nysalogs | ( open ) december catch-all

Who: Thomas Nightingale (

ettersberg) & various
What: piloting, mistletoes, everything else
When: december
Where: thesa, wyver, olympia
Warning(s): none yet

drift compatibility

[ he's flown in planes before, of course — even british wizards had to cross the channel somehow and anyone who'd have suggested broomsticks would have been the laughing stock of the entire folly, because it doesn't work that way. even before the war, he'd travelled as part of the foreign office, sometimes by plane and sometimes not.

no plane he's ever been in can compare to the ship he's in right now, strapped into one of the pilot seats and glancing at the controls in front of him with a somewhat sceptical expression. ]

I'm afraid I'm not quite sure how this is meant to work.

mistletoe

[ nightingale returns to olympia and settles into a routine in as much as he can. it hadn't been close to any holiday period when the world had ended for him, but it seems to be growing colder here and there is an increased air of festivity to everything.

every now and again, nightingale will find himself beneath a mistletoe at the same time as someone else, though never by design. if he notices the plant, he might try to simply ignore it, but if his companion notices as well, he'll speak: ]

Were there any traditions attached to it in your world?

wildcard

[ write your own starter, hit me up at abiosis for one, whatever floats your boat. ]

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[She shakes her head, exhaling softly in irritation at herself.]

It's nothing to do with you, Mr. Nightingale. I simply . . . mm. I've had a lifetime of avoiding men and their supposed cleverness when it comes to mistletoe.

Ah.

[ he mulls that over for a moment. truth is, he can imagine it. he's seen the other inhabitants of the folly, sure in their privilege and superiority, and how they'd treated the female servants, how they'd handled themselves at banquets, how they talked amongst themselves.

not something nightingale had ever been interested in for a variety of reasons. ]

My condolences.

[She shrugs.]

I hardly allowed them to come near.

[She leans back against the doorframe, folding her arms under her chest. They're in public, but this isn't an often used doorway; they won't be blocking anyone for a while.]

Tell me the traditions in your world. Is it simply a kiss?

[ he inclines his head in acknowledgement. ]

A kiss, and to pluck one berry from it. Once there are no more berries, there should be no more kissing. [ a beat. ] At least that was the tradition in my youth. I do think it's changed.

Mm. I was taught you simply had to kiss once, but if you didn't, the lady would be cursed to bad luck.

[She pulls a little face. Who came up with that tradition, she wonders. But . . . she glances up at him, raising one eyebrow.]

Should I risk it, do you think?

That seems somewhat unfair.

[ nightingale mirrors her expression. ]

I will leave that up to you. [ he finally says. he wouldn't mind kissing her on the cheek. he's not particularly interested in kissing her anywhere else. though she's beautiful and smart and reminds him of david, his interests lie with men. ]

Ever the gentleman to the end, I see.

[A fact that pleases her, as always. Rosalind's eyes flit over him, and she contemplates it for a few moments-- but really, it's hardly a decision. She can't say she knows him all that well, but she does like him, if for no other reason than he's a reminder of home.

So she rises to her toes, leaning up to brush her lips gently against his cheek.]

Merry Christmas . . . or whatever it is wizards celebrate.

I do try.

[ nightingale says, not without a hint of humour. he was raised to be a gentleman, but in this case, he suspects his general lack of interest has something to do with the fact that he never bought into his time's disregard for their boundaries.

but he still finds himself smiling when her lips brush against his cheek. ]

I do celebrate Christmas, in fact. [ the smile widens, though it's still a small thing. ] And happy holidays to you, too.

[She's smiling as she pulls back, oddly pleased. She'd never have indulged in that at home, but it's quite nice to try it here, especially with him.]

And what other traditions do they celebrate? Or is it all the same as the rest of England?

[ he's never said as much, but he enjoys her endless curiosity. it reminds him of peter. of david, too. ]

Oh, they're much the same. The occasional magical twist to them, admittedly, but much the same.

Oh? And what kind of twist would that be? You'll have to show me, either now or on Christmas day.

[Not only because she's endlessly curious (because she is, she always is), but because she simply enjoys seeing him work his magic.]

[ there's a hint of a grin playing around his lips for a moment, something almost boyish that is at odds with everything from the expensive shoes and carefully parted hair to the suit nightingale wears now. ]

Not for Christmas, specifically, but we did change popular ball games to magical ball games in school quite frequently. That sort of thing.

[Oh, and it's silly for her own delight to spike at that smile, but she can't help it when he reminds her of Robert back at Cambridge.]

Go on. You clearly enjoy the memory, tell me.

( open ) december catch-all

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