured “I’ll show you later. Let’s finish getting set up”
Cam furrowed her brows in confusion—why was everyone acting weird—before he busied himself with the final touches.
Before long, they were settled and the meteors were falling. Cam felt as though his heart was about to beat out of his own chest as Lillian inched closer and leaned her head on his shoulder.
Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck she’s so cute.
Oh god, I want to kiss her.
As if some kind of spell had been cast over the moment, with the shining sky and warm tree trunk, Cam tentatively reached his fingers over to hers, and nearly gasped as she intertwined them.
Neither of them spoke for a few moments, each taking in what was happening until finally, Lillian broke the silence. “I brought you something.”
He watched as she rummaged through her bag, marveling at what had just happened. After a few minutes passed, she turned back to him, clutching the wooden frame. Inside was a photo of the day she had come with him and Ash on one of their fishing trips. Somehow, Lillian and Cam had fallen into the creek, and Ash had captured the moment the two of them turned to each other and burst out laughing.
Beside the photo were pressed flowers in the frame as well—“daisies,” he breathed.
Lillian blushed again and ran her free hand through her hair, whispering “you said that sometimes they meant true love. I thought it was fitting.”
He smiled at her.
She smiled at him.
Breaths slowed, fingers brushed shoulders and cheeks as the two embraced under the stars.
She watched the procession leave the Temple, a bright smile on her face as she waved along with the rest of the townsfolk. The maid turned away, presumably to return to her chores, before the procession was quite out of sight. She couldn’t bear to watch, knowing the fate that awaited the tall young man of whom she’d become oddly fond over the last several months.
After all, that was the point; the young man known as Dylas was being escorted to the Water Temple for the last time, where he would become the next in what seemed to be turning into a line of Guardians, meant to prolong Lady Ventuswill’s time on their world. He’d never paid much attention to her, even when she was cleaning his room around him. No great task; Dylas didn’t have much in the way of belongings, and he was a neat person to begin with. She didn’t mind making her way out to the small cottage where he had lived for the last several years to clean. When he was there, he’d largely ignored her, though he’d spent most of his spare time either fishing or visiting with the Divine Dragon.
Well, there would be no more cleaning up after him, Eliza sighed to herself as she retreated to the castle. Wordlessly she retrieved her broom and began to sweep the square, empty now that the majority of the town had left to escort the new Guardian to his final resting place.
It was a terrible shame, really; he was a very attractive youth, and not at all a bad sort, if a bit sullen. Shy, she figured, and not very sure of himself – small wonder, with the life he’d lead!
She stopped to look in on Lady Ventuswill on her way to return the broom; the Divine Dragon had been looking more than a little peaked in recent years, and Eliza was as concerned as the rest of the town. Perhaps more, as she was one of the few with whom Venti (as the dragon liked to be called) sometimes let down her guard. Small wonder, Eliza often felt; no one paid much attention to little old maids who were focused on their work!
She remembered the first time it had happened; she had been working in the castle for nearly three years.
“It… It’s only I… I mean me… Eliza… The maid,” the young human stammered out. “Forgive me, Lady Ventuswill! I was… I was cleaning, in the corner…”
“Oh! It’s you… I’ve seen you here before. Your name is Eliza, is that right?” The stentorian voice was back, she noticed.
“That is right, Your Ladyship. And… if you like, I can bring you some pancakes,” she said, startling herself.
They both blinked at her audacity, and then the dragon -- much to Eliza’s suprise -- had laughed. “If you bring me pancakes right now,” she said in the same gentle tone she’d used before, “you can call me Venti.”
Still in a state of mild shock, Eliza had run to fetch pancakes for the Native Dragon -- who had promptly kept her word… and when the two of them were alone, she’d never used her Formal Voice again.
“Lady Venti, can I bring you anything?”
“No, that’s all right. I just need a little rest, is all,” the Dragon replied, but she wouldn’t meet the maid’s eyes.
They both knew it for a lie; they’d discussed the previous Guardians in the intervening years since that first surprising encounter. In fact, though Dylas had become fast friends with Ventuswill, Eliza herself had also won a place in the heart of the god, though she hadn’t realized until recently just how much that meant until the ceremony had been announced. Dylas had been kept largely in the dark, but Eliza knew something about Leon and Dolce, who had been friends of Venti’s and had made the ultimate sacrifice to keep her alive. She knew that it troubled the Divine Dragon even as it pleased her, and she alone of all those who kept the dragon company knew how much it cost her.
“Would you like me to stay with you for a bit?” Eliza asked, in a gentler voice. Since she had first befriended Ventuswill, the two of them had become comfortable, and as Eliza grew older, she’d taken an almost maternal role with her perenially-young-at-heart friend.
When Ventuswill affected a shrug, Eliza snapped her shoulders together. “I know what you need. Stay right there.”
Ventuswill raised her head, a slightly quizzical look in her eye. For a dragon, her expressions were very easy to read for her human friends; she watched the maid leave and waited, head cocked, until Eliza returned, a plate in her hand, preceded by a particularly tantalizing smell.
“Pancakes!” Though she wasn’t quite perky, Ventuswill’s outlook definitely improved a bit as she accepted the dish gladly, scarfing down Eliza’s offering with gusto. “If anything, I wish I could do something for you!”
Eliza blushed slightly. “Oh, don’t bother about me. I’m fine as I am -- I like helping out. I took the job because I needed it; I kept it because I wanted it. It turns out I enjoy looking after people, and I’m not the shy little flower that first came here! You know they’ve got me teaching the new kids all about how to manage their tasks here, and assigning chores…” She smiled, clearly content. “That’s all I ever wanted from my life, really.”
She retrieved her broom from the corner where she’d propped it before running off to make the pancakes. Folding her hands atop it, she rested her chin on them and sighed contentedly. “I’m not a fancy sort, Venti. I don’t need much in the way of fripperies and furbelows. I just need a purpose and a place, and of course my hat,” she added with a laugh.
Venti joined her; everyone in town knew about Eliza and her hat. For a woman who prided herself on simple tastes, the maid’s one indulgence was a rather extravagantly feathered creation, bright red and utterly at odds with the rest of her tastes. When not in uniform, she dressed rather conservatively, wearing simple trousers as often as skirts. The hat, however, stood out easily enough in any crowd. It was Eliza’s one indulgence, and she loved it, wearing it whenever she was off duty, no matter how formal the occasion was -- or wasn’t.
“Eliza… why have you never married?” Venti asked the question in an offhand manner, trying hard to be nonchalant.
The response was a simple shrug. “I’ve never met the right person, I guess… There’s always been some reason for it not to work out.” Now it was her turn to have a hard time meeting the other’s eyes. “Too not interested, too married, too young...”
Venti’s head turned to the side as she considered, trying to imagine who had captured Eliza’s interest to trouble her so -- for the maid was clearly troubled.
“Oh my -- did you -- were you interested in Dylas?:
Eliza started, just a little bit. “Me? A strapping young man like him? Oh, please. There wouldn’t be any point. Even if he hadn’t been otherwise committed, what would he want with an old thing like me? I’m forty years old, Lady! I’d have no business falling for someone as young as he is…” She waved the notion away with impatience. “No, not that it would have mattered… Of course not. It’s just that the men in town my age aren’t… Well, aren’t available.” She shrugged.
“No, I’m quite set in my ways… I suppose I’m not the marrying sort. I’ll just have to settle for looking after you and the rest of this town to the best of my abilities…”
“Eliza…”
“Stop, stop that right now! I’m hardly unhappy. Yes, I would have loved to have a family… I can’t lie to you, Lady Ventuswill. But it’s no longer the driving need in my existence that it was when I was younger. I’m happy as I am. If I were to meet someone, I wouldn’t chase them away… But I have purpose in my life, and that’s more than most people get to hope for.”
“I wish I could hug you right now,” Venti muttered. “That’s one of the drawbacks to being this big.”
Eliza laughed. “I can hug you, at least,” she said, and did so, embracing the dragon’s foreleg warmly.
“It’s not the same,” Venti grumbled, but she smiled.
“There, it sounds like you’re feeling a bit better. I’m sure you’ll perk up more soon, and I should get back to work.”
“Indeed,” Ventuswill said, raising her head again. “Go on then,” she added dismissively.
They both laughed, and Eliza went back to her chores as promised, but Ventuswill’s gaze turned inward; there wasn’t much she could do for the maid, but she deserved some kind of reward.
The days marched forward, and the seasons changed; Ventuswill recovered from her weakness and Dylas’ visits became a distant memory in the minds of most Selphians. Ventuswill did not forget, however, nor did she forget the conversation she’d had with Eliza that fateful day. The maid proved true to her word, content to run the town’s service sector and cleaning the castle herself every day. Once she was officially assigned to the supervisory post, however, the only change she made was to wear her hat every day, even with her uniform.
The day came when she could no longer fulfill the most strenuous of her duties, but Eliza was content to teach the newcomers their responsibilities and maintain the request board.
Shortly after, Ventuswill summoned her.
“Eliza, you have fulfilled your duties, and so much more, wonderfully over the seventy years since coming to this castle,” Ventuswill began. “I would reward you for all that you have done.”
Eliza sighed, shaking her head. “Don’t be silly, Venti. I’m an old woman. I’ve lived a full and fulfilling life. We both know there’s not much time left in this old body. I’m happy to have lived here, doing what I do. I’m truly content, my Lady.”
Ventuswill fretted. “But I am not! You’re one of the few true friends I’ve had who’s stayed this long…,” she admitted.
“If I could stay with you forever, my old friend, I would… But I’m an old woman, and you’re a Native Dragon.”
“Well… There’s one thing I can do, though it’s not much… But it would allow us to stay friends, though you wouldn’t be able to speak to anyone else unless they were very powerful Earthmates.” She waited until she saw the glint of curiosity in Eliza’s faded eyes. “When your soul departs your body, I can place it in an inanimate object, a vessel of your choosing. You would be able to communicate with me, at least, and any strong Earthmates who might pass by, if you choose.”
Eliza thought about it for a long time. Ventuswill said nothing.
“Well, since I don’t know that I believe what the priests tell us about the afterlife, and I know that the Forest of Beginnings is not for humans, I suppose it can’t be any worse,” Eliza mused aloud. “What about… What about the request board?”
Ventuswill blinked. Of all the objects she’d considered, that hadn’t been the one she’d expected. “I don’t see why not. It would make sense, being that it’s made of Sharance wood; it should last far longer than anything I was thinking about.”
Eliza nodded decisively. “It’s decided then. But… There’s one more thing, Lady Ventuswill…” She raised a trembling hand to brush the feather that dangled jauntily, a nervous habit she’d had since she was young. She hesitated so long that the dragon had to prompt her for her request.
I have received all but three entries (one with a legitimate excuse of illness) so please, if I contacted you, submit your gift ASAP. I will start queuing the gifts from tonight to post over the weekend (or Friday evening, if you’re in that part of the world).
Thanks and I’m looking forward to sharing all the great things you have created!
