2021-12-25 - A Not So Modest Proposal

If one lives in Oak they HAVE been invited to Granny Leigh's house for Christmas and she WILL lay on the guilt if the neighbors passing by don't stop in for some coco at very LEAST. Her old fashioned place has been done up for the season, complete with cute little elf on the shelf.

Ravn Abildgaard -- not a man who needs more guilt in his life. Also not really a social butterfly by nature, but also not brave enough to warrant geriatric disappointment. The Dane turns up at a quiet time, somewhat nonchalantly hoping to be able to just shake hands, drink a cup of cocoa and abscond. He's naive like that, sometimes. He's probably also not the person who did 3, Oak Avenue's Christmas decorations -- on the whole, if it's sparkly and colourful and adorable, assume Aidan Kinney did it.

There's lots of reasons for a person not to have other plans for the day: a disinclination to go home is one reason, lack of transport is another, and-- well, in the end it doesn't really matter, does it? It's Christmas, there are reasons why Una doesn't have other places to go, and so here she is, maybe only a little lurky-around-the-edges. The cookies she brought have been deposited on a convenient surface, and now she has cocoa (and, ok, a ridiculously ugly christmas sweater that she's probably wearing ironically... probably). "No, no: I'm new to town. Just moved here. From Seattle." Small-talk with strangers-who-are-now-neighbours at parties is the worst, guys.

Gail thinks it is the BEST. She's an older social butterfly who is fluttering through the crowd just happy to be surrounded by people on Christmas day since she isn't with her own children. "Oh but that's lovely my dear," replied to Una, "Gray Harbor is a lovely town despite it's reputation. I raised two beautiful children here."

Gail isn't a part of the warn-off-the-newbies crew. 73 years of Gray Harbor will do that to a body.

"Oh, and you've met RAvn, yes?" Come over to the conversation dearest Ravn, Gail is roping you in.

Was the elf always sitting on the back of the sofa?

"We've spoken a couple of times," Ravn agrees, grateful to be drawn into conversation with someone who is neither someone's Aunt Petunia, on a mission to fix every bachelor with every single lady, nor Aunt Petunia's sticky children, on a mission to eat everything. "Una and her friend are neighbours of Kinney's and mine -- they're in number five." He smiles, and there is genuine warmth in that smile; for all his reservations, Ravn is not an unfriendly person, it's just that Christmas tends to be way too much.

He's probably also the only man in Gray Harbor who would not recognise the term 'elf on the shelf' because duh, those things are not elves, come on, what is wrong with you English speaking people.

The way Una lifts her chin, the way she considers Gail; there's a spark of interest there, though it's not immediately obvious what it relates to-- not when she's otherwise so blandly cheerful. If it's a thought to be followed, however, it's not one to be immediately so: she turns that smile from Gail to Ravn, lifting her mug in easy salute to him.

"Merry Christmas, Ravn. Yes - it's a lovely town. Friendly. It's lovely to see how much decorating everyone's done, down the street. And in here, too." She gestures with one hand, encompassing the room, and the elf, too, which has surely always been sitting right there. "I guess santa is still keeping tabs on us."

"Lovely! I do so love meeting the neighbors. IT has fallen out of tradition - the idea of a village raising children." Gail beams. Her cheeks are that fresh rosy color with just the right wrinkles. "Oh the elf," Gail laughs. "I was never much of a believer in the tradition, but I've spent the last five years with my grandchildren and this is the youngest's first Christmas without me there. He was worried about 'grandma' being alone without anyone there to look after me. His mother came upon the idea of sending an elf to come and give reports to their elf about how I'm doing..."

Hum, she looks around the room thoughtfully. Where did the elf go this time?

Ah, there it is. On the tree.

Anywhere else, Ravn would worry now. Gray Harbor, though -- just doing Gray Harbor things. "Looks like someone's having fun moving your elf around," he murmurs with a smile because the idea that some kid or prankster with the ability to move things doing exactly that? It's just so right for this town.

Hell, he might have done it himself. Why didn't he think of it? Perfect prank.

"Una has abilities as well," he mentions in passing, just loud enough for Gail and not everyone else to hear. "Another new member of our little community of gifted children for you to force feed cocoa and cookies to."

Una's little escaped breath isn't one of particular concern: more like a sigh crossed with an audible eyeroll, probably crossed with resignation. "Beats having to move it by hand," she decides. "Friend of mine has a kid and she says that's the worst part. Me, I tend to think the whole thing is creepy. But-- the kids love it, I guess?" The tilt of her head towards Gail is probably a reference to the aforementioned grandchildren.

Wryly, a decent chunk of her attention now focused on the elf: "Sometimes I feel like we all congregate on Oak, specifically. Do I have any neighbours that-- aren't?"

"Rude."

That voice is tiny and piping and can't possibly belong to any of the children that are gathering around the tree, legos spread out between them. (Pro tip to all grandparents, have Lincoln logs and legos on hand.) There isn't a child who doesn't love them, despite any protestations to the contrary.

"I am here doing a perfectly legitimate job. It's people like you that give us elves a bad name."

Gail - she just sighs. Of course something comes alive at her Christmas party. "Yes," that to Una's question, "Lorraine and her family," point, "The Jeffersons," point, and a few other names are rattled off. And sure to tits, most people in the room don't see the elf being weird. Gail raises her hand to pat Ravn, of course she can tell that Una is sparkly, but she pauses. Right. Ravn doesn't like being touched.

Maybe someone snuck a bit of something not cocoa into Ravn's cocoa mug because at least he turns to look at the elf with a very dry look. "You, sir, do not have a bad name. You have the wrong name. You are a nisse, or if you're Swedish, a tomte. Don't let these Americans confuse you with people who are essentially walking trees."

Well, it's a reaction. He's only lived here a year and some months but really, what's real and what isn't is highly negotiable in this community.

Really, Una is taking this surprisingly well. She lets out another squeak of a noise, but it is definitely surprise rather than, for instance, alarm, and once released she mostly just seems fascinated. Ravn gets in a response before she does, but her, "uh, sorry," comes hard on its heels, anyway. There's an almost-question-mark at the end of it, and that leaves it as a statement that could be directed as much as Ravn (and his superior knowledge of... elves) as the elf itself.

So she glances at Gail, too, brows raising slightly: so. Huh.

Elves are magic, and that's how it ends up on Una's shoulder, glaring at Ravn for his words. "You're in America Mr. Gentry, you leave our traditions alone." His little cloth arm leans upon Una's ear conversationally. "We''re not all that bad. The big man has come to rely on us. He has a real problem with technology you know? Once upon a time it was just kids playing at the park and such. Now there's texting, and sexting. The naughty list is HARD to keep track of." He taps his chest. "That's where we come in."

Gail, as a proper hostess, ponders a moment. "Excuse me, let me get you some cocoa." Muttering happens as she mutters something about thimbles.

Ravn manages to not laugh. Really, give him credit where credit is due -- at least he's not laughing out loud, even if that lopsided smile is rather quivering at the edges. "I assure you, I take the idea that supernatural creatures might read my texts very seriously, and I think you just cured any desire in me to try sexting, ever. I hope you get paid in ample amounts of snowman soup at least."

And of course he can't resist. "But I suppose now is a great time to have the one true argument that separates the continents. I trust you guys live in Greenland, right?"

Once you've accepted the presence of a talking elf-on-the-shelf, it's only a short hop, really, to having it perch on your shoulder; Una accepts it without a blink, and this time there's a quirk of a smile - and she, too, is holding back laughter. "So less 'making a list' and more 'cross-referencing a database', is that what you're getting at? No wonder."

She's still going to frown at Ravn's question. "It's been a few years since I studied geography, but unless I'm deeply mistaken, Santa is from the north pole, thank you very much. Isn't that right?" That last is to the elf. It's perfectly natural.

"Nah - south pole now. The poles flip occasionally and it's a pain in the ass to move every time." The elf says casually, patting Una's hair gently. "Nice hair girl."

Why yes - the elf IS hitting on Una. It's Christmas day now. He's off for 11 months.

"Myself and the others though? We have a few really nice communes in the tropics. Seasonal affective disorder is real. Santa makes sure we get plenty during the year to push through it. Honestly, he's a bang up guy."

Gail returns just now with a thimble filled with hot chocolate and offers it up to the elf.

"Oh, I always assumed that it'd be Greenland as we say in Denmark, or Finland as they say in the rest of Scandinavia," Ravn observes blithely. "Mostly because the North Pole is, well, north of Greenland and with the way the polar ice caps are melting these days . . ."

He sips his cocoa and wonders quietly if it contains any brandy he hasn't noticed; an aunt back home swore by cocoa milk and brandy and for all he knows, it's great -- he never did try it, largely in part to being enough of a brandy snob that he'd never drink one that it would not be a crime to dilute with dairy. "So does that mean that if I ever tire of Gray Harbor, I could sail the Vagabond to the tropics and join a secret nisse commune? Because frankly, the folklorist in me is very tempted now."

Talking to an elf seems to have taken precedence in Una's brain over the possibility that she's being hit on by an elf; or maybe it's just that one is more interesting than the other. Or maybe it's just not a big deal! It's harder for her to look at the elf, at this angle, but she smiles cheerfully enough. "Thanks? Oh - ok. South pole, sure. Penguins and shit."

Elf communes... she'll leave_them_ to Ravn. A whole horde of pervy elves might be too many.

"So much penguin shit." The elf agrees with Una, reaching out for the cocoa and then bouncing himself up to his feet. He walks across Una's shoulders, a little blip of transportation taking him around the back of her head. "It is everywhere. Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep the damn things out of the gifts?"

"Nah," said to Ravn, "but this is why I like Gray Harbor duty. Being manhandled by parents trying to be cute is just annoying as fuck. Here though, get the right people, like this lady here," eyebrow wiggle, "and I can stretch my gloves so to say. So... did you said you had roommates?"

Gail eyes the elf and wrinkles her nose at the elf with a sign. "Aren't you a bit too old for that love?"

Perfectly straight face over here. Ravn is shaking with laughter on the inside but he'll keep a stiffer upper lip than any Brit. "Oh, I imagine Gray Harbor is never quite boring as far as things and traditions go. Have you guys been mugged yet? Around here, I'd expect someone to lie in wait on a rooftop with a shotgun. Or to see some street patrol officer tuck a ticket into it for parking on private property."

It's entirely possible Una started the day with a drink or two, because she's remarkably blase-- amused, clearly, given the twitching of her smile, but otherwise perfectly easy (impressive, given how thus-far limited exposure to the weirdnesses of Gray Harbor). "'Stretch my gloves'," is what she repeats, though this time there is not so much as a hint of a question mark to it: she can do without.

"I thought Santa and his elves knew everything," is what she says, instead. "Actually-- that's a thought. Ravn's right: the sleigh and so on."

Elf waves a gloved hand at Ravn. "There's an agreement, y'know? Each to their own place." Is that true? Who knows. An elf has come alive and is hitting on the woman before him.

Granny gets a raised eyebrow. "I'm only three you know. Santa's got immortality, but we cycle pretty quickly. Magic y'know."

Which only makes his next question more creepy. "Nah - that's how that little shit up the street still gets gifts despite having broken his mom's vase. Things slip through the cracks and everything. So... your roommates? Are they down for some Christmas Magic?"

"Oh, I can ask him, I suppose," says Ravn, blissfully aware that the elf means Una's room mates and not his. "I can ask Kitty too, but she'll probaby think you're a snack on feet."

He can't resist exchanging a glance with Gail. It's the kind of amused look that says I am highly entertained by this, but at some point we should probably step in lest this little freak get creepy.

Una's mouth has opened, though whether her intended response was clever, funny or otherwise (it probably wasn't encouraging, let's be honest) will just have to go unknown: Ravn's got in first. "Must be a problem," is what she says, instead. "Pets. Small children. Though, if you're only three... isn't that child labour? Surely elves deserve a childhood too."

"Aw man. You are both no fun." The elf complains. It's gotten pretty clear his attentions aren't welcome and so he sighs deeply. The thimble, now sans cocoa, is handed off to Gail before the elf teleport again. This time down onto the ground. His hat is pulled back on as he walks towards the doorway to let himself out.

GAil lets out a deep sigh and shakes her head. "This has been a year for elves. Honestly - it was an improvement on the animated trees. Are you okay my dear?" Earnestly asked of Una.

Ravn just shakes his head as he looks after the elf. "I swear, now I've seen everything."

He looks back at Una, perhaps echoing Gail's sentiment a little -- and then can't resist another lopsided smile. "At least he had a lot of cheek? Now you can boast you've been attempted picked up for a threesome by a supernatural entity. It's something to put on your C.V. -- or write a young adult novel about."

Una, soft-hearted even if she isn't in to elf-sex, looks a little apologetic as the elf leaves-- but not enough to call him back. There are limits.

The answer to entreaties about her wellbeing, verbal or otherwise, is her abrupt giggling laughter. "That'll be one to tell Jules when she gets back. 'You missed out on a hot elf threesome!'" Beat. "... do young adult novels you're familiar with tend to involve threesomes?"

A quick glance at Gail has her blushing. Never mind the woman has grandchildren: she's a grandmother!

UNA. Gail's eyebrows fly open and then she shakes a finger at Una. "Love, you and my granddaughter would get along quite well." Gail goes on tip toes for a moment - and only a moment because ow, old woman stumble coming. "Where is Gabby?"

"Oh, I figure that if someone can write a bestseller about a girl who can't pick beween a vampire and a werewolf, then surely -- " Ravn waves a gloved hand dismissively, chuckling. "It's not a genre I follow more than I have to, but I do have to keep an eye on it as a folklorist. What's today's young adult urban fantasy is tomorrow's folk tales passed down to the kids. Though I pity the kids getting handed sparkly vampires."

He catches that look and then offers another lopsided smile. "I think they might get along perfectly, yes. Gabriella certainly likes her bawdy jokes as well." Yes, he just used that word. Must have picked it up in England sometime.

Watch Una. Watch Una squirm. Though she's likely interested in Ravn's comments on folklore (though let's be honest, sparkly vampires have been around since before she was old enough to sigh over them), sinking through the floor - metaphorically - seems to be more her speed right now. "Uh--" Still blushing. "Sorry."

"It is alright dear," Gail says kindly to Una. "Girls will be girls."

Granny Leigh strikes again - and yes, Una has been told she is welcome to call her that, and also the invitation to come over ANY TIME, is issued.

Then Gail must totter off as someone calls out that there's a problem in the kitchen. The party continues with people arriving and leaving as they wish. Gail's house is open and ready for as long as people want to come and spite their cocoa with something stronger and let their kids make a mess of Gail's house, and not their own.

Ravn looks after the older woman as she potters off, and then at his cocoa mug. Still smiling he confides, "I am actually not really big on the whole Christmas thing. But her enthusiasm is catching, isn't it? Some people just make you want whatever it is they like, just because you wanting it too will make them smile."

"It's kind of lovely, isn't it? Christmas was never much of a thing in my family, but--" But Una is smiling now, and that blush is beginning to fade. "Like a storybook grandmother. Complete with... talking elves, though I'm pretty sure the storybooks played them a bit differently." That smile is crooked, now, but not in a bad way.

"A little different, perhaps." Ravn can't help another soft chuckle. "My family has very rich Christmas traditions. A lot of people, a lot of festivity, communal church attendance, very formal. I am absolutely delighted to be on the other side of the planet because the one thing we don't have is a whole lot of feeling like a family. I don't particularly care to go to a lot of effort to impress people who might as well be strangers."

"That sounds-- I don't know, like a lot of work? The formality of it. We mostly just ate Chinese food, but that's because mom worked at the grocery, so by the time the store shut, she was exhausted. But there was still family feeling in that." Una transfers her mug from one hand to the other - it's gone cold, by now, but she doesn't seem particularly inclined to drink it anyway. "Found family is nice."

Ravn slips his -- also not empty -- cocoa mug to a table and pretends it was always there. "My parents are dead now so if anyone was to host the family shindig it'd be me. And I am absolutely not up for flying home to Denmark and going to all that effort. Not when I can cross the road and be made to feel welcome just like this. Gail just moved back here a month or so ago, and she's made herself the grandmother Gray Harbor didn't know it needed in very short time."

Una's plainly not well-versed at dealing with the dead parents admission (do you express sympathy? ignore? ask questions? so complicated), and goes with just a sympathetic wrinkle of the nose that could well encompass the whole of Ravn's statement. The latter bit is easier: "That's really lovely. Moved back... I wonder if that means she knew my grandmother at all. Or my mom. I'll have to ask her sometime."

"I get the impression that Gail knows pretty much anyone here who's still moving about, living or dead." Ravn nods -- and doesn't seem like he expected any further inquiry either; it's just the way things are. "I have half a mind to drag her to the cemetery one of these days, see how many older folks pop back up to say hello."

Is he joking? It's Gray Harbor; he's probably not joking.

"You should, though. Even if she didn't know your family directly, our community here is so small she's almost bound to have known of them by extension, at least if they had the shine." And maybe even without, because eighteen thousand is hardly a metropolis.

Talking elves or no talking elves; Gray Harbor or no Gray Harbor; Una seems to have chosen to interpret that as a joke: she laughs. "I bet they'd all have a lovely chat with her, too," she says. "Lots to catch up on."

"Mmm. I will. It's not like I'm on some... I don't know. Quest To Find My True Origins," the capitals are distinctly audible. "But it might be interesting. There's bound to be lots of people in town who do know my family."

The Dane can't help another smile; audible capitals, even. "I think most people who come here on a Quest are on a Quest To Get Away -- myself included. You could always try to set a new trend. Although you'll find yourself competing with the various returning Baxters, who seem to be on a quest to largely find each other. I don't suppose your mother's maiden name was Baxter, or something along those lines? It's a joke, and it's not. There are a lot of them. And the Baxters who left had their reasons to not tell their kids much."

Ravn shakes his head, and brushes a stray strand of copper brown out of his eyes. "Not everything has to have a big and deep meaning, really. Me, I just don't like large parties and crowds, so I was never keen on the big Christmas affair where the main idea seems to be impressing other branches of the family tree or get impressed by them but refuse to admit it."

Una's shrug is cheerfully game; "No idea. Could be! The amount I know about my family... well, it could probably fill the thimble that elf was drinking from." Which is still not weird. (No, it's still very weird, but for the moment it's a thing that happened, and is perfectly fine.)

"That seems fair and reasonable. It all sounds pretty fake. Life's... well, there's more to it than things like that, I think. I like to think, anyway."

She glances down at her mug and, this time, makes a face at it. "I think I'm going to head. I've made my appearance, felt momentarily christmas-y, and now it's time to get drunk."

Ravn laughs and nods. "I think I will follow the same pattern. I have a bottle of whiskey and a good book waiting for me. My kind of Christmas day, not a single student calling, and no obligations."

He glances around quickly as if saying such a thing might summon a wrathful Granny Gail bearing fresh mugs of cocoa and snickerdoodles; fortunately (or not), one such fails to appear. "Let's just sneak off. If anyone asks, we were definitely here for at least another hour. I'll see you around, no doubt."