Welcome to Gaia! ::

The child took small, flitting steps, the hem of her golden gown brushing gently along the snow-dusted sidewalk. Half-lidded lapis lazuli eyes took in the Christmas decorations that graced the storefronts with mild interest. Dainty hands, unmarred by the callouses of hard work, drew the fur-lined, snow-white cloak closer around her to ward of the biting cold of December. She'd originally came to buy gifts, but found that the stores around here held nothing she deemed...suitable. Where was the golden sheen of priceless trinkets? The lavish, intricate weavings of pearls and jewels? Cookies baked with real saffron and the sweetest of creams, accompanied by the decadent viands? The girl didn't seem frustrated, simply disappointed. This was Christmas, after all; the best time of year for the stores to carry the kind of gifts she felt were fit to bestow upon her family and loved ones. Her eyes saw nothing of proper worth, ignoring hand-sewn clothing that was painstakingly embroidered by the diligent shop owner and the carved, whittled toys of another. Those items were quaint, but they weren't valuable enough to suit her tastes, nor did they cost enough.

Oriana was pulled from her personal thoughts as a small form tumbled into her, nearly knocking the girl off of her balance. The girl's eyes fell on the distasteful subject before her as she brushed her dress off, as if it had become soiled from the contact. Before her stood a small child, dressed in thin, ragged clothes that were definitely not suited for the weather. The only thing that protected the little boy from the harsh winter chill was a small, worn coat the color of dirt. The boy looked up at the girl, eyes sparkling. "Wow, missus, yer really pritta!" the child said, his "coarse" accent falling harshly on the girl's delicate shells of ears.

"I know," she said, her tone polite and honey-coated. Well, the boy couldn't be blamed for his status. And, as de riguer of a young lady, she owed the child her pity. After all, it was highly unlikely that one such as himself would ever know the luxuries she had grown oh-so accustomed to, nor would he enjoy the same quality life as her. The child smiled at the younger boy; while he'd never live a life as golden-laced and rose-tinted as hers, that couldn't stop her from bestowing him a small taste of this life. Reaching into the folds of her dress to find the small bag she kept chained to her side, she pulled a small, golden chain out of the bag. It wasn't anything she held dear to her; just a drab, unjeweled necklace of silver links that she'd plated herself. Still, she could bet it was the nicest thing the little ragamuffin would hold in his hands for a while. "Here. Wassail and season's sentiments," she said, her voice a low half-purr. She gave a small, pitying smile as the boy's eyes coruscated at the gift, tiny, dirt-grimed hands grasping around the chain as the boy chirped out an enthusiastic thanks.

Deciding to further her charitable act, she offered the boy her her dainty hand. Such a caring girl she was, allowing the boy to touch her with such filthy, sooty paws of hands. She'd allow him to walk with her a ways before she decided to make her departure. Forcing a small, semi-maternal smile as the little fingers wrapped around her own, she made her way down the sidewalk. She nodded politely at the boy's idle chatter, not paying much attention to his words. They walked past lighted store fronts and ornamented tree displays, past toy trains making never ending rounds on tiny tracks and small, ceramic snowy villages that never knew the harshness of real snow. Oriana's tiny little steps stopped, however, at the front of a cathedral and the choir that stood by the sidewalk in front of it. The lilting voices vocalized the lines of "Adeste Fideles", faces looking up to the grey-clouded sky, never diverting, even as the snow flurries began to increase in weight and frequency.


Before the the singers sat a box, carefully decorated in white and gold paint. The sign on the front proclaimed its purposed, despite how obvious it was: "Donations for the Less Fortunate". Oriana chuckled; what a cute little gesture. Well, she figured she could part with something, being the charitable soul she was. She was reaching for her bag when what she saw made her freeze, her usually-half-lidded eyes widening. The little boy was pulling the chain off of his neck, little feet padding over, tip-toes stretching as he reached up to drop the chain, the only valuable item he visibly had on him, into the donation box. This was uncomprehendable to the child. Didn't he realize he was one of the unfortunates that was being funded by the donations? After a brief moment of useless mussitation, Oriana managed to murmur out her question. "Why?"

The little boy looked up at her, his confusion asking if it wasn't obvious. "Well, I afiggered that summun else needed it more," he said, little shoulders shrugging. "Yeah, I liked it an all, but summun out dair is needing it more. I dun need it; but dey do."

The selflessness of the boy moved something in Oriana's heart, though what she wasn't sure. A dainty little hand reached up to her snow-blushed cheek, feeling the wetness that had freed itself and fled down her cheek. Here was a child with nothing to his name....and he cared more for people he didn't even know than for his own worldly possessions, however little he owned. And earlier, she'd been looking down upon this boy for his scruffiness. She'd never even bothered to look for the gilded glow within; the one she saw shining now, the one that moved her to tears for no tangible reason.