All alone without even her mother for the first time at Christmas, Carrie had come down to look at the Christmas tree, far grander than any they'd ever put up in the cramped quarters they'd called home in Chamberlain.
She arrived just in time to hear Thorn's impassioned speech. Her blood boiled, and before she could stop it one of the glass spheres on the tree exploded into splinters.
"I don't think so, Tempter," she spat. "Josh won't make war against you. Doesn't mean his believers won't. Don't think I won't."
She telekinetically lifted one of the larger shards of colored glass into the air and shot it toward Thorn, stopping it just centimeters short of his face.
"You ain't seen the half of what I can do, if I really have to."
He reached forward and plucked the shard of glass out of the air. "I'm sure you think whatever it is you claim to be able to do would be quite spectacular," he said. Damien rubbed his thumb over the tip of the shard, before pressing down and embedding the glass in his flesh. "But then again, you may be in for a surprise, as well."
Ian Malcolm had come into the Great Hall, not for the Christmas tree (being Jewish, he had a menorah going in his room) but for a very late supper. He'd stopped short at the sight of a man in a suit who was in fact a dead ringer for his friend Dr. Grant during Grant's youthening-potion experiment - except that Ian had never seen Grant's face filled with such hatred or malevolence.
He stood and listened to the last bit of the man's exchange with the girl, under the guise of staring at the tree, then took a deep breath and stepped forward.
"Hi, guys! Always nice to see a happy couple under the mistletoe!" He pointed up, to the bough hanging above their heads.
Ian didn't even blink at the glare, and his grin stayed wide and amiable.
"Awww. C'mon, pal, it's a public hall. And it's Christmas! You gotta kiss under the mistletoe!" He leaned forward and whispered to both of them, "You'll get a lump of coal in your stockings if you don't."
*Skip ambles into the Great Hall, looking for a snack. Overhearing Damien's speech as he leans casually against the wall, sipping a glass of eggnog, he decides that what this guy needs to cheer up is some good old-fashioned cynicism.*
If "Nazarene" is who I think it is, you may not have as far to go as you think. Most people these days are in Christmas for the food and the presents.
Oh, and you might want to get out of the habit of soliloquizing - there's always someone listening in around here. *Skip points at himself.* Case in point.
Damien scowled. "Presents. Part of that 'Christmas spirit.' An increase of kindness, generosity, and love. It's sickening."
He looked Skip over. "More proof that people here need better things to do with their time," he said. "Either they need to find something, or I'm sure something will be found for them."
Yes, but there's a corresponding increase in avarice, envy, and despair. So it balances out. Might even be a net gain for your side, if you're opposed to this guy. *Skip nods at the Christmas tree.*
People here haven't got anything better to do with their time. Socialization's all that ever happens around here. And if you manage to have a monologue, then you need to make a few friends or at least some quality enemies here. Or possibly one of those one-sided relationships where you think you're enemies and they think you're friends, or vice-versa. This is speaking as a professional extrovert, you understand.
"It's hardly enough, when the weak-minded fool keep dragging themselves to church, coming back to His forgiveness, even if they've been the most prolific sinners the rest of the year."
"Quality enemies, I have. Friends are not something I'm concerned with."
"Yeah, and that was the worst 'yo momma' insult ever." Josh shook his head. "I mean 'the gaping wound of my mother'? Jeez. I should have bought you a book on insults or something for Christmas."
Jo had been eating supper and admiring the festive decor, although her admiration was tempered with a bit of homesickness for Marmie and the girls. She'd been on her way out of the hall, intending to go find someplace where she could be homesick without anyone being the wiser when she noticed Damien.
She listened to his monologue, noted Carrie's and Ian's responses, then a couple of gears snapped together in her head.
She turned a shade pale, then abruptly swung around toward the door, muttering, "Well, I suppose that means he didn't like his Christmas present, then."
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She arrived just in time to hear Thorn's impassioned speech. Her blood boiled, and before she could stop it one of the glass spheres on the tree exploded into splinters.
"I don't think so, Tempter," she spat. "Josh won't make war against you. Doesn't mean his believers won't. Don't think I won't."
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"You ain't seen the half of what I can do, if I really have to."
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He stood and listened to the last bit of the man's exchange with the girl, under the guise of staring at the tree, then took a deep breath and stepped forward.
"Hi, guys! Always nice to see a happy couple under the mistletoe!" He pointed up, to the bough hanging above their heads.
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"What fantastic powers of observation you posses," he said, shooting the man a look that would melt lead. "Perhaps you could employ them elsewhere."
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"Awww. C'mon, pal, it's a public hall. And it's Christmas! You gotta kiss under the mistletoe!" He leaned forward and whispered to both of them, "You'll get a lump of coal in your stockings if you don't."
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If "Nazarene" is who I think it is, you may not have as far to go as you think. Most people these days are in Christmas for the food and the presents.
Oh, and you might want to get out of the habit of soliloquizing - there's always someone listening in around here. *Skip points at himself.* Case in point.
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He looked Skip over. "More proof that people here need better things to do with their time," he said. "Either they need to find something, or I'm sure something will be found for them."
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People here haven't got anything better to do with their time. Socialization's all that ever happens around here. And if you manage to have a monologue, then you need to make a few friends or at least some quality enemies here. Or possibly one of those one-sided relationships where you think you're enemies and they think you're friends, or vice-versa. This is speaking as a professional extrovert, you understand.
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"Quality enemies, I have. Friends are not something I'm concerned with."
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However, there was a significant damper on his mood, in the form of one antichrist, monologuing about evil.
Josh sighed. "Okay, dude- you have some serious unresolved anger issues. Need to talk?"
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"And you think this is a sparkling and clever comeback?" Damien asked.
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She listened to his monologue, noted Carrie's and Ian's responses, then a couple of gears snapped together in her head.
She turned a shade pale, then abruptly swung around toward the door, muttering, "Well, I suppose that means he didn't like his Christmas present, then."
((No response necessary unless someone wants to.))
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