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 Posted: Sun Dec 25, 2011 3:55 pm
For: Sil
The Nut Hammer
Once upon a time, there was a young girl called Sil Silberhaus, though girl was hardly the right term for someone sixteen years old. Every Christmas Eve, she would rush downstairs with her younger sister Chaoe to their family parlor, to see the marvelous decorations and celebrate with their family and friends. This Christmas Eve started like any other, but for Sil it would end unlike any evening she had ever had.
~~~
The decorations were even grander than last year, Sil had to admit as she entered the parlor, followed close behind by her sister. Candles adorned every surface, wreaths on every window, fairy lights strung around banisters and really everything they could be wound around. But the masterpiece was surely the immense Christmas Tree near the fireplace, twinkling with what seemed to the young girl as a million stars, reflecting off bright red baubles spread about its branches.
The room was filled with friends and family, aunts and uncles, nieces and nephews. Her parents were standing next to the Tree, greeting new arrivals and beaming at everyone. Everyone, including herself, were wearing their finest. From somewhere behind the crowd, music was playing and it did not take long for people to start dancing.
Sil hung back near the fireplace, feeling warm and happy as she watched her family enjoy themselves, watched her father lead her mother across the floor in a slow waltz. This was as happy a Christmas Eve as she could imagine, if only there wasn't a person missing from the festivities.
Above and behind her head, on the mantlepiece, the ancient clock chimed eight o'clock. After the last chime, Sil noticed a slight draft weaving past, making her rub her arms to smooth out the goosebumps the chill created. She glanced towards the massive oak doors leading out, and froze as she realized who had caused the draft by entering.
“Uncle Komuimeyer!” Sil exclaimed, a wide smile appearing on her face as she rushed forward to give her godfather a hug, “I thought you would not be able to come tonight!”
“Not come here? On Christmas Eve? Never! How could I stay away from my adorable godchildren?” He grinned widely, throwing out his arms, “And I come bearing gifts!” He beamed at Sil, Chaoe and the other children who quickly joined them to see what the commotion was about. After ensuring he had their rapt attention, Herr Komuimeyer reached into a huge leather satchel around his shoulders and gently pulled out four figures in succession. Sil, intrigued, leaned forward to see what they were.
They were dolls. Beautifully crafted and adorned wooden dolls, about the height of one of her father's boots. Herr Komuimeyer announced them one by one as he placed the in front of the children on the rug. “First, my Harlequin.” The Harlequin was dressed in a one-piece suit, decked out in black and white diamond checkers. His face was painted white, the same colour as his hair which was as white as snow, and around one of his eyes a black star had been painted, with a single line running from it down his cheek. The doll stood stock-still for a moment but when his creator touched his back, he started to move about, twisting his limbs – which to Sil's amazement seemed to be able to bend in at least two places - and twirling, performing amazing acrobatics with a dazzling frozen smile.
“And with him always, his Columbine,” Herr Komuimeyer announced, grasping back the attention of the children. This was a female doll, dressed to match her mate, as her dress covered in black and white diamonds. The main difference between them – besides the dress – was her hair, which was a dark blue, cropped close to her head. Her face was permanently set in a flirty grin and her painted eyes seemed to sparkle mischievously. When Herr Komuimeyer touched her back, Columbine swung out her arms and spun round, twirling her way towards the Harlequin. When she reached the other doll, she wrapped her arms stiffly around his shoulders, resting her head on one of them. The children cheered, clapping loudly as the dolls once again resumed their movements.
“It's not over yet!” the Dollmaker called out, placing yet another doll on the rug. “I present my Vivandiere!” This was also a female doll, dressed in a dark-green tight-fitted dress, that looked really more like a uniform. Her hair was a bright blonde, pulled back into a pony-tail resting over her shoulder. She had a small leather satchel – very much like the one Herr Komuimeyer had brought them in – dangling off her side, and a small clipboard clasped in the other. When touched, the arm swung up, holding the clipboard in front of the doll's face, and Sil was astonished to see one of the dolls eyebrows – which she at first had assumed was painted on like the rest of her face – rose up, giving the Vivandiere an inquiring expression. The doll started to walk around, looking at people in turn, clipboard at the ready, as if the ask 'What do you need?'
By now, the children were practically screaming in the delight, each pointing to other dolls in turn, heads twisting back and forth to try and look at all three at once. But there was still more. “Last, but most certainly not least, my Soldier.” This last doll was once again male, fitted with an impeccable dark blue uniform with white dressings. His hair was awfully long for a man, pulled back into a ponytail very similar to the Vivandiere's, though his jutted out from the back of his head. While the other three dolls all had fairly friendly and even happy faces, the Soldier's doll's face held a stern, stoic look. No smile stretched at his lips, and the brow was frowned, looking thoroughly unfriendly. At his side, there was a small silver scabbard. Herr Komuimeyer once again reached out and touched the doll and at his touch the Soldier unsheathed his silver sword, assuming a sparring stance and started thrusting it this way and that. It unsettled Sil a bit, wondering how safe it was for the younger children to play with a doll like that, but the sword seemed dull and harmless enough.
All four dolls were now moving about on the rug, performing their various tricks, which took them further and further away from where they had first been placed. Her sister and the other children wandered off following the twisting (Harlequin), twirling (Columbine), trotting (Vivandiere) and strutting (The Soldier) dolls, laughing and pointing at their antics. Sil was about to join them, when Herr Komuimeyer lightly touched her arm. “I have one more doll,” he told her softly, his eyes twinkling as he reaches into the satchel at his side, “This one is very precious to me.” He smiled, handing Sil a small wooden figure.
The doll was slightly smaller than the others, dressed in a bright red uniform adorned with black lapels and shiny golden buttons. It was a male, with hair as bright red as his uniform, swept away from his face. His only blemish appeared to be a black eye-patch on the doll's right eye, yet it suited the doll so much that Sil could not imagine him without it. The other uncovered eye was bright green and seemed to follow her gaze. His cheeks were pink and his painted mouth was stretched into a cheeky smile. In his hands, the doll held a small metal hammer. Her fingers found a small switch on his back and when she touched it, the hammer came down sharply, startling Sil.
“He's a nutcracker,” Herr Komuimeyer explained, his hands folded behind his back, watching the expression on her face fondly, “He cracks nuts.”
“He's beautiful,” Sil whispered, her eyes taking in every inch. Like the other dolls, this nutcracker had obviously been made to the same high standard. Yet there was something different about it. She could not put her finger on it exactly. It seemed to exude some kind of... promise.
“Then it is yours.”
Her head shot back up at her godfather's words, eyes wide in surprise, “Oh no! I couldn't possible accept such a marvelous gift, Uncle!” she protested. He smiled, waving his hand dismissively, “Nonsense. I created these dolls to be enjoyed by people I care about, and there are few in the world I care about more than you, dear. It shall be your Christmas present.”
Sil grinned widely, the happy look on her face more than enough, “Thank you so much!” she exclaimed, and rushed forwards to give him a tight hug, “I will treasure him forever.”
“Treasure what forever?”
The girl looked up from the hug to see her sister having returned, giving her a suspicious look. “Uncle Komuimeyer gave me this doll for Christmas, isn't he beautiful?” Sil said happily, showing the younger girl the nutcracker doll. Chaoe gave the doll a sullen look, the envy obvious in her face as she took the nutcracker from her sister's hands to give it a closer look. Sil grinned on as she watched her sister examine the doll, waiting for her to tell her what an amazing gift it was. The young girl prodded around a bit on the back of the nutcracker, also startling slightly when the hammer came down in a flash. Chaoe scoffed, “That's all it does?” She held him up by his legs, giving him a scathing look, “It doesn't even move like the others.”
“He doesn't have to move!” Sil replied, growing angry at her sister's disdain, “He is amazing the way he is!” She held out her hand, glaring, “Just give him back to me if you dislike him so much.”
Chaoe quirked a brow at her older sister, “Why should I?” She shot a glance at Herr Komuimeyer, who had moved slightly away to chat with one of the adults at the party, making sure he could not overhear her talking, “Why should you get a doll for Christmas? Why won't I get any of the dolls?”
Sil shook her head, not knowing and by now – because of her sister's envious attitude – not caring, “I don't know, but he is mine!” Once again, she thrust out her hand, her face scrunching up with annoyance. She did not want to have to go over to her parents or Herr Komuimeyer, complaining at sixteen that her younger sister would not give back a toy.
“No!” her sister exclaimed, clutching the doll to her chest. Sil, face now furious, lunged for it, managing to get a good hold on it, but before she could pull her nutcracker back to her hands safely, her sister grabbed one of the arms and with a loud snap, it came clean off, falling onto the floor as Chaoe let go, eyes wide.
“You broke him!” Sil cried out, dropping to her knees, tears forming in her eyes at the sight of the doll's broken body. “It is just a doll,” her sister replied nastily, “And it was ugly anyway.” She stuck out her tongue before rushing back to the other dolls still entertaining the crowd on the other side of the room, no longer interested in what Sil had to play with. Sil did not notice her leaving, trying her hardest to keep the tears from dropping, mentally berating herself for getting this emotional over a toy at her age, but she could not help it. He was special. Trembling slightly, she reached out and picked up the broken piece.
“Don't fret, my dear,” Herr Komuimeyer lowered himself to her level after shooting a stern look at Chaoe's back, “It's a only a minor wound...” Gently, he took both the doll and his now separate arm from her hands, “He will be mended in a heartbeat.” And, true to his word, after fiddling with it for a few minutes, her godfather handed Sil back the doll, once again whole. She clutched the doll to her chest, still a bit upset and after whispering a soft 'Thank you', retired to the couch near the fireplace, cradling the small nutcracker in her arms.
Before long, her parents called out that is was time to retire for the evening, and the parlor slowly emptied out as their guests either made their way home – for the friends who lived in their village – or to their rooms upstairs – in the case of family and friends who had come a long way to celebrate the holiday. Sil hardly noticed, her attention focused on the doll in her arms, his cheeky smile and green eye unmoving. The candles were being dimmed around the room when Herr Komuimeyer sank onto the cushions next to her. “I have to put him away now,” He said softly, “After all, he should be under the Tree on Christmas Morning, as is just.” He held out his hands, giving her an encouraging look. Sil was reluctant to part with him, but would not insult her godfather's generous gift by being obstinate now, so she handed him over gently.
“Goodnight, Uncle Komuimeyer,” the young girl said, giving him a quick hug before leaving the room, glancing back once at the door to see her godfather bent over his enormous leather satchel, placing both the nutcracker and the other dolls safely back inside.
~~~
There was little else on Sil's mind but the small nutcracker she left downstairs as she curled up under the covers, trying her best to ease her mind and fall asleep. It was little use, as thoughts keep flying through her head. The vision of her sister breaking the nutcracker that evening flashed by in her mind's eye. What if Chaoe would try again? She had seemed very jealous. Already, her traitorous mind provided her with a visual of the girl tearing the doll limb from limb, laughing deviously. Eyes flying back open, Sil sat up abruptly, covers pushed back. 'Surely there would not be any harm in going down to check on him,' she proposed to herself mentally, 'After all, Uncle has already given him to me. I am allowed to see my own present.' Nodding firmly, she threw the covers off her completely, swung her legs over the side of the bed and pushed her feet into her slippers. On her way to the door – moving quite a lot faster than she had intended – Sil grabbed her nightgown from a chair, putting it on before heading out into the hallway. The entire house was as silent as can be. She didn't hear a sound as she softly made her way back to the parlor.
Sil was surprised to find the fire still burning in the hearth when she slipped inside, but was glad for the illumination to guide her. Scanning the room, she quickly spotted the leather satchel Herr Komuimeyer had brought along with him on the floor next to the couch by the fireplace. Though she had not seen what he had done with the nutcracker, she was convinced he would be in there with the others. She headed straight for it, but the moment she moved across the rug in front of the fire, the clock on the mantlepiece struck midnight. It startled Sil, but it was nothing compared to the fright she got when she glanced over to the timepiece. For perched on top of the ancient clock, was none other than Herr Komuimeyer, though not how one would have expected. He was about the size of a teacup.
“Good evening, my dear,” he greeted her from his seat, his voice as loud and clear as normal despite his small stature, “You are just in time.”
“Just in time?” Sil repeated, intrigued despite the sudden shock, “Just in time for what?”
Herr Komuimeyer did not reply. He just smiled in that ambiguous way of his and directed his gaze and his arm towards the parlor. Sil followed what he apparently indicated, and for a moment she thought that nothing was there but when she turned back towards the fireplace an odd sensation started in the pit of her belly. She shook her head, wondering if it was something she ate. As she looked up however, she was shocked to see things from a whole new perspective. The Christmas Tree she had been standing next to had disappeared, leaving her with a view of a thick trunk and a roof of green branches. It took a moment for her to realize that it was still the same tree, but that she had shrunk. The rest of the room appeared to have grown in size as well. “Uncle?!” Sil called out in fright, but she received no reply. Terror gripped mind. What had happened? She sunk to her haunches, wrapping her arms around her knees. How would she ever get back to her normal size? Would her parents miss her in the morning? Would they send out search parties, never knowing she was right there, in the parlor?
She was shaken out of her thoughts by a soft rustling noise. Her head shot up, looking round frantically for the source. It was coming from the satchel, nearby now to her left. It was moving. As she looked in horror, the latches unlocked and it opened up. She rushed back, hiding herself behind the thick trunk of the tree, peering around the corner, wondering in fright what could be fighting its way out of the bag.
To her astonishment, the figure that emerged from the opening in the satchel, was the Harlequin, moving all by himself. As he righted himself on the rug, he dusted himself off then held out his hand. It was accepted by Columbine, who was the second to climb onto the floor, giving the Harlequin a tight hug when she stood safely on her two wooden legs, before twirling... Twirling towards Sil. She started to scramble away from the doll, equal parts amazed and terrified, but Columbine was faster. She reached the girl's side, arms poised at her sides, looming slightly. Sil threw up her hands over her face, eyes scrunched closed, worried what the doll might try, but when nothing happened, she dared a peek in between her hands and found that Columbine seemed to have no intention of harming her. In face, she held out a stiff wooden hand, the offer obvious even with her face frozen in the flirty smile. Hardly even knowing what she was doing, Sil took the hand, surprised at the strength the doll possessed as Columbine lifted her off the ground, and gently started leading her back towards the fireplace.
As they rounded the tree trunk, Sil saw that the Harlequin had now been joined by both the Vivandiere and the Soldier. They were huddled together, gesturing wildly and apparently discussing something. The Soldier nudged the others as Columbine approached, Sil in tow. The three dolls gave a stiff bow as they passed, Sil staring unabashedly at them. “H-How?” she managed to croak, though there was no answer and she felt foolish for a moment expecting one. Columbine merely shrugged as she gestured towards the bottom ridge of the fireplace, where a small armchair – where did one that small come from? - had been placed. Sil understood the hint, taking the appointed seat and belatedly returned the wave Columbine sent her before twirling over to the other dolls.
She looked at the group in time to see the Soldier reach into the satchel and pull out a large paper box. He pushed open the lid and her eyes widened as countless small figures climbed over the ledge and onto the carpet. The were about half the size of the other dolls, half of them with black and red uniforms painted onto the bodies, the other half covered in desert-like tan clothing At his gestures, they began to arrange themselves into a formation on the rug, their heads all pointing towards something on the other side of the room.
“It looks like an army...” Sil muttered softly, taking the scene. With a jolt, she realized she was still missing someone. Her eyes shot back towards the satchel and as if on cue, he climbed out. Her Nutcracker. It somehow seemed even more wondrous to see him moving about freely - though a bit stiffly – since he had been very restricted in his movements earlier. The hammer he had held in his hands to crack nuts with now rested in just his left and seemed to have grown in size. His face was as frozen as the others. Sil stared, her mouth slightly open, as he seemed to dust himself off as well, adjusting the eye patch, before turning towards her and sunk into a low bow, hand held to his heart. Sil grinned wide, standing up to return his gesture with a polite curtsey, before sinking back into the armchair, a giddy feeling in her stomach. She had long since given up on trying to figure out what was going on exactly. She was half-convinced she was really still curled up in bed upstairs, so obsessed with her Nutcracker that she had starred him in a vivid dream. Shrugging slightly, Sil figured she might was well enjoy it.
The battalion on the rug seemed to be waiting for some order. The Nutcracker moved forward, meeting up with the Soldier and the Harlequin, once again starting to gesture wildly. Then, suddenly, they froze, before turning their attention rapidly to the couch on the opposite side of the rug. Sil followed their gaze. Something seemed to be moving underneath the couch and after a few minutes, figures became clear. She recoiled, horrified, praying the distance was playing tricks with her sight, for the things crawling out from under the seats looked like deformed human bodies, skeletons covered in some sort of white mold, that formed itself to resemble flesh but failing. Their foreheads were marked with a black star. The stream of demons seemed endless, the ones already on the rug arranging themselves into a ramshackle sort of lines. Finally, something larger than the monsters walked out. Sil squinted, leaning forwards in her chair to see this new person. He was a heavy-set man, stretched to balloon-like proportions. His face was stretched into an impossibly wide maniacal grin, small glasses perched on his nose and a massive top-hat finished the outfit.
Sil frowned, leaning back. The man did not look very threatening, yet there was something foreboding about him. She turned his attention back to the doll army on her side of the rug, where the small soldiers were standing stock-still, the dolls moving about frantically, pacing the ranks and inspecting the troops. With a thrust of his hand, the Nutcracker seemed to dismiss Columbine and the Vivandiere, who – after Columbine gave the Harlequin another quick hug – moved back towards the fireplace. The other three – Harlequin, the Soldier and the Nutcracker – took their positions at the back of the troops. It was all becoming clear now. They meant to do battle. An anxious feeling shot through Sil's heart, shooting a concerned look at the Nutcracker, praying he would stay safe. He had been recently hurt, after all. As if he could hear her thoughts, he flexed the no longer detached arms, swinging it round, like he was trying to show her he was alright.
Suddenly, a loud horn sounded from what appeared to be everywhere. Immediately, both the Soldier and the Nutcracker thrust out their weapons, which seemed to serve as a signal to the small figurines on the rug, who rushed forward to meet the opponents head on, the three dolls following behind. The monsters rose to meet the challenge. The battle started. Sil did her best from vantage-point to keep track, but there was so much going on that it was hard to determine who was winning. Wounded soldier figurines were being brought back to Columbine and the Vivandiere, who set about putting them right again and sending them out to fight again. She tried not to look to closely at the wounded ones, who seemed to have their limbs ripped off. Sil was astonished to see one particular figurine force his way out of Columbine's arms back to the front, with both his arms still missing – apparently they had not been brought back with him.
As the fight wore on, it became clearer to Sil that the doll's side was winning. Before long, she saw the three dolls force their way through the fighting ranks, trying to meet the Top-Hat Leader halfway, but the Harlequin and the Soldier became distracted by multiple enemies at ones. Sil rose from her seat, the ranks now obscuring her vision of her Nutcracker, who would surely meet the Leader alone now. She ran forward, Columbine and the Vivandiere too busy with wounded soldiers to pay her much attention, and she managed to get fairly close to the two. Around her, soldiers and enemies kept meeting in two's and three's, yet they seemed to ignore her, at least for now.
Sil watched in fascination as the Nutcracker and the Leader stared at each other, appearing to have a conversation despite their faces being frozen. Then, quick as lightning, the Nutcracker gripped his hammer and attacked. The final duel began. The moves were fast at the wind, her eyes hardly able to follow, and so Sil had no idea what was happening. Suddenly the two became clear again, but only because – to her horror – the Nutcracker had been thrust backwards by a heavy blow from the Leader, his hammer flying out of his hands. He clutched his arm – the one, she realized, that had been detached – which now hung useless by his side. Sil gasped, watching the scene as if in slow motion, the Leader advancing menacingly on the Nutracker, who was casting about wildly for his weapon. The Leader lifted his own weapon – which looked disturbingly similar to an umbrella – and was about to strike the finishing blow, if not for the more than slightly impulsive move Sil found herself making. She had reached to the ground, eyes fixed on the scene, fumbling for anything to use, and threw the item her searching fingers found without looking at it, straight at the Leader. The new-found weapon – which Sil winced to see was an arm that obviously had belonged to one of the small soldiers – hit the Leader right in the face, halting him in his tracks.
“Stop it!” she yelled out, only realizing her mistake when the Leader turned slowly towards her, his eery face unmoving but that made it even more terrifying. He slowly started to advance on her, umbrella raised, the ranks of soldiers and monsters between them melting away by themselves. “Uh-oh,” she muttered, once again searching the ground for anything to defend herself with. There was nothing to be found. She backed away from the Leader, having reached her, but tripped over a fallen body. Sil decided she didn't like this dream anymore as she stared up into the maniacal face of the Leader. As he made to swing down, she closed her eyes tight, willing herself to wake up. The blow never came. She opened her eyes, and they immediately widened in shock. The Nutcracker had rushed over thrown himself in front of her, catching the blow on his already wounded shoulder. Before either Sil or the Leader could react, the Nutcracker swung his hammer – he had somehow retrieved it – and hit the Leader on the side of his head. For a moment, all was silent. Then the Leader keeled over, motionless, and the battlefield erupted in a mass of sounds – cheers from the small soldiers, who were waving their arms in the air and jumping up and down, and cries from the monsters, who massed up and hurried over to pick up their master's fallen body, dragging it back towards the opposite side of the rug, disappearing beneath the couch.
The Nutcracker meanwhile had sunk to his feet in front of her, the injured arm beyond repair. He fell back, and Sil reached out to catch him, cradling him in her arms like she had done that very evening after her sister's injury. The stiff body twitched slightly, attempting to move, but the attempts appeared futile. She looked into the painted face, tears starting to form in her eyes. “You protected me,” she whispered, voice trembling, “We will get you healed, I promise.” She looked up, searching for Columbine and the Vivandiere, who had been healers during the fight and surely could fix the Nutcracker now. Her attention was brought back to the doll in her arms by his wooden hand on her arm. He shook his head, cheeky grin very misplaced in the situation. “What?” she asked softly, “What do you mean?” Her eyes widened as the Nutcracker kept on shaking his head, his hand patting her arm. “You don't... No! I won't let you die after you saved me!” She gave him a stern look with her teary eyes, “I only just got you for Christmas, I won't let you leave me now.” The patting on her arm stopped abruptly, as did his head-shake. The Nutcracker's body lay frozen in her arms, as unmoving as he had been when Herr Komuimeyer had handed him to her that evening, though that seemed a million years ago. Sil gave him a soft shake, tears truly starting to pour and drip slowly onto the Nutcracker's face, blurring some of the paint, “No!” she cried, clutching him tight, “Don't go!” Shadows fell on her and she looked up, face tear-streaked, into the faces of the dolls – the Harlequin, Columbine, the Vivandiere and the Soldier, all with their hands held to their hearts, head bowed. They were saying goodbye. One by one, they slowly walked away, back to the satchel, followed by the many little soldiers. Sil was left alone with the stiff motionless body of her Nutcracker, which she once again held close to her, rocking back and forth, tears flowing freely.
It was the sudden change of cold and stiff to warm and soft that made her draw back sharply. The first thing that struck Sil as she gazed open-mouthed at the body in her arms, was that the bright green eye that used to stare out into the world – was closed. The cheeky grin had turned into a small closed mouth. The rosiness of his cheeks was no longer produced by some red paint – it was a natural flush. Hesitantly, she poked a finger into the cheeks, which gave way in the manner only flesh could. She pulled it back quickly with a soft cry, hands pressed to her mouth and watched as his eye flew open, blinking and looking round until it found her face. His face softened, his mouth stretching into a smile. “Thank you,” he said softly, before pushing himself upright and out of her arms. Sil was still frozen with shock and stayed seated as he got up, dusting off his uniform in the same he had done when he had crawled out of the satchel, then sent her his cheeky grin, holding out his hand, “Are you coming?”
She found her voice, “H-How? Wh-” But apparently not the words. She swallowed, then tried again, “Are you... real? Alive, that is?” When he nodded, she shook her head, “But how is that possible?”
He sat on his haunches, hand still held out towards her, “I shall explain all on the way, but we really should get out of here.” He glanced towards the couch opposite the rug, “We can't be sure for how long the Earl is incapacitated.”
She followed his gaze, then looked at his hand, puzzled by the turn the events – already pretty unimaginable to begin with – but as she looked into his eye – he still had the eye patch, she noticed – she felt a surge of unexplainable trust and comfort. Nodding softly, she took his hand. He helped her up, then ushered her quickly to what looked like a thick knot in the doorpost surrounding the parlor doors. He pressed it, and it opened a small passage to – judging by the cold draft issuing from it – the outside.
“I'm not really dressed for a trek through the snow,” Sil protested, indicating her nightshirt and robe. He quickly shrugged off the coat of his uniform, draping it over her shoulders before leading her outside. There, at the edge of the small pond in the garden – which with their current stature seemed like a massive lake – a small boat lay tethered. He helped her inside and pushed off, grasping the oars and began a trek across.
“Alright, we’re away from the parlor,” she began, folding the coat closer around her, “Where exactly are we going?”
“A place that is once again available for me,” he said, focusing on moving them across the water, “An old friend has been keeping it safe while I was…”
“While you were?” she prodded, “I’m still a bit unclear as to what exactly happened back there…”
He eased up on the rowing, choosing his words, “The man in the top-hat is called the Earl. He is a powerful magician, who used his abilities for evil – creating the monsters you saw – and me and my Master – another powerful man – tried to stop him. But we weren’t strong enough. He placed me under a curse – turning me into the doll you so lovingly accepted as a gift…” He smiled softly, “Thank you, again. Without your presence, I would not have been able to call on the familiars of a friend of my Master – you saw them, the other dolls – to defeat the Earl and break the curse.”
Sil smiled back, “You’re welcome.”
Soon they reached their destination, though the rest of the trip felt to Sil like a bit of a blur. The young man led her up to what looked like a small stone cottage, though it was the size of a mansion on the inside. He introduced her to about a dozen people, who all beamed at her and thanked her thoroughly for her priceless assistance. Finally he brought her to an old man, almost bald save for a small patch on the back of his head, with dark eyes, who he introduced as his Master. The man surveyed her in silence, before giving the young redhead a whack around his ears and started berating him for his foolishness in getting cursed in the first place. The former Nutcracker took it all in his stride, still grinning brightly. His Master hardly had the time to thank Sil herself – she had not been able to get a word in since she arrived – before somewhere in the room music started playing, and the young man took her by the hand once more to lead her onto the floor to dance the night away.
~~~
Warmth. A bright light on her eyelids. With a jolt, Sil’s eyes shot open. The interior of her room slowly came into focus, and as she righted herself a bit unsteadily, needed a moment to realize that she was in her bed. A slow smile curled her lips. So it had been a dream. She sighed It had been so life-like, but if she thought about it, it had been pretty ridiculous. The warm, happy feeling of the party still swirled in her stomach though, making her feel completely content.
But the bright light streaming through the window meant it was Christmas morning! With a giddy smile, Sil threw away the covers and rushed downstairs, where, judging by the loud noises, the family had already gathered by the Christmas Tree. She threw open the doors, calling out “Good morning!” to everyone, but they hardly noticed her entering. The one who did, was her sister, who was at the edge of a small huddle of people, and spun round at her entrance, smiling brightly as she hurried over. “Oh, you have to see him, Sil!” she gushed as she grasped her sister by the arm and started to drag her towards the group.
“See who?” Sil asked, frowning, but Chaoe had no chance to answer as the group parted and she got sight of who exactly. Red hair, bright green eyes and an eye-patch. She was barely aware of her sister whispering at her side as she gaped open-mouthed at the young man. “He is Uncle Komuimeyer's nephew! He arrived sometime late last night,” Chaoe's voice was excited, “Doesn't he look just like that doll of yours? Uncle said he was modeled after him!”
“Yes,” Sil replied breathlessly, “Yes, he does.” She slowly moved forwards and when she came close, the young man caught her eye, grinning brightly and sending her a conspiratorial wink. Sil matched his grin as she reached his side, the feeling of giddiness tripled. This holiday was going to be the best one yet. “Merry Christmas!”
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Posted: Sun Dec 25, 2011 3:56 pm
For: Michi
To say that Michiyo Saruwatari was confused would be an understatement. She had gone through the day normal enough; waking up, going through her morning routine, training, and eating some of Jerry’s delicious cooking. The rest of the day had gone by in a blur, and the next thing she can remember is being in a strange courtyard near an ancient looking castle wearing robes and what looked to be a school uniform underneath. That wasn’t what had her surprised though.
“Professor Adam! We do not use transfiguration on our students as punishment!” yelled an angry Liv. No, the strangest thing yet was the fact that her mortal enemy had just saved her from being zapped by some stick thing that Kiah of all people had aimed at her. Of course, the fact that Kiah was then transformed into a ferret was also a bit bizarre, but Michiyo decided that she’d dwell on that fact later.
“Saruwatari! Come with me,” the Earl commanded, heading toward the ancient castle. Michiyo then realized that Kiah had been turned back to normal and was running off in another direction with Road and, who Michiyo thought to be Komui’s little sister, Lenalee. She gave Liv a wary look, wondering what in the world was going on, when she suddenly waved her off in the direction of her enemy.
Reluctantly, Michiyo trailed behind the Earl, poised to attack at the slightest threat even though she couldn’t feel her Innocence. She soon felt her guard lowering as she took in the moving stair cases and pictures that waved at her as she went passed, feeling her jaw drop in awe from all the seemingly magical things happening around her. The Earl finally made his way to a door and after waving Michiyo in, sat down at a desk and talked about all of the strange things in his room, saying they were to watch out for dark powers of some sort.
“Now Michiyo, do you have a plan for the first task? You do know how you’re going to tackle that dragon, correct?” the Earl asked, looking at her with a nasty gleam in his eye.
“What are you talking about? There’s no way that dragons could exsist,” Michiyo stated, trying to get him to see the ridiculousness of his question.
“Michiyo, what are you good at?” the Earl continued, seeming to ignore her sentence.
“I’m pretty good at destroying akuma,” Michiyo said, testing to see if he responds at all.
“I heard you’re a pretty good flyer,” the Earl, not taking the bait, went on; “you’re allowed a wand, so all you have to do is use it to get your broomstick.” Michiyo simply looked at him impassively before leaving the room, having been dismissed by the person she’s supposed to destroy. She started walking around the halls of the building, staring in wonder at the splendor of the castle before someone she recognized came barreling up to her.
“Sil!” Michiyo exclaimed, watching the girl come to a stop in front of her. “Sil, you won’t believe what’s going on around here!”
“Michiyo, what are you talking about?” Sil looked at her questioningly.
“The Earl was advising me on how to fight a dragon. Can you believe it Sil?” Michiyo laughed, hoping that this was all a big joke.
“The Earl? You mean Professor Adam? What did he tell you?” Sil seemed to hang on her every word, looking very eager.
“Oh, ah, he told me I should use my wand thing to get my broomstick? Something of that sort,” Michiyo answered, looking a bit lost. Sil’s eyes seemed to light up in understanding, grabbing Michiyo and leading her to a room behind one of the big moving pictures.
After finding her so-called wand in her pocket and being directed on what type of spell to use in order to get her broomstick, or Firebolt as Sil called it, Michiyo felt as if everything was spinning out of control and blurring around the edges. She attempted to pick things out as they happened around her, but her awareness didn’t come back to her until she was in a tent with four other people that she was familiar with. Leverrier had everyone gather around him and dig in a bag for a figure of the dragon they’d be trying to get a golden egg from.
Michiyo stared at them all in confusion, wondering why everyone seemed to be acting so different. Lulubell, was shaking a bit with a wary look on her face, Tyki Mikk seemed completely emotionless, and Bak was shuffling his feet in nervousness. Lulubell was the first to pick and from the order they were in, Michiyo would be the last.
“You’ll have the Welsh Green,” Leverrier stated with a charming smile, leaving Michiyo looking at him with slight disbelief. In Lulubell’s hand was a mini dragon that blew little puffs of fire. They went around the circle, Tyki Mikk getting a Chinese Fireball, Bak against a Swedish Short-Snout, and Michiyo ending up with the Hungarian Horntail, which would apparently be the fiercest if the scratches she got from the smaller version were to be believed.
“Great…” Michiyo muttered, thinking that at this point if this was a joke, they were taking it too far. She started pacing inside the tent waiting for her turn while glancing at Lulubell and Tyki warily, as Bak was the first to go, wondering if this was a ploy to get her alone with them. If they noticed they weren’t showing it, because Tyki simply stared into space while sitting in one of the chairs, and Lulubell had her own set of tracks from pacing. Time seemed to speed up as Lulubell was called to the enclosure, then Tyki, leaving Michiyo to pace until her turn was up. Finally hearing the whistle, Michiyo gulped and made her way to the opening of the tent.
Upon entering the arena, Michiyo was greeted by the roars of both the audience and the big, black dragon chained on the opposite side of the enclosure. Resisting the urge to leave her mouth hang open at the sight of the yellow-eyed beast in front of her, Michiyo examined the area with calm eyes, seeing that if she needed cover she’d be able to find it in this rocky terrain. Focusing on the egg, Michiyo brought the Firebolt to the forefront of her mind, and called out the spell that she was taught.
“Accio Firebolt,” Michiyo yelled, diving behind the boulders closest to her location, as her voice agitated the dragon enough to breathe fire in her direction. Successfully avoiding being barbequed, Michiyo shook in fear, waiting to see if the broomstick that she was supposed to fly on would actually come.
‘I wish I at least knew other spells for this stupid thing!’ she thought, glaring at the stick that was supposed to help her. Looking and up and seeing a broom flying toward her, Michiyo decided she wouldn’t snap her wand yet. She hurriedly jumped on and attempted to get her bearings on the foreign object, clutching on tight when she rolled it a few times. The dragon decided that it had had enough of watching Michiyo try to control her broom and blew fire in her direction.
Swerving chaotically, Michiyo managed to get out of range of the dragon’s fire and up high enough where she could figure out how to maneuver her broom. The dragon, realizing that there was no way she could hit Michiyo from where she was, ducked down before heaving mightily upward, wings flapping with all of their strength and breaking her chains.
“Uh oh,” Michiyo said, eyes wide in panic after finally getting control of her broomstick. The dragon rushed toward her in the air, so Michiyo hurriedly headed in the opposite direction toward the castle, the dragon only twenty feet behind her. Michiyo tipped her broomstick up and flew over the castle, bringing it down sharply to avoid the flames that singed the tip of the tower, and spotted the lake.
‘Maybe that’s its weakness,’ Michiyo debated, changing direction toward it and dodging another flame headed for her. When she was a sufficient distance away, she suddenly dove downward, feeling the wind buffeting her body and the dragon hot on her heels. When she was just a few feet from crashing, she suddenly pulled up to fly above the water, hearing a giant, satisfying splash behind her. Smiling to herself, Michiyo made her way back to the arena at a leisurely pace.
When she was right over the enclosure, she suddenly heard flapping and looked behind her with dread, seeing a black blur headed toward her in rage. She dove, attempting to grab the egg and hope that the dragon would be restrained when she completed her task, pulling up and speeding toward it. She felt and saw smoke being blown at her, making her glad she tried her little stunt by the lake, but also knowing that the dragon was only a short distance behind her. Getting closer, she reached her arm out and looked behind her one last time to see the gaping maw of the dragon, before she grabbed the egg and…
Michiyo woke up with a start from her spot on the couch, breathing heavily and causing everyone in the Common Room to look at her in confusion.
“Michiyo, are you all right?” Liv asked, worried for her orange-haired friend.
“Yeah, I was just having a weird dream,” Michiyo answered a bit distractedly, looking down at the book she was reading.
“It must’ve been. For the last few minutes you were struggling like crazy!” Sil stated, causing Kiah, Lavi, and Road to nod in agreement. Michiyo looked at them bit embarrassed, and simply gathered up her things.
“I think I’m just going to go train for awhile,” Michiyo said. After exiting the room, she mumbled to herself, “that is the last time I have eggnog and read before sleeping.”
Merry Christmas, Michiyo!
From,
Your Secret Santa
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Ghost-it Notes Vice Captain
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Posted: Sun Dec 25, 2011 10:20 pm
YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY! <3 <3 <3
I loveeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeed seeing and reading all of the presents! Absolutely wonderful! Thank you guys so much for participating. ;u; I hope you had fuuuuuun!
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Posted: Tue Dec 27, 2011 6:58 pm
Oh my gosh! Those pictures are absolutely fantastic! The uniform looks amazing, the Masquerade dress is perfect, and the Kiah/Komui moment made me go "Awwww". Thank you Secret Santa! biggrin
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