Backdated to December 21, 2025
Taste of Memory - Holiday '25 Prompt

Winter wasn’t her fondest season. Vivian shivered slightly beneath her ample layers, tucking her nose firmer into the thick wool scarf tossed about her neck and lower face. She almost wished that strange energy orb, wisp thing, was here with her. Might be able to offer a little bit of warmth, maybe..?

She’d made the choice to go shopping for some gifts for her coworkers, sure, and she had no qualms with spending what she’d managed to set aside for such festivities. She just wished it wasn’t so cold! Another gust of wind through the streets made her grimace, pulling her arms tighter around herself. The heavy, long coat over a thick sweater, over a long dress, over a thermal shirt and winter leggings... and she still didn’t feel remotely warm enough. This was torture. She’d only gotten off the bus and was walking a block down to the next shop on her list, that was it! She wasn’t going on some huge hike, and yet her body was shivering like crazy, and she hated every moment of this.

Really, Vivian felt a tad pathetic for all her internal complaints. She’d made her choices, after all...

The wall of storefronts beside her fell away as buildings opened up to a wide courtyard between the neighboring facilities and offices. Christmas lights were strewn about in sweeping arches and dazzling snowflake eruptions, fake trees glimmering and glittering, bejeweled and bedecked between brightly lit stalls. Numerous outdoor heaters were arranged around the space, offering a dense layer of warmth for shoppers and sellers alike to take advantage of. Vivian couldn’t help herself. Didn’t even try.

She immediately beelined right into the courtyard, drawn far more for the warmth than the displays of crafts and foods and whatever other wares the vendors had on display. Children giggled over wood-carved toys at one stall, and others fiddled with 3D-printed contraptions and clinking fidgets. Their friends and families snuck similar toys off to the sellers behind their backs, adding in whatever last-minute gifts had jumped out to them. Local vendors, all of them—supporting local businesses certainly always drove Vivian to spend a bit more than she might have otherwise planned. Seemed that might be a similar train of thought for others. Or more likely, they were better at budgeting than she was and more aware of local events.

Sweet and savory smells danced through the air, teasing Vivian even through the thick scarf. She followed her nose through the winding short trail of stalls, finding one set up with a large kettle in the back. Dense, delicious scents of herbs and cooked meat, fresh bread, cider... all of it coiled lazily around her head, and Vivian felt any reluctance crumble as she got into line. One order, payment, short wait, and shuffle to locate a spot at one of the tables with some of the outdoor heaters around them, later....

She sat in relative comfort with her bread bowl of beef stew and a cup of mulled cider. The mixture of scents warmed her more than she had anticipated, but when she took that first spoonful of warm broth and veggies and beef... something else bloomed through her senses. Warmth. So much warmth. Like a large fire was roaring away in a hearth not far from her, the pot hung over it, still sending more delicious-smelling steam into the air. People laughed, more hardy, fresh bread was passed around. Mugs of mead and ale and ciders clinked and clanked, the air alive with the warmth of companionship as much as it was alit from the fire. She could almost hear the distant sound of waves below the friendly cacophony.

They were all memories, nothing more. But Vivian ate slowly, savoring the flavors as much as the recollections they sparked. Mara’s, she was pretty sure, likely some fragment she’d seen while she’d been adrift in the crystal on Morgan. But they were... so, so warm. It settled about her like a thick blanket, lovely and sweet.

Even in the depths of winter, this city kept finding ways of harboring warm, brilliant havens. The good as much as the bad. Fitting.


WC: 693