Gifts! And Issues. Because we are never Without Issues.
It's a bit late, but a few people will find gifts from Adrian lying about where he's left them in secret.
For Alice, a bit of pretty blue ribbon for her hair.
James Vane, upon his return, will find a package just inside his door. Inside is a copy of Twenty-thousand Leagues Under the Sea and a note saying, simply "I love you."
For Sibyl Vane, a set of hair combs, probably not new (he could never afford that) but certainly pretty. They are left just outside her door, wrapped up nicely with a pretty bow -- with help from a headmate, of course, as his hands aren't particularly steady. The card reads only "Happy Christmas!"
Dorian Gray will find a book of Byron's poems tucked away in his desk or some other place, buried among other things, as if the person who left it there would almost rather it weren't found. There isn't any note left with them, but anyone casually flipping through it might notice a few sheets of paper tucked inside -- these are poems Adrian wrote to him ages ago. They aren't any good, which may be why he's never shown them until now, but from the numerous lines that have been struck out and rewritten, it's possible to guess that a great deal of time was spent on them. He doesn't wish to keep them any longer, and thinks perhaps Dorian ought to have them.
After the gifts are delivered, Adrian goes to curl up in bed, feeling none too well. The tremors have begun, and he's feeling rather cold. He ought to take something before it gets too bad, but he doesn't; he only wraps his shabby blanket tighter about himself as if he might disappear into it, with enough luck.
For Alice, a bit of pretty blue ribbon for her hair.
James Vane, upon his return, will find a package just inside his door. Inside is a copy of Twenty-thousand Leagues Under the Sea and a note saying, simply "I love you."
For Sibyl Vane, a set of hair combs, probably not new (he could never afford that) but certainly pretty. They are left just outside her door, wrapped up nicely with a pretty bow -- with help from a headmate, of course, as his hands aren't particularly steady. The card reads only "Happy Christmas!"
Dorian Gray will find a book of Byron's poems tucked away in his desk or some other place, buried among other things, as if the person who left it there would almost rather it weren't found. There isn't any note left with them, but anyone casually flipping through it might notice a few sheets of paper tucked inside -- these are poems Adrian wrote to him ages ago. They aren't any good, which may be why he's never shown them until now, but from the numerous lines that have been struck out and rewritten, it's possible to guess that a great deal of time was spent on them. He doesn't wish to keep them any longer, and thinks perhaps Dorian ought to have them.
After the gifts are delivered, Adrian goes to curl up in bed, feeling none too well. The tremors have begun, and he's feeling rather cold. He ought to take something before it gets too bad, but he doesn't; he only wraps his shabby blanket tighter about himself as if he might disappear into it, with enough luck.