#then Hallor got a hold of him

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

I feel like the Cousins from Other Dimensions would have a weird time with Christmas if they celebrate at all. Harry celebrates in the sense Revin(his aunt who possesses her own skull after her death) harasses her sibling into providing some sort of culture for him so Hallor puts up a tree after asking some people and gives gifts it’s just there is little tradition or belief? Hallor is bound to Lolth as much as they hate the goddess and Revin is dead but possessing a skull. It’s very much a holiday for the family meant to show they love each other.

Izuku celebrates to, sort of. Izuku stopped actually believing in a higher power after Inko died, or at least stopped believing any where kind. Being under Lord Malivor is too heavy for faith like that. Eri however is kind, gentle and Izuku wants to give her whatever she wants. Ashan, who lost everything and rebuilt herself, helps. They had a festival around that time to celebrate the mushroom harvest (she lived underground. Seasons are weird okay?) so there are hints of that in the celebrations. Gifts of handmade items and a big meal that is served to them and then taken to the homeless shelter to continue.

Tsuna isn’t Christian or any sort of Christ based faith. He was Shinto before and still believes now. Fairbraid doesn’t celebrate anything, not really. She doesn’t believe in giving any spirit power over you which she firmly thinks doing something like celebrating their birth or death would do. They focus more on New Years, and just have a chicken dinner for Christmas. They’ll send gifts to the cousins but both don’t care enough about it otherwise.

Naruto was born in a world without Christmas and who had a Shinto faith. He believes so much in it, given Briar came after a prayer. Briar follows Ilmater and respects his holidays. The two didn’t even know of the day until the whole cousins thing. Naruto likes trading gifts, and Briar enjoys the helping aspect. She volunteers a lot in Izuku’s dimension at soup kitchens.

[unicyclehippo]

Blossom

ever since orym was very young, lanh hadn’t changed very much. he’d always been quiet and quick and had his head in the cloud or something so close to it that it caused his mum a world of worry wondering whether today would be the day he fell out of some tree or another. not that lanh would allow that.

lanh mostly took the form of a monkey, and it was the most common thing of all to see orym and his dæmon swinging up into the low branches and cliffs and into creeks. he liked to explore and to understand and to hold the things he found—rocks and twigs and bugs and all—and four hands were better than two for that. orym was curious and kind and he was never cranky with lanh except for a few afternoons when he told him, softly, that he was a little jealous of his tail. and how easily he made friends.

‘people like you!’

‘they like me at the start,’ he told him, and concentrated very hard on making flowers bloom beneath his fingers. a big pink one unfurled and orym beamed, even though two of the petals were too small and the pink wasn’t quite natural, because it was the biggest one he’d managed to make and the first pink one. he took it carefully from the stem to tuck into lanh’s fur. ‘i think people don’t like me when they get to know me. i don’t have much to say. hallor says i’m weird.’

‘so what! what do they know? they’re weird. they smell like clay. their dæmon’s a hamster.’

orym hid his grin behind his hand. lanh didn’t. he bared his big teeth down at the tops of the huts; he liked to be big and loud, liked nothing better than puffing out his chest and hollering, hearing the mountains echo. he liked it when orym followed suit and got big and loud too.

‘hamsters are nice.’

‘they’re dull.’ lanh stripped some bark from the branch above him, winding it into a loose bracelet. orym held his wrist out to be sized and lanh wrapped it around it twice. ‘you’re my favourite thing in the whole world,’ lanh told him. ‘if you want me to bite the hamster, i will.’

orym laughed. ‘you wouldn’t.’

‘i would for you.’

that was probably true. leaning back into the cradle of tangled branches, orym considered what he would do if anyone were mean to lanh. he’d bite hallor, clay-smell or not.

their hideaway tree was at the top of a small hill that only the best climbers bothered with; there were too many rocks and too much sunlight for mushroomers, so the fact that this tree had such a clear view of the village was, in orym’s mind at least, their little secret. they could watch people come and go and hardly anyone ever looked up.

will and blossom did.

orym caught the glimmer of dark hair. will had taken to wearing beads and ornaments tangled in it recently; orym thought it made him look lovely, like the night sky had loaned him a little of her splendour, stars in the dark. he watched will swing ever so gracefully out from his home and stop in the middle of the street, shading his face—orym admired the sharp bend of his elbow, his pointed chin.

‘you’re blushing,’ lanh pointed out. he waved down to will and blossom when orym did. ‘is there someone you hope doesn’t think you’re weird?’

orym nudged lanh with a bare foot. ‘stop it. and don’t get into a fight with blossom again when - if he comes up here.’

‘if he does. sure.’ lanh swung up onto a higher branch. ‘you know that boy is smitten with you.’

orym flushed a sunny pink and all around, the tree flushed with him. he was still trying to pick all the dozens of pink flowers, hide them, when will clambered over the rise.

will’s eagle dæmon, blossom, flew ahead of him by a few dozen feet. her golden eyes were piercing, calculating. they missed nothing—not the flowers, nor his matching blush, nor lanh figuring out if he could swing from his tail to the next tree.

‘good afternoon, miss blossom,’ orym greeted her politely. if lanh was orym’s herald, blossom was will’s protector, keen-eyed and sharp of beak.

she regarded him coolly, as ever, before settling in the branches above them. a regal nod her only reply.

‘orym! you’ll never guess - ugh damn tree - you’ll never guess what dad told me—we’re in! we got in! he’ll train us!’

‘what? when?’

will caught him around the waist when he tried to push past. ‘hold onto your kite, orym, let me finish!’ he laughed. ‘next season, he’ll start our lessons.’

‘next season! but - but that’s forever away!’

‘it’s not so long. only six weeks.’

‘like i said—forever.’

will laughed again. orym relaxed into the half-hold half-hug, grinning; there was nothing in the world like will’s laugh, being the cause for it.

‘you know, everyone thinks you’re so serious but i think I’ve figured you out,’ will told him, laughter fading from his voice but not his brilliant eyes. he looked very smug as he said, ‘you’re kind of an idiot.’

orym grinned. ‘finally catching on? bird brain.’

‘hey!’

//

they had their first kiss there, beneath an old and beloved tree pouring with vibrant blossoms. they were wed there, too, some years later, much to the irritation of everyone who had to climb the difficult slope. and it was to the same tree that orym vanished time and again in the months after his husband’s death.

with a rustle of feathers, lanh perched on the branch above him. orym caught the movement out of the corner of his eye but didn’t turn to look; he would have to, sometime. he ought to know what lanh looked like now, what his soul looked like. orym steadied himself and, body aching, heart aching, turned to look. gone was his lithe, playful, golden monkey. in its place—not an eagle, he was - relieved? - to see a falcon. yes. that made sense. small, fast, deadly. lanh’s feathered talons curled around the branch, leaving long pale scars behind. golden eyes scanned the valley below them.

‘is it wise,’ he asked orym, speaking silently, ‘to leave? she could be targeted again.’

‘she has guards. more than before. ones that didn’t fail her.’

lanh glanced sharply at orym but didn’t disagree. he shuffled on his perch then, carefully, as though afraid orym might push him away, began to preen him. sharp beak sifting through orym’s hair. it was so gentle, and the touch of his soul so soothly, that orym could not keep from crying. he shot up to his feet and pulled lanh close.

‘i thought—i’m sorry—i shouldn’t have shut you out. you loved them too. i know that.’

lanh said nothing for some time, only returned orym’s embrace as best he could—a tight claw locked around his wrist, just shy of painful. ‘you didn’t want to feel it. i understand. how could i not?’ he said, and pulled back so orym could take in for the first time his powerful, sleek build, the gloss of his feathers, the wickedness of his beak. he had changed, profoundly, after losing will and blossom. they both had.

orym petted the feathers of his head and his wings, admiring, grieving. never again would lanh hold his hand, or holler down the mountainside, or climb a cliff face with him. never again would will kiss him, or argue with him, or spar on a lazy summer morning. never again would blossom land her enormous heavy frame upon orym’s shoulder and let her-will-orym’s souls tangle together, trust and love and home so entwined as to be one. until - until. and now seperate again, now split. what had been more painful, orym tried to recall—losing will, or losing the part of him that had been lanh?

‘we are still here,’ lanh told him. ‘is that enough?’

‘we have a duty and a direction too. enough for now.’