lonely christmas eve

[highf]

So here's what you missed on Glee:

Tabula Rasa is currently blanketed in a layer of snow, which apparently happens every year even though it's a tropical island, although this year it seems that the island's transported itself to some weird alternate Victorian universe running on steam. Kurt's adjusted fairly well - ( "I've helped lace a couple of

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[makemaps]

My singing experience is kind of limited to that day back in 3 North (and, honestly, I've got no idea what I actually sounded like, because of everything that was going on in my head) but even I can tell that he's pretty good. Since the other day, with Bella, I've had this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, but it hasn't got worse, not yet. So I've been drawing. When Kurt finishes, I give him a round of applause, pencil discarded in my lap.

[highf]

It isn't the first time I've been caught by an audience I didn't even know I had. That time ended in applause, too, and for half a second- just half a second- I expect to find my dad standing there again. It isn't, of course. I should have known that. I should have known that, and I should be fine with it, shouldn't I? It's not like most of the people here have their parents around, or their best friends, or the people who matter most in their lives. I know that compared to everyone else, I've got plenty of people here, Puck and Santana and Brittany, and it should be... enough. Sometimes, it is.

But for Christmas, and no matter how little Christmas should matter, it's just not. It's not the same. Yet, you know, of anyone who could have spotted me in this incredibly self-indulgent and embarrassing moment, Craig's not a bad option.

So I offer a slightly belated smile and a bow. "I didn't see you," I laugh, rubbing at the back of my neck after. "Shows me that I should pay a little more attention to my surroundings."

[makemaps]

"I was kind of fading into the background," I say, gesturing at my sketchpad across my knees. "You're really good, you know. You're going to be awesome in Rocky Horror."

I'm helping out with the set design and props. It's more arty then I've ever let myself been, but I'm excited. Even if it does make me feel kind of sick.

[highf]

"It's a useful talent to have in a place like this," I point out, tilting my head from one side to the other. "Not that I think very much gets past the island itself, but honestly, with everything that happens here, whether started by magic or just among its people, sometimes I think that it's the people who know how to blend in who end up being the most fortunate. And of your number, I am certainly not." I duck my head, so as to make it clear that yes, to a degree, I do feel a bit bashful at the fact that I can't hide myself for the life of me. I've got a loud personality. On good days, I embrace it. And on the bad... on the bad, I suppose I lament the fact that loud doesn't always get the message across.

With a soft sigh, I shrug my shoulder. "I can only hope that Rocky Horror goes well. It's... definitely not the type of material I'm most accustomed to. And Frank-N-Furter's being played by someone I'm supposed to take sides against," I add, with a conspiratorial raise of my brow. Not that Grace Violet would ever try to pit me

[turnedtoproust]

"Darling!" Scripps announces jovially when he comes across Kurt -- wearing slightly more decent clothes than the last time they came together. He raises a brow at the change in melody and eases closer with a concerned look on his face. "Well, now, that's no good. What's gone wrong that you're lonely this Christmas?" he asks, catching the hint of the tune.

[highf]

Having Scripps come into his general vicinity feels natural to Kurt these days after all of the time that they've spent together for the radio- and more than that, just as friends. And if there's anything that Kurt feels grateful for in that moment, it's the fact that he knows he can burst into song and Scripps won't judge him any the more for it. Sometimes, music is just something that digs under Kurt's skin, easier to get out than angered or harried words, easier than whining endlessly and talking someone's ear off in turn. If people can get away with playing piano in the background, singing should be no different.

Similarly, having always been honest to one another, Kurt doesn't feel too bad when the smile that he offers is strained, trying its best to remain optimistic even when it just feels utterly impossible to.

"Well, for one, it's the first Christmas I'm spending away from my dad," he replies with a lopsided shrug. "Which feels pretty significant to me, even if the holiday itself isn't."

[turnedtoproust]

Scripps, who has never had a close and personal relationship to his parents, doesn't really understand distance as something terrible. Then, his Christmas traditions mainly involve the church and it doesn't look as though he'll be able to indulge in his traditional ceremony here. "Do you have any traditions we could mimic? I'm hardly a good father-substitute, but I can do my best."

[highf]

There's a slight huff of air that escapes Kurt's lips. Surprised, perhaps, and touched in spite of how unfeasible it is to expect anyone to come even close to the amount and type of care that his father offered. Christmas was always safe with his dad around, a reminder of how much they'd seen together, just the two of them, even with his mother long since laid to rest. Now, it feels like he's been abandoned, as dramatic as that might sound to anyone else's ears. As much, in fact, as it sounds to Kurt's own. He knows that this isn't his father's fault by any stretch of the imagination, and yet loneliness permeates in a way that has Kurt struggling just to put the right foot forward at all.

"I don't know about traditions. Our non-holiday traditions are generally a little stronger. I mean- we cook Christmas dinner together, I guess. Or he watches and tries to tell the difference between oregano and paprika while I putz around the kitchen," he replies helplessly.

[straightupbitch]

Living with Kurt and Puck has been surprisingly peaceful for Santana thus far, and although that is due in no small part to Brittany's constant presence, there is no denying that the sole roommate that she hasn't fooled around with has begun to grow on her. He does have good taste, no less eccentric than her own, if slightly more conservative, and he's neat as well. Santana is even sure that she spotted him picking up after Puck once or twice, which is appreciated not just because of the mess, but because she sure as heck wouldn't have volunteered for the job

[highf]

It's possible to learn a lot from living with a person, Kurt's found. The statement is one that just about everyone makes, especially with college impending and on the horizon, plenty of discussions about the careful process one should take in considering who to room with- but even if the glee club has been pushed together by the sheer fact of being stranded on an island where no one else was familiar, the impact isn't lessened at all. He's still learned, by living with Santana, that her fashion tastes largely align with his own. (In spite of the initial request for animal prints, it turns out that Santana's pretty good about applying it judiciously.) Learned that she genuinely likes the holidays, when they're not being shoved down her throat. That she's remarkably respectful when they all sit down for dinner, that even living in the same room as Brittany doesn't pull any acidity from her tongue

[straightupbitch]

Continued here.

[user_wasp]

There was a stream of irritated sounding Swedish from the doorway.

Lisbeth Salander mostly enjoyed the chance to practice with different costumes. For the most part, she'd been wearing men's clothes in the new wintry clime-- or more accurately, the clothes of a young boy.

But once she'd learned how to wear the dresses, she didn't mind them so much. There was ample room for pockets, and so if her pretty skirt also had a half-charged taser in it, that was all the better.

She was swearing, however, because the lace at the bottom of her skirt had become caught in the little buttons on her boots, and while her fingers were small and quick, they didn't know how to do this very well.

[highf]

Pausing shortly after his song and bringing his arms neatly in front of his chest to cross, Kurt tilted his head at the foreign words muttered and streaming into the room, vaguely wondering to himself when he'd grown so accustomed to Lisbeth's presence. While she wasn't quite the same type of friend that the members of the glee club were, not sharing very many interests at all with Kurt, there was still something comforting about having her around. Predictable and steady alike. And so he sighed a little sigh as the jukebox changed its track to Frank Sinatra, and instead of joining in, made his way over to the young woman to see if he could help with her wardrobe malfunction.

"I like the way the skirt looks on you," he remarked as he knelt by her side, carefully disentangling the buttons.

[user_wasp]

"Why thank ya, guv'nah," Lisbeth said, snapping off a fairly perfect British accent. She stood up once disentangled, making sure to pull Kurt up to his feet as well. "The people here are very easy to imitate if you listen," she added as an explanation for her outburst.

She realized only a moment too late that there weren't many alternate explanations for her talent in mimicry.

[highf]

Pausing as his hand closed around Lisbeth's own, Kurt's eyes narrowed in slight- but noticeably amused- disbelief. To have her play along with a theme at all made him grin as he got to his feet. Perhaps he hadn't yet convinced her of just how important music was in everyone's life (or should have been), but they'd gotten to a point where they were comfortable with one another. Every joke further convinced him of their friendship, and Kurt wasn't the type of person who tended to turn those down.

"Well, looks like you've got a talent that you've been hiding from me," he concluded, crossing his arms to get a better look at her. "If you're generally as good at imitating people as you were just now, I could see you getting into theater. You wear the dress well, too, malfunction aside."

[quite_a_delight]

It felt like they knew each other. Kurt was immediately recognizable, his face and even his voice, after sitting through a handful of the Rocky Horror auditions, and it didn't occur to Marshall that they hadn't formally met until he realized he'd been standing in the room, listening to the boy sing for the last few minutes.

"Um, hi," he said a little awkwardly, when the music began to wind to a stop, "Sorry, I was just..." Staring, a little, maybe. That kind of talent demanded an audience.

[highf]

One thing could be said for certain: there was absolutely no way that Kurt would have mistaken the young man in front of him- Marshall, if his memory served- with Craig Gilner. Their styles were different, for one. The way they spoke, not quite the same. But if there was anything that Kurt could center on as being the biggest divide between the two boys with wide eyes and knit brows, it was the fact that Craig Gilner seemed to be the type of soul lost in dreams, in distant places beyond the average man's imagination, accessible only in the stroke of a pen, while Marshall Gregson seemed to be someone too mired in reality, seeking to view it from each side. (It was entirely possible, of course, that Kurt was seeing things where they didn't exist at all, but he liked to think that he was somewhat perceptive when it came to things like this, and not merely fueled by the romantic bend of his mind

[quite_a_delight]

"Not bummed. Curious, maybe," Marshall admitted, reaching out to shake Kurt's hand. "Marshall Gregson. I take it you're not in the Christmas spirit," he added with a wry tilt of his lips.

He understood the feeling. This wasn't his first Christmas on the island, but it hadn't gotten any easier, the second time around.

[highf]

"Looks like memory serves," Kurt grinned, before he could help himself. "I thought I heard your name floating around here and there, but it always seems a bit strange to ask someone else for a person's name, isn't it? No reason to sneak around to pawn introductions off of other people."

The smile faded soon after, leaving behind only the slightest quirk in his lip. What it intended to do, Kurt wasn't quite sure. Perhaps he was just trying to fight the impulse to lose all spunk and energy altogether, to find something around which to center his energy and keep his thoughts from straying too far. Or perhaps he just wanted to leave a better impression. Neither thought seemed ideal.

"But no," he sighed. "Not very much in the Christmas spirit this year, I'm afraid. Pathetic though it may seem, I... foresee myself being somewhat of a wreck without my dad here. That's all."