[narrative] last one :x
[I'm trying to see if I can get his voice back/louder so yes. :x]
Christmas, at least until last year, was never a great deal to Josef. He wasn't religious, his parents weren't religious, and they weren't big on celebrations that didn't involve showing their high esteemed friends how much better they were than everybody else.
It was always some fancy event.
Everyone pretended they were being philanthropists when really, all they wanted was a pat on the back and the perception they were wonderful.
He's always been good at the charade himself. No, Christmas was never a great deal to Josef. Christmas is about family and giving, and neither were really important to anyone ever named a Soltini or a Demidov. He is and always has been defined by what he knows.
And he used to know charades. He used to be good at them. He used to know what it meant to be a Soltini.
Lately, he isn't sure if he is so good at any of it as he once was.
This year, his perspective has changed immeasurably. There isn't a fancy party to host and there aren't lavish gifts to give and be given.
Which isn't to say he's happy to find coal in his home.
You have got to be kidding him.
He looks up at the sky, as if speaking to the Rift. "Oh, ha."
Josef isn't surprised he didn't get anything similar to the rest of the Chicagoans. A trinket from his past, a materialistic item they'd been longing for, an endless supply of their favorite thing.
Why would he when he already has everything he wants that is possible?
Christmas, at least until last year, was never a great deal to Josef. He wasn't religious, his parents weren't religious, and they weren't big on celebrations that didn't involve showing their high esteemed friends how much better they were than everybody else.
It was always some fancy event.
Everyone pretended they were being philanthropists when really, all they wanted was a pat on the back and the perception they were wonderful.
He's always been good at the charade himself. No, Christmas was never a great deal to Josef. Christmas is about family and giving, and neither were really important to anyone ever named a Soltini or a Demidov. He is and always has been defined by what he knows.
And he used to know charades. He used to be good at them. He used to know what it meant to be a Soltini.
Lately, he isn't sure if he is so good at any of it as he once was.
This year, his perspective has changed immeasurably. There isn't a fancy party to host and there aren't lavish gifts to give and be given.
Which isn't to say he's happy to find coal in his home.
You have got to be kidding him.
He looks up at the sky, as if speaking to the Rift. "Oh, ha."
Josef isn't surprised he didn't get anything similar to the rest of the Chicagoans. A trinket from his past, a materialistic item they'd been longing for, an endless supply of their favorite thing.
Why would he when he already has everything he wants that is possible?