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who ; Flynn and Alan
what ; Alan gets his Christmas present
where ; R12 - Tronhouse
when ; Christmas
warning(s); Tearing your characters emotions asunder is a goddamn past-time.
Alan had not given today any thought of weight of significance; skipping the task of having to explain to half of the complex what today even meant most like had something to do with it. There was a steady snowfall and good company, there wasn't any want in him by the time December 25th ticked and tocked on his holo-bracelet's display. This morning had been anymore only with more lights decorating the complex (and that was saying something, given the residents). He hadn't even taken notice of the green and gold paper wrapped package sitting below their artificially scented tree until he almost stepped on it en route to the kitchen.
The perfection in its wrappings caught his eyes well before Alan took notice it was addressed to none other then himself. He picked up, and mulled over this seemingly innocuous little box, so sure in his memory that he told the residents of the house not to bother. Yet here was this little box, so perfectly tied and wrapped.
To: Alan T. Bradley. From...no one. The tag was typed and had only his name, and nothing else to go on. That this was Sacrosanct and not safe little Earth should have triggered Alan's internal alarms right then and there, but all was silent in the house as he gathered his anonymously given gift and retreated to his room-office to open it in relative privacy. That was his second mistake.
At his desk there was no tearing at the paper with wild abandon. Alan treated it like a live bomb, or baby bird. He gingerly pealed the tape off each side of the box before slowly unfurling the shimmering paper, then he took one deep breath, and opened it.
There was an exhale, a pause.
Then Alan violently threw his gold and green gift so hard against his office door that it ricocheted with such force, it shook the and bounced back to his feet only to be kicked back again in his broken temper.
what ; Alan gets his Christmas present
where ; R12 - Tronhouse
when ; Christmas
warning(s); Tearing your characters emotions asunder is a goddamn past-time.
Alan had not given today any thought of weight of significance; skipping the task of having to explain to half of the complex what today even meant most like had something to do with it. There was a steady snowfall and good company, there wasn't any want in him by the time December 25th ticked and tocked on his holo-bracelet's display. This morning had been anymore only with more lights decorating the complex (and that was saying something, given the residents). He hadn't even taken notice of the green and gold paper wrapped package sitting below their artificially scented tree until he almost stepped on it en route to the kitchen.
The perfection in its wrappings caught his eyes well before Alan took notice it was addressed to none other then himself. He picked up, and mulled over this seemingly innocuous little box, so sure in his memory that he told the residents of the house not to bother. Yet here was this little box, so perfectly tied and wrapped.
To: Alan T. Bradley. From...no one. The tag was typed and had only his name, and nothing else to go on. That this was Sacrosanct and not safe little Earth should have triggered Alan's internal alarms right then and there, but all was silent in the house as he gathered his anonymously given gift and retreated to his room-office to open it in relative privacy. That was his second mistake.
At his desk there was no tearing at the paper with wild abandon. Alan treated it like a live bomb, or baby bird. He gingerly pealed the tape off each side of the box before slowly unfurling the shimmering paper, then he took one deep breath, and opened it.
There was an exhale, a pause.
Then Alan violently threw his gold and green gift so hard against his office door that it ricocheted with such force, it shook the and bounced back to his feet only to be kicked back again in his broken temper.