singillatim | deep in December, it's nice to remember

[ She's always liked giving gifts.

Or she had, anyway, back when she had a family and friends to give gifts to. She's missed two Christmases at home, now, with no way to give Waverly the only gift she thinks her sister would want — her back home again. But somehow, over the last year, she's managed to scrape out something here, for herself. Maybe not a family; maybe more like a pack.

And it's still Christmas, even in a frozen hellhole, so towards the end of December she leaves a few parcels around for people to find. Most gifts are small, scrounged from the outdoors equipment store and around Lakeside or Milton, but she did her best to find items they'd like:

For Holland March, a shirt offering one of his more appreciable services.

For Edward Little, a nice pair of warmly lined, soft leather gloves.

For Kate Marsh, cassette tapes of Adele's 21 and Alanis Morissette's Jagged Little Pill, for her heartbreak era.

For Thomas Jopson, a variety pack box of herbal teas and a jaunty green scarf (he doesn't need it but it'll look cute on him anyway).

For Bigby, a warm toque and a checkerboard (not that she thinks he especially likes checkers, but playing games is one way to spend quality time with a Certain Someone).

For Louis de Pointe du Lac, wine from Lakeside for his store and an IOU for one blood draw from Wynonna.

For John Irving, a leather-bound journal.

For Chloe, fertilizer for the greenhouse and a soft red scarf for her.

For Ruby, a pair of ice skates.

For ~~Mal~~ Jason Todd, a hunting knife.

For Tim Drake (ugh), a pair of binoculars (she knows you like to spyyyyyy).

For Raylan Givens, a decent pocket knife and a tin of mink oil (for boots? holsters? belts? whatever). ]

Edited 2024-12-17 03:25 (UTC)

[Ruby had not exactly done a lot of skating back at home. But she was athletic and a pretty quick learner, so the gift gave her something new to do around this place. And finding ways to fight of boredom were pretty important in her book.

Unfortunately or fortunately for Wynonna, Ruby isn't about to let her off the hook either. Which is why one afternoon she's out banging on Wynonna's door.]

Hey! Hey! I'm pretty sure you're in there. You gotta come out and go skating with me!

[ She is inside, and luckily been drinking some of Tommy's tea instead of the pine wine she might have reached for. Wynonna opens the door with a sudden pull, not thinking about whether it might send Ruby off-balance. ]

What makes you think I picked up skates for myself?

[ She had, but she hasn't even put them on yet. It's been years since she's been ice-skating, and that was on ponds and lakes and in rinks where no giant lake monsters were likely to pop their heads up and demand a toll. ]

[He probably should've planned this whole thing better, but the need to see the rumored bear tracks from himself is pressing, and he won't be able to really think about anything else until he does so. So James has headed immediately to Lakeside, and the trip itself is long and still more exhausting than it should be, with the cold and endless darkness really not helping making the situation any more pleasant.

So by the time he's made it to Lakeside, he has to make a decision about whether to immediately continue on to searching for the tracks, or take a break somewhere. Taking a moment to rest and warm up a little would be the smart thing to do, and James is fully aware of that, but it's still a difficult decision and it's only with great effort and restraint that he does indeed end up seeking out the house he knows belongs to Jopson. Hopefully he won't be too surprised by a knock at the door at whatever hour of day--or night--this is.]

[ There's a certain booted tread often accompanied by an authoritative knock that she's— not exactly expecting, but wouldn't be surprised to hear, so it's only a moment before Wynonna comes to the door, opening it with an acerbic, teasing greeting that dies on her lips. ]

Oh, good, there's more of you.

[ She'd seen him at the party, hadn't she? Kate had been talking to him at one point or another, but she hasn't actually met the guy yet. Wynonna opens the door a little wider, standing there: the polish she'd had at the party is nowhere to be seen, now. She's back in her skinny, ripped black jeans, a t-shirt tied up at her midriff, studying him for a moment. ]

Hey. You looking for Tommy?

[That's... Certainly not the welcome he was expecting, even if he's not entirely shocked to see a woman answer the door; he hadn't thought about the possibility, but he was aware of it, having heard quite a bit from Jopson about her.

And perhaps that's why his attention passes her slightly-scandalous way of wearing her shirt to instead notice the ripped jeans. Hm. Jopson hadn't been lying, not that James had thought he was, but still. Weird.

His gaze returns to hers almost immediately after that, hopefully quickly enough to not be rude. He's dressed much the same as he had been at the party--greatcoat, hat, black pants boots, dark green sweater--though with the coat pulled closed and lapels turned up to help protect from the cold.]

Miss Earp, I presume?

[Who else would it be, especially calling Jopson Tommy, but it's only polite to ask. And to answer her question as well.]

Yes, is he in?

That's me. Wynonna Earp. And you must be...

[ What was the name? ]

Fitzjames, right?

[ That's the only one around she hasn't met yet, but she's pretty sure Kate had said something about him within her earshot at one point or another. Wynonna shakes her head at him, but steps back to clear the way through the door. Her own steps are softer with the slippers she's wearing; the charms on her two necklaces — one hung with a key and a small string of beads, the other with a gold wedding ring — jingle gently against each other as she moves. ]

Not right now. But you wanna come in? I've got the fire going and I was just warming up some soup. There's plenty.

Yes. James Fitzjames.

[She'd offered both names, so only appropriate to do the same. Hearing Jopson isn't here at the moment makes this whole thing slightly awkward, as it's not entirely appropriate to be alone with a young woman in her home, but then again it's not appropriate for her and Jopson to live together, so clearly it isn't something that bothers her. Besides, he's cold, and although his appetite can be somewhat fleeting at best the idea of soup sounds incredibly enticing at the moment.

So he nods, tapping his boots to make sure not to track snow into the house, then accepts the invitation and steps inside.]

Thank you. I've been to Lakeside before, but it's somewhat more difficult a journey at this time of year.

[That's the excuse he's sticking to, anyway.]

Easy enough to remember.

[ She waits until he's inside before closing and locking the door, then leads the way further into the cabin, leaving him to hang up his coat and hat by the door if he wants. Jackrabbit Cabin was once part of a luxury resort, and some of the trappings remain, but it's clear that it's become a home now. Between her and Thomas, the cabin's cookie cutter interior has warmed, turned homey with a patched blanket here, a squashy chair there, candles and lamps all around. It looks neat and lived in, and she's come to love it.

Right now, the fire is burning comfortably in the great room, and she waves a hand at the couch and chairs there as she heads to the pot that's sitting near the flames. It's rabbit stew, Thomas' own recipe, and the scent that lifts from the pot as she gives it a stir is mouth-watering. ]

Yeah, that whole 'constant darkness' thing is a real bummer. At least there's an easier path to take, now.

[ She grabs two mugs and starts ladling the soup into them. ]

So which ship were you on? Terror or the other one?

[The cabin is very nice. He doesn't know Wynonna well enough to guess at how much of the influence is hers and how much is Jopson's, but even had it been Jopson alone James wouldn't have been terribly surprised by the accomplishment, even with limited supplies. People can be very creative when they have need and reason for it, and the home seems an excellent example of that.

He doesn't take off his coat or his hat, though he does turn the lapels down as he follows Wynonna, carefully maintaining a respectful distance. Most of his focus is on glancing around curiously at the little personal touches evident all over, but his attention does soon shift to the warmth of the fire and the smell of the rabbit stew, and he moves toward the indicated seating but doesn't sit down just yet.

The other one. Really. He's not annoyed at her, or really at anyone, but there is some sense that he should be offended on behalf of his ship and his crew. The Terrors really are over-represented in this place, especially if the name of their companion ship isn't even known to people familiar with them.]

Erebus. Doctor Goodsir is from Erebus as well, but it seems that of all of those from the Expedition here, it is just the two of us not from Terror.

[And he has wondered about that, though it's been a low priority mystery compared to many others.

Her knowing Jopson, and knowing Terror, would've made sense and not raised too many questions, but James remembers what Wynonna had said upon opening the door. So he feels he should ask--]

Have you met many of those from the Expedition? Other then Lieutenant Jopson.

Erebus, right.

[ Once upon a time, she'd known that name... or at least heard it in school, read it in a book. It hadn't stuck because she'd never thought she would ever need to know it. What could be more useless than knowing about an expedition that never got anywhere from a hundred and fifty years before she was born? It's not like she could have expected she'd be stuck in a frozen post-apocalyptic wasteland with a bunch of the sailors from either ship.

Wynonna slides spoons into the mugs and straightens to bring them with her, handing one over to Fitzjames before she slumps into a corner of the couch, one leg tucked beneath her and her own mug in her hands. ]

Pretty much all of them, I think. No, wait...

[ She thinks back, remembering a tall man with curly hair at a few of the community-wide meetings. ]

Not Hickey's guy... what's his name — Gibson. Haven't met him. But all the others, yeah. Goodsir, the captain, Irving.

[ He has no way of knowing how complicated this last name has become for her, but she'll be damned if she lets it show in her voice. There is something, though; a flicker across her face, there and gone again, as she goes on. ]

Little was one of the first people I met here.

[ And since then has become... she has no idea what. A friend, a sometimes partner. Pack, when her new wolfish instincts are running the show. Someone she couldn't stand to lose. ]

I know him pretty well.

[ Towards the end of December, Fraser makes his way around the communities of Milton and Lakeside, delivering food and supplies to every Interloper and their new one-time Forest Talker friends. He brings smoked venison and smoked fish, along with burdock, cattail, and mountain sorrel, and offers his help to anyone worried about feeding themselves this winter.

To a few households, he brings other gifts; mostly handmade or fixed up from the condition in which he found them.

For Francis Crozier, a chess set he'd found in Lakeside. A few of the pieces had gone missing, and he'd replaced them with hand-carved versions of knights and rooks and pawns.

For Edward Little, an encyclopedia, published in 1972 but which contains a great deal of information about the world that kept going after the Expedition fell trapped in the ice.

For Kate Marsh, a handmade fur headband and a whittled pendant depicting the archangel Raphael.

For Chloe Frazer, several gardening magazines, older but with a wealth of helpful information.

For Konstantin Veshnyakov, a warm fur hat.

For Bigby Wolf, some beeswax for snow-chapped paws and an extra haunch of venison.

To Svetlana Nazarova, who already holds more of him than he knows how to say, he brings a pair of soft, handmade gloves lined with rabbit fur and a charm, smooth and polished and delicately carved from wood into the shape of a sun, sparkling with a few embedded chips of pyrite.

And one day, while he's in Lakeside, Fraser returns to the lonely lookout tower, climbing all the way to the top. He takes a long moment to look around at the cold and lonely world, then takes out his knife and carefully carves a name as high as he can reach: Edward Kenway. ]

[The Crozier-Raju cabin isn’t one hard up for supplies, but Crozier gladly trades some of the arrowroot, chicory, and hawthorn they’ve managed to find out in the big, wide world for some of Fraser’s burdock and sorrel. He’s invited in to sit by the fire and warm his bones with some dandelion tea while Crozier marvels at the chess set.

He holds up the knight and smiles as he turns it over by the light of a lantern.]

Gorgeous work. Stay for a game?

I'd like that very much, thank you.

[ He'd taken his Stetson off, politely, and now it sits beside him, steaming gently in the heat from the crackling fire as Fraser warms his hands on the mug of tea and watches Crozier study the pieces. ]

Many people seemed to enjoy the gathering for the last sunset. It helps, to bring people together for a celebration, after everything that's happened. It was a good idea.

[James takes the mug with a nod of his head and murmured thanks, and sinks down into a chair when Wynonna chooses the couch. He turns the mug in his hands, messing idly with the spoon as he goes through the familiar mental struggle of convincing himself the food is not only safe to eat, but it's a good idea to do so. And it does smell and look very good.

Wynonna's answer about the others is good distraction while he does this, and most interesting is how she speaks about Edward. She makes the comments smoothly enough, with only the barest flicker in her expression, but giving a more detailed answer about Edward than about anyone else that she's met says something in itself.]

He seems to have made an impression on several people here.

[James makes the remark lightly, with a hint of fondness; clearly he doesn't think this is a bad thing. It is a little unexpected, though, considering just how reserved Edward was during the Expedition.]

[ She stirs her own soup and nods to his mug. ]

Tommy made it. It's good.

[ She hasn't met Fitzjames before, but she knows he was at the party, Crozier's party for the last sunset of the year. What she doesn't know is if he saw Little there; if he saw her and Little there, if he happened to notice them walking arm in arm and gravitating toward each other for so much of the night, or anything... else...

(That party was a mistake—)

But before she can get too wary, he goes and says that, with something light and warm in his voice that isn't quite amusement but she's been wired to defend Little from the absolutely true jibes he sometimes gets, due to his being intensely reserved, clinging to his manners to the point of naivete, way too straightlaced, and helpless as a baby in a fight. All things she'd say to his face, but that's her. ]

He's spent a year trying to help the people here.

[ There's a quick, defensive edge to it that absolutely isn't doing her any favors. She purses her lips, irritated with herself, with Little, with the world at large, and shakes her hair back in an insouciant shrug. ]

Isn't that what you'd expect one of your officers to do?

[ Wynonna, you've never respected his rank before— ]

He's a good guy. People here like him.

[ Well, mostly. ]

Edited 2024-12-30 02:13 (UTC)

[That Jopson made the stew is reassuring, and James can't quite tell if Wynonna mentions it because she can tell he's hesitant, or is just making the remark. But either way it does calm him nerves a little even if he doesn't quite try the food just yet, as he's quickly distracted by Wynnona's reaction to his comment.

He can't help but feel a faint sense of amusement, the defensiveness obvious, but this amusement is fond as well. It's nice to hear someone leap so quickly to Edward's defense at even a minor perceived slight, and James waits until he's certain she's done before he responds.]

That is exactly what I would expect him to do.

[He affirms the answer to her question sinmply, but very certainly.]

And it's good to hear that those efforts have been appreciated here.

[They weren't always during the Expedition, for many assorted reasons. But James had always found Edward reliable, and more than that, he'd never had to guess whether or not Edward's intentions were good. He could always trust in that, and it's truly no surprise that those good intentions have carried over here, but it has been unexpected--in a good way--just how many people seem to value that.]

[There are times he wishes he had more of an artistic mindset; he can only dream of being able to create something so lovely. He sets down the piece and rearranges the board carefully, treating it like the treasure that it is.]

Thank you for saying so. Our continued survival is built on community - and there is one here. Small, but fiercely loyal, and worth protecting.

[Jon hunts and traps, and is usually able to feed the little household with some to spare -- and he isn't the only person in the house trying to do so. Still, gifts are most welcome, and particularly from someone he doesn't know well. He looks pleasantly surprised, accepting it on the front porch of the house.]

You have my thanks. My sister's, too, I am sure, if she hasn't told you herself.

[He will speak for "Lyanna," but not for Randvi. He juggles the gift, tucks it under an arm, offers his other forearm to clasp in greeting.]

I'm Jon Snow.

Appreciated isn't really the word I'd use.

[ The best she'd be willing to offer up is tolerated, and she's not even sure that is the general consensus towards Little's attempts to keep everyone here safe and fed and calm. It might be different if he were good at any of it—

Which is exactly the kind of opinion she'd snap at anyone else for. He might not be the most effective do-gooder in the place, but he tries, and he doesn't stop trying, and he cares about every last fucker here, even the ones who hate him.

She knows what that's like. She's known it every day since she was twelve years old.

Anyway— talking about Little is dangerous in a way it never used to be, words like a trapdoor groaning under her feet, and Wynonna shifts subjects with all the grace and subtlety of a derailing freight train. ]

So what brought you all the way out here? Or did you decide to hike all the way to Lakeside just to see an old buddy?

Constable Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian Mounted Police.

[ He offers his own introduction while reaching to take the young man's hand, shifting subtly at the last second to clasp his forearm instead when that seems expected, in a variation of the greetings he knows best. ]

And this is Diefenbaker.

[ With a tip of his wide-brimmed hat to the wolf now curiously sniffing at Jon's boots. Diefenbaker is often friendly, but there's a degree of intent behind the wolf's inspection that reminds Fraser of the day they met Bigby Wolf. Curious.

His smile is mild and warm as he nods to the younger man. ]

You're very welcome. Your sister, too, of course. Please give her my best... I enjoyed our meeting before.

[ A long while ago now, but still fresh in his memory. Lyanna is a sweet girl. ]

How have you been settling in, so far?

[He allows the wolf to sniff his boots. Not much you can do but let that sort of thing happen, and anyway, Ghost is asleep by the fire at the moment. The wolf seems no threat; a handsome beast.

At that question, Jon's expression becomes more pensive.]

It's been quieter here these last moons. Not like it was at first. [When the Forest Talkers attacked them, he means, and so many had been killed.] But where I come from, if it's dark like this for as long as it has been, it isn't any good.

What are the Royal Canadian Mounted Police? Some sort of knight?

[He looks a little hopeful at the prospect. He knows there are many people here of skill and consequence and honor; if there were not, fewer would have survived in the conditions they live in. And there are people who may suit one of those designations, but not all of them -- all sorts. He does not know as many as he should.]

[ His own expression turns inward at the reminder of those terrible months at the end of the summer. He'd done what he could to stem the tide of violence and rage and senseless death, but it hadn't been enough. Nothing any of them did could stop it. ]

The dark will last a few months, but we'll have sunlight again in the spring.

[ He nods to the packet Jon has tucked under his arm. ]

And if you're from a place that gets this dark for this long, you know it's important for us all to help each other where we can. We'll make it through, together.

[ Diefenbaker ceases his study of Jon's boots with a brusque exhale through his nose and shakes his head, then wanders off to nose at a bush near the porch. ]

As for the RCMP— well, something like that, in some ways. We aren't knighted by the king or queen, but we take oaths to protect and to serve, to help people and to uphold the law.

Some take it more seriously than others. I've always considered it to be more of a calling than anything else. Is that like the knights you know?

[He tilts his head, considers it.]

It's what a knight ought to be, and few enough are. I am no knight -- there are no knights in the faith of my father's house -- but I try to be true to my word. He was no knight either, but in his day, he upheld the law and kept the peace as well as any man could.

You're right that we must work together. How long have you been in Milton? Where I come from, the Long Night is not natural. It's brought by the Night King, who brings an army of undead soldiers at his heels. We hope not to see it. I was raising men to fight him when I was brought here. But the only hope for surviving it is to get people to set aside their enmities -- sometimes centuries of them, and, well, it isn't easy. [He looks tired, for a moment, and older than his years, and makes a little gesture with his free hand that implies, You understand.] This is easier.

Your father sounds like a good man, who taught you well.

[ A year ago, he'd been in Chicago, asking another father about the kind of legacy and lesson he wanted to leave his son. How is Del doing, a year later? Have they made their amends, started planning again for the future?

But this story of a long night has him looking grim, his lips pressing together. In the year he's been here, the world has acquiesced to the usual order of darkness and daylight, but there has sometimes seemed to be a.... reluctance to it. And he has no doubt that the Darkwalker would prefer to keep them all in a smothering darkness for as long as possible. ]

That's a lot of responsibility to take on.

[ Especially for one as young as Jon still looks to be. ]

Do you mind if I ask what put you in that position? Something other than knighthood, it seems.

deep in December, it's nice to remember

give me an old fashioned Christmas—

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Wildcard!

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It soon will be Christmas, bells will be ringing, blessings are all around

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