Pure, white powder fell from the heavens to blanket the earth below in a crisp, clean canvas that the moonlight painted with a eery silver glow. Towering pine stretched their limbs to the skies in competition to see who could gather the most snow. The scenery, Turkey discovered, was reminiscent of the perfect world within snow-globes that she had the privilege of making. There wasn't a day that passed where Turkey wouldn't wish for every last hurtful thing,....memories...thoughts...pain...could all be buried in the beautiful snow, if only to create the perfect world that rested within the snowglobes she so loved.
Elven blood ran through her veins, but unlike many, she hadn't been one who had been born within the North Pole. She had been recruited by Santa himself only a year ago, and had quickly found joy in the work she put into toymaking. Unlike many who she had met on the streets, there were scores of elves at Santa's workshop who treated her kindly, and with respect. They didn't judge her, but accepted her for who she was. This was her special place, above all else; her very own snowglobe sanctuary.
The nymphish girl smiled, her eyes twinkling bright behind her glasses, and her heart fluttering in her chest. Tonight was a very special night. Tonight was Christmas Eve. For Turkey, tonight meant so much more than the commercialism of her favorite holiday; it marked the anniversary of the meeting of a very special man in her life. A man who, if she hadn't met on a night like tonight, she was unsure if she'd even be alive.
Turkey's gloved hands curled around the warm mug of coffee Nippers had been so kind to serve her, while insisting that she take a break; if even a small one. It had been brought with her as she stood out on the small balcony just outside of her office space. The slightly spiced scent of vanilla and cinnamon from the delicious brew warmed her, but thoughts of the man whose image refused to leave her mind, created a flame within her aching heart that couldn't be extinguished.
He was like the night itself; as cold as the winter frost....
Turkey had run away from home on that winter night, when the temperatures dipped into the freezing point. The young elf had gotten into an argument with her mother; a woman who she rarely saw eye to eye with, a woman who she was certain didn't understand her, nor did she make any effort to. It was difficult, coming from a a fraction of a family; her mother being a divorced woman who only wanted a turkey for a daughter. Instead got saddled with an elf, though they both were of the same species. Both sides had exploded when friction between them got too much to bear, and the both of them had exchanges words that they would regret and wish to take back long into the future, but all Turkey could think about for the moment was getting away.
“I hate you!” The three short, yet hurtful words that Turkey had last flung in her fit of rage rang clearly in her mind as she bolted out the door and out into the elements. The young girl hoped that the bitter cold winds and snow outside would dampen and eventually blanket the flames of rebellion and hatred in her heart. Fresh white powder crunched underfoot with every step, her breath clearly visible on the air as it pushed past her parted lips. She had nowhere to go, but still, she ran as fast and as far as her legs could carry her, desperate to find some form of solitude from the world, from her thoughts.
What she found, eventually, was a dirty alley that was tucked away between a district of abandoned warehouses. She hadn't recalled just how many buses she had taken to wind up in such a place, and wouldn't know how to get back to her home, if ever she chose to return to it. But for the moment, the only thing that mattered to Turkey was reaching out to grasp the slice of solitude she had stumbled upon. Her hands were pressed flat against the filthy wall before her, to catch her weight as she doubled over, her breaths shallow. Grit and grime of unknown origin dirtied the space beneath her neatly trimmed nails. It took some time, but the rapidly beating organ within her chest slowed enough for her to find her breath and settle down on the ground, pulling her knees close to her for warmth.
What was she to do, now? It was Christmas Eve and instead of spending her time within a nice, warm house, with her mother, Turkey was out in the cold, in a strange area, with absolutely no way of returning home. The young woman whimpered into her scarf, beginning to worry now that some of her anger had subsided. How would she face her mom and apologize, if she happened to find her way back? How would she prevent such outbursts from occurring in the future?
Hot tears began to well up in her emerald green hues, blurring the cold and dirty world around her. She had every right to be in the isolated alley at the moment, she had been positively awful to the woman who had raised her! What right did she have t even think about returning home? Anger melted into grief and Turkey buried her face in her hands, sobbing quietly, her small body shaking and shivering as her tears coursed down her chubby cheeks.
Her uncontrollable sobbing must've alerted a small group of gangsters nearby to her wherabouts. Her head rose as the sound footsteps sounded, stopping just in front of her. The girl was barely given time to glance up at the surly strangers who smirked maliciously down at her, talking amongst themselves and plotting on what to do with their cornered prey.
Turkey trembled, pressing herself up against the wall, a hand rising so she could sop away her tears with her sleeve. She was in quite the predicament now, if she wasn't before. There was no way that she could fight five, no...six of the sadistic thugs, given her short stature, and lack of training in combat of any sort. Was there any way that she could somehow slip away and outrun them...? Probably not. Her heart leapt into her throat to cut off her air supply as a man who seemed to be the leader of the small pack took a step forward, a metal pipe in hand while he eyed her like wold expecting to make a lost little lamb his next meal.
No. No! She didn't want to die here! She couldn't! Oh, if only she had kept her cool and tried to resolve things peacefully with her mother! Shutting her eyes tightly, Turkey prayed to whoever would hear her plea for some miracle to deliver her out of this awful nightmare! If she somehow got out of this predicament, she vowed that she would never raise her voice to her mother again! Never would she relinquish the reins on her temperament! No, she'd be good! She'd be kinder, sweeter, more patient!
“Please! Please! Save me!” The terrified elf couldn't help but flinch, her arms rising to cover her head and face from the weapon as it was lifted into the air above the man's head. The blow never came, and the agonizing scream of pain that rang in Turkey's ears wasn't her own, much to her surprise, and relief. Long moments passed before she forced herself to open her eyes to the gruesome scene of one of the men who had cornered her writhing on the ground, his body covered from flame from head to toe. What had happened?
Two of the other men seemed to be trying their best to put the flames out, while the other three abruptly turned away from Turkey to face what seemed to be a man at the far end of the alley. “Who the hell are you?” the demand was directed to the stranger standing amongst the shadow. Who he was, wasn't any of her concern, Turkey decided. Now was her time to try and escape while the others were distracted!
...If only her legs hadn't turned to jelly and could've supported her weight long enough to make a break for it! Oh, curse her rotten luck!
Instead of providing an answer, the stranger stepped forward, keeping to the shadows of the dank and dirty space. The quiet clacking from the hard leather soles of expensive Ethermane Hellfish boots sounded against the paved path as the gang leader's dying screams faded. It seemed that this unexpected arrival had little concern for the fact that he was clearly outnumbered. He was either really brave, or really stupid, in that case.
Whoever he was; whatever he was, Turkey soon discovered that he possessed cat-like reflexes; the man easily catching the first punch that was thrown at him. A black gloved hand held tight to the attacker's closed fist. In no time at all, the stranger's arm was drawn backward to pull the foolish gang member forward. The thug's overconfidence was his own undoing. Before any one of them could do so much as blink, a leg was brought up as the thug stumbled forward. A rush of air escaped his agape mouth; the force from the knee that ground into his gut knocking the wind from him.
Before Turkey knew it, a fight between the strange man and the gang members had broken out right in front of her. But, she figured, better them than her. Her back pressed close to the wall she had been huddled against. The feeling in her legs still hadn't yet returned. Though she only wished to run far from the dangerous men and deserted district, she couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from the crimson-clad man who she believed was the miracle she had prayed for just a few short moments ago. He would save her!
There was little time to worry about delivering a finishing blow to his first opponent, when the remaining men snapped out of their temporary daze, and decided to rush at him all at once. The next fist that flew at him was just barely dodged. The wind from the missed blow could be felt against his cheek. He would have more to worry about than mere bruises had the hit actually landed. Most likely, he would've been nursing a broken nose or jaw. Not only were most of the gang members bigger than him, but also the fact remained that he was outnumbered. It wasn't a fair fight in the least, but even so, he wouldn't abandon hope. Things were just beginning to get interesting.
Fists flew from either side, along with bright blue flames from the fingertips of the unnamed man who Turkey marveled at. He was so strong, so confident, so well-dressed. Since when were miracles so...so handsome? She sought to muffle her fearful cries and cringed when the man was roughly thrust up against the wall of a building. A hand roughly grasped at his neck to hold him in place, while a fist delivered a fierce punch to his jaw. There was enough force behind it to whip the miracle man's head to the side, said man groaning quietly as stars exploded behind his eyelids. A pained string of swear words promptly followed.
“Not so tough now, are you?” The remaining members teased, grinning at the abuse they inflicted upon their captive. The red-haired man who had punched him then grabbed a fistful of black hair in his hand, eliciting a quiet hiss from the man, whose head was brought forward, and then roughly thrust back against the wall of the building that he had been pinned against. Turkey flinched, her eyes closing, as if she was experiencing the man's pain, herself. She had to stop them, somehow!
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