Snowflakes and Cookies{Sweet and Seven}
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		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Exotic Solos =&gt; Topic started by: SweetSerenade on 12-01-2015, 05:50:25</h2>
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				Title: <strong>Snowflakes and Cookies{Sweet and Seven}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>SweetSerenade</strong> on <strong>12-01-2015, 05:50:25</strong>
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				The woman had been trying to get to her letter all month, but after recent developments she knew she had to get her letter out. Winter was much older than she had been, when she first saw Santa and his Elves. Now a woman of twenty-three years of age, she was apparently getting on the last strand of her parents nerves. Though she did a lot of charity work, and that looked good for them socially, she had thus far turned down any attempts they had made to make alliances with more powerful families. As a result, they were marked as a family that had a difficult, trouble making, strange looking daughter. <br><br>Winter had been given an ultimatum, before she retreated to her Sanctuary. Her parents had eventually gotten a large house in the suburbs, one with a long drive way and a private electronic fence. Their six car garage had been specially made, who had that many cars anyways it was just so damn ridiculous, and when they made it Winter requested that they make a several bedroom apartment above the Garage. Something for her uses, a place where she could retreat to.&nbsp; A place that was all her own. <br><br>That was where she retreated to now, a string of rather holiday-esque curses leaving her pretty little lips. "Jingle Bells and Blizzard nuts... this is stupid! I can't believe they are forcing me to get married." She cursed as she went into her room and sat down to write the letter she had been putting off so long. Her parents had informed her they would be around for only one more day, and then they wouldn't return till after the Holidays. Winter had till then to give her answer about the marriage to the son of a CEO of a large company. <br><br>Her quill dipped into her pot, and then her hand moved as the ink scrolled across her handmade parchment. Her head tucked down, tears dripping down from her pale blue eyes, as she wrote. She knew that tears would splot the pages, but she was essentially writing what would be a goodbye. The new husband, she had met him, was someone that had no room for nonesense like Christmas. He didn't even believe in celebrating holidays. <br><br><em>Dear Santa, <br><br>For many years I have been faithful in my writing to you. I have always believed, and&nbsp; I have always done what I could to be a good person. But it seems that fate always has a way of making things happen ways you do not want them to be. You see I have asked for many years, for one thing. I wanted my parents home for the Holidays, but I have slowly come to accept that is outside of your powers. It is not right of me to ask something so selfish from you. <br><br>Instead, this year I write to say goodbye. I am to be married soon, against my will, or I end up on the streets. My parents have made it clear that my new husband, whom I have met, will not abide by 'silly' celebrations. They told me that either I accept this marriage or my allowances will be cut off. I cannot do the things I do, without it, I would be unable to do the charity work I do. I would be on the street. <br><br>With this in mind I ask for one thing, and one thing only. I wish for you to give me a final Christmas, a memorable one that will keep me happy through my years of lonliness that are ahead. <br><br>Always Faithful,<br>Winter Solstice</em><br><br>The letter was written and then slid into the delicately designed envelope. She sent it off and then returned to her room, to throw herself on her bed. She needed a nap, and she needed a good cry. She let her hair down, the pale white blond hair floating around her as she stripped herself down and crawled under her sheets. This was her only safe place, and soon enough even that would be taken from her. <br><br><hr><br>The letter arrived, in a flurry of commotion. It was only a week before Christmas, and everything was hectic at the North Pole. The Mail elves had been told to send this particular letter straight up as soon as it had arrived. The Big Man, Scott Calvin, had been increasingly worried about this particular believer. He had had some ideas of her life, through his son Charlie, but it seemed like something was out to destroy this kind hearted young woman. <br><br>His concerns were confirmed when the letter arrived and he found himself reading it. "Go get Bernard, quickly!" He said as he started to mull over a few things on his desk. He started to look through paperwork, and a plan started to form. He would make a company, easy enough given the money and assets he had. He would make Bernard the CEO, and send Bernard as a sort of Red Herring to give Winter more time and more of a choice. THough he wouldn't tell Bernard, he was actually hoping that Bernard would see this as an oppourtunity to see a different future. <br><br>Santa had noticed the decline in the elves, and the fact there hasn't been any new ones born. Which could be reflected by the rather wound up nature of their Arch Elf. He would make Bernard take this 'mission', and hope it ended up as a vacation. As soon as his Arch Elf did arrive, he would merely motion to the Letter that had arrived, the one from Winter. "We have a problem."
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				Title: <strong>Re: Snowflakes and Cookies{Sweet and Seven}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>13-01-2015, 07:12:48</strong>
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				If anyone had actually asked Bernard, he would have had to say that he couldn't remember actually going to sleep, but upon waking up with his head mashed into a pile of stuffed rabbits, he felt he had no choice but to begrudgingly accept that it had happened.&nbsp; Somewhere around the general area of his jaw, there was a button eye jabbing into his skin and something was itching the back of his neck so he patted around his nape until he came away with a long cord of silver garland that had been haphazardly strung across him. <br><br>This was the problem with being in close quarters with a large population of his kind - they were diligent to begin with, but they tended to influence each other with their particular brand of energy and often went from industrious to obsessive in short order, particularly around that time of year.&nbsp; Something about Christmas made Elves crack a little bit, thousands of tiny people would eat too much and dance too much and it turned into the festive version of an '80s party - Bernard would know, he'd seen several centuries of '80s - only the hangovers came from massive sugar crashes.&nbsp; <br><br>He felt like he had one of those right then, but as was the norm, he hadn't actually had the time to invest himself in the festivities - there had been too much to do, which was precisely what had led to him cramming his head into a corner full of toy bunnies in an attempt to get a few minutes of quiet.&nbsp; As a general rule, his kind didn't need a whole lot of rest, so when any of them took an unplanned nap, it was generally considered good form - and the kind thing - to let a sleeping elf lie.<br><br>Of course, this didn't mean they would necessary be able to resist the urge to decorate him in the process; it was less like hazing and more like a compulsion, they couldn't resist decorating their surroundings, and the moment an elf was motionless, they became a part of the decor.&nbsp; <br><br>Any other time and Bernard might have been able to accept his impromptu siesta - though probably not - but on the twenty-fourth of December, he found his gratitude was lacking.&nbsp; Arch Elves, he felt, were not supposed to sleep on the job, and as far back as he could remember - and he could remember <em>very</em> far back - he had never done it before, and certainly not so close to Christmas.<br><br>He staggered to his feet and a pile of ribbons and glitter fell off of his hat and shoulders and back like a festive baptism and he batted a strand of tinsel out of his face, trying to get his footing.&nbsp; Around him was organized chaos; toy trains whistled past him on their virgin voyages across the shop-wide tracks, elves buzzed by on push-scooters going through their beta test, bubbles rolled across the air as machines spat them out.&nbsp; <br><br>He barely made it three steps before Judy was in front of him, examining him in that quiet way she had,<br><br>"The Big Man needs you." she said, carefully dusting a bit of loose glitter from the front of his shirt; as usual, Judy looked unaffected by the world around her, walking a few inches above all of the insanity.&nbsp; There were days Bernard would have given anything to have her level of calm but then he remembered that Arch Elves didn't get their positions because they were calm - they got their positions because they were, perhaps, the most obsessive of the lot of them.&nbsp; <br><br>"Can it wait?" he asked, though he knew what the answer to that would be.<br><br>"It already did," she said, "I came to get you earlier but I didn't have the heart to wake you up."<br><br>Bernard's embarrassment slipped through the cracks of his expression and she gave him a friendly pat on the back.<br><br>"Honestly, I'm just glad you're up." she said brightly, "It means Curtis has to fill my doll quota for the next two weeks, he thought you'd have been out for at least another hour."<br><br>"You made <em>bets</em>?"<br><br>"And won.&nbsp; One should <em>never</em> make bets with an elf in Statistics, we know how everything works." she said, "Go see the boss, he's been antsy."<br><br>"Antsy?" Bernard asked, "<em>Santa?</em>&nbsp; That's never good.&nbsp; This isn't a repeat of last year's Dasher incident is it?&nbsp; I told the guys in Stables to stop giving him carrots, he's got a sensitive stomach."<br><br>"The reindeer are fine, this is about a letter." she said, and though her face was kind, there was a soft tension between her eyebrows that told of a much deeper problem, "It came late."<br><br>Making his way across the shop was like managing a minefield, but Bernard had done it for so long that he knew precisely when to step faster or slower, when to dodge and hop and duck to get through all of it unscathed, through Mechanics and Elven Resources and past the kitchens where the smell of candied orange and cloves had taken over the hallways.<br><br>The first thing he noticed when he got to the big guy's office was that he hadn't touched his cocoa, which was a good indication that things were worse than he thought.<br><br>"You look perturbed." Bernard said as he went for the letter he was directed to, plucking it up off the table; the first thing he noticed about it was that the paper wasn't processed, it was something old-school, and for a distressed moment he wondered if the letter was decades old and had been misplaced.&nbsp; The second thing he noticed was it had been written with a quill, given the way it had been scratched onto the paper.<br><br>The third thing, and this was a less conscious one, was that it carried a scent, one his kind was sensitive to - it was the smell of grief.&nbsp; It made the Arch Elf want to put the letter down and get away from it and shove his head into a box of cookies, but he read it anyways, then read it again, and by the third time he read it, his mouth was pulled into an unhappy line.<br><br>"You can see why I'm perturbed." Santa said, resting his chin on his fist.<br><br>"I can see why you're perturbed." Bernard agreed, setting the letter down between them, crossing his arms up against himself; he wouldn't have sent for him if he didn't have something in mind, so he asked the question, "So what's the plan here, big guy?" <br><br>The day had just crawled into evening when Bernard found himself far from home, standing on a snowy sidewalk and staring at a house he had never seen before; the place was massive, and it occurred to him that it could fit several families inside of it, and certainly most of the population of the Shop.<br><br>It had taken a while for Santa to fully brief him on what was going to happen and while Bernard hadn't agreed to the scheme, he hadn't exactly disagreed either - it was more that he had been stunned into silence and by the time he got his bearings, he was holding an armful of human clothes and being shoved in the direction of the United States.&nbsp; <br><br>He tugged uncomfortably at the button-up he was wearing, unaccustomed to the way human clothes fit so closely - he had argued that Santa didn't have to wear this kind of thing, but the big man had pointed out that it wasn't easy to find clothes his size anymore - someone Bernard's size wasn't a challenge.&nbsp; Still, it felt like he was wearing a costume in spite of the fact he'd managed to barter to keep his hat.<br><br>It had been a long time since he had been outside of the North Pole; after the whole Jack Frost debacle, he'd set his heels firmly into the snow and refused to be displaced, lest the figurative gingerbread house crumbled again.&nbsp; It had taken some sincere effort to get the Shop back together after that and, yeah, maybe he'd gotten a little fixated on keeping things going smoothly, but still.<br><br>Bernard wasn't sure how long he'd been standing out there, but strands of lights turned on outside some of the houses, indicating he had maybe been procrastinating.&nbsp; <br><br>Centuries doing his job and it was the first time Bernard could remember feeling anxious about it - he was out of his element.&nbsp; <br><br>He had no idea how to pretend he was human.<br><br>In retrospect, knocking might have been a good first step, but the Arch Elf completely overlooked it, stepping directly through the door as though it didn't exist, bringing him into a wide, dimly-lit foyer.&nbsp; Holding onto a small cotton bag of wrapped little presents, Bernard considered that he had no idea what Santa had gotten him into.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Snowflakes and Cookies{Sweet and Seven}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>SweetSerenade</strong> on <strong>13-01-2015, 07:25:22</strong>
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				Winter had finally awakened from her nap, and part of her wondered if she should just keep sleeping. It was widely known that sleeping too much, or too little, was a sign of depression. That probably explained her obsession with sweets lately. But she awakened to the sound of bells jingling, and her eyes opened to see a whisp of something rush away from her pillow. There sitting on her pillow was a letter, and she found she wasn't shocked at all. She was more concerned that Santa had expended magic, for someone like her, this close to the Holidays. It was coming to crunch time, and she knew that usually flagrant magical use was saved for the festivities held after Santa left on Christmas Eve. <br><br>Charlie had told her quite a few stories about how crazy elf parties got, and how the elves had changed as he had grown older. Apparently the whole 'child like' thin had been a glamour, something they used to put others more at ease. Didn't mean they weren't still short though, except for that Bernard he kept talking about. Though Winter had spent a long time wheedling him, and explaining her stance - and perhaps even the big guy had told Charlie it was ok to let Winter in on the Secret. The girl had very little to make her joyful, and having someone to talk to was a good thing. <br><br>After reading the letter she realized she was going to have a guest. It was a good thing her place above the garage had several rooms, because otherwise there would be some issues. She flew from her bed, dressing herself in warm black leggings. She threw on a knee length pleated white velvet skirt, and put on a white turtleneck. She grabbed her jacket and gloves, and took a moment to comb through her hair. She raced from her 'room' to the door and opened it, flying down the steps she was moving so fast. <br><br>She would explain it to her parents, as Santa had said. This was a Friend of Charlies' the CEO of the Toy Company that Scott Calvin now owned. That was the easiest way to explain things, and it was the least bit of a concern to her. They wouldn't be home for another couple of hours, knowing them, and when they did they would probably be drunk. She would leave a note for them, for later. But for now she was running down the snow covered driveway and skidding to a stop when she saw the male slipping magically through the door into the house. She raced to the door and opened it, coming up behind him a grin on her face.. "Bernard, right?" She said as she released a pant of air, it crystalized making that fog that warm breath often did in this weather. "I'm Winter Solstice, the Big Man said you were coming... You can come up to my place... I have some cocoa and we can get you set up with a room." She was practically buzzing, for once she wouldn't be alone for the Holidays! "I dont' stay in the man house, I live in the apartment above the gargage, It'll be nicer there."
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