[entranceway] Christmas Gifts 2014

[nascensibility]

Philip LaFresque: A box of calissons, a bottle of something strong, and a book with a note stuck to it that reads: I believe you threw this out a window once. Thought I'd make sure you got a copy back. :) -Evie

Will Graham: A bamboo fly-fishing rod, circa 1935, and a handwritten note that reads Why don't you take me fishing? -Evie

Hannibal Lecter: A bottle of Réserve Calvados and a note: Dinner some time?

Sam Winchester: A new book and an invitation to tea.

Steve Rogers: An Artie Shaw album and a leather-bound sketchbook with a short note inside: A friend of yours told me that you draw. I'd love to see some of your work. -Evie

John Blake: A note that reads: I miss our talks, maybe we could open this eventually? and a bottle of wine.

Bela Talbot: Tea and rum and a formal invitation for an afternoon tipple or two (or three...).

Cecil Palmer: A framed papyrus scroll of the weighing of hearts in the Egyptian Underworld.

Emma Swan: A knife and a message: I know it's more decorative than what you're used to, but I thought we could practise sparring. -Evie

Dean Winchester: A record with a single song on it, a bottle of Glenlivet Reserve and a handwritten note that says We'll always have the bar. -E

Comments

[glumshoe]

[ Knockknockknock.

Evelyn didn't expect to get away with this mysterious, handwritten note bit, did she? No, no she wouldn't.

Whatever cute trap she's going to spring, Will is there to spring it with her present sitting in an innocuous, plainly wrapped box. One, because Will can claim no talent in decoration or gift picking or wrapping, two because Will's simple tastes don't lend themselves to the oft baroque-level of ostentatiousness some go to. Keep it simple, clean, one layer of wrapping paper.

(Meanwhile Will's personal wrapping paper is thicker than it's ever been, with the exception of a few key physical pieces left in his room after so hasty a vacating of the premises as there's been reason to have: long jacket and elegant scarf left on the coat hook, grabbing his old green jacket out of pure habit.)

Will waits until the door is answered instead of using his key, one eyebrow climbing toward his perfectly combed hair. ]

Package for one Evelyn O'Connell, postage cost is one kiss.

[nascensibility]

[If Will is under the impression that Evelyn is setting a clever snare with a hook and line, he's terribly mistaken. Her intentions could not be further from tricks and traps, providing nothing more than a gentle nudge to help chip away some of the shell he's been wearing since his return to Wonderland. She was, in fact, not anticipating much holiday company at all given how things have been falling apart around their ears, and was therefore planning on venturing out to the stables in appropriate attire to check on the horses.

Last year she had the time to organise a party, and this year she's sending off gifts to people she hopes are still in residence. Will's arrival takes her completely by surprise, leaning up against the jamb with a fond smile at his festive declaration.]

That's not a very steep price,

[she notes, reaching up to loosen the ascot she's wearing, knowing full well that she's not making it down to visit the local ungulates. She tucks the kerchief into a pocket and pops the top button on her blouse, hands on her hips.]

There isn't a catch, is there?

[glumshoe]

[ Will is decidedly not of the opinion that Evelyn is remotely capable of several layers of deception. She's very good at wielding coquettishness when she wants something but times like those are not only rare but incredibly obvious when they're happening. Let's just say Will doesn't fear much for her husband's clearheadedness.

Much.

Which is to say that several weeks of being locked back in a cell, then returning to Wonderland with their several months-old relationship hung like a dusty banner in his memory, Will is... missing that relationship in a way that her husband wouldn't have to worry about. Unless Evie did indeed have the cause to put him out on the couch. The point is Evie is inviting all these sorts of hasty evaluations and a lot else besides, Will's understated grin widening fractionally as her one woman pageant carries on. ]

I haven't had the chance to put your gift to good use.

How's Thursday?

[ And do you plan on paying? ]

[nascensibility]

[God, it's so- it's so stupid.

An absolutely inane use of wordplay serves as enough to encourage her (stifling a grin is nigh impossible) that the Will she loves is in there somewhere, under the gleaming, well-manicured chitin. The exoskeleton is fractured in places, not so much that she wants to risk digging too deeply at first and hitting a nerve, but enough that she is of the mind to soften that hard earth first before breaking out less gentle hardware.]

I can pencil you in.

[Payment forthcoming.]

I almost didn't think you'd take the bait.

[The green jacket - worn and rumpled and more familiar to her - serves as the perfect grip for an insistent hand, fingers curling around the collar to pull him down just enough to meet her while she stands on tip-toe.]

I do not apologize for the stream of puns

[glumshoe]

[ Evelyn shouldn't discount herself as one of the large, significant touchstones that line a path back to his core. Will certainly isn't ashamed to admit it. Be alarmed that she took on a certain indispensable quality in a matter of months, that's something he can credibly do since he hasn't yet thought on it for sufficient length to allow full, unadulterated panic to set in. It's something he should be terrified of, knowing what last took root when his guard was down, what he's still trying to pull out with both hands fixed around Hannibal's throat.

Will's free hand grazes the side of her neck on the way to fitting against her jaw, stooped to meet her a quarter of the way. Far be it for him to interrupt her demonstrations against her vertical limits. ]

God knows why you want my help with fishing,

[ Will replies, soon taking her hand back (positively gripping) for the journey into her rooms; she's still liable to get some quartering done on a stallion. ]

I'm going to need your willingness to sign away your four A.M. in writing.

NEVER APOLOGIZE FOR PUNS

[nascensibility]

[Tugging him in lightly as he shuts the door behind him Evelyn is, primarily, interested in the fact that he chose now to come and visit, wondering if there was any other impetus outside her gift and note. The way things have been - and the state in which Will was upon his return to Wonderland - she wasn't entirely sure how easy it would be to pick things up where they left off, or if they would be starting from a different spot. Much feels the same and a greater amount still feels changed, but the rapport they have slipped back into helps warm the closeness that once was.]

You don't trust me to honour my note?

[She glances coyly over one shoulder, leading him to the sitting room and depositing herself on the sofa. Also oddly unwilling to take back her hand, Evelyn uses the free one to pick apart the buttons of her riding coat, now rendered useless in light of her visitor. The horses can wait.]

I'll draw up a contract if you're so concerned.

[Awful as the prospect of waking up before the sun is, she knows it will be considerably more bearable with Will and some of his horrid black coffee.]

So what's this parcel you've got that's worth a single kiss, hm?

[glumshoe]

I trust you to accomplish anything you set yourself before.

[ She'd finish a cup of his "horrid" black coffee out of unadulterated, adorable stubbornness, that he's also confident of.

Why he'd come to visit now is a finer question. On the surface, it would be rude, but not impossible to understand if he wanted to stay in and fantasize about the fishing he'd do with his gift in next handful of hours, wee steps into the morning, but neither did he want Evelyn to think he was ungrateful in sending an impersonal text thank you.

Beneath that, there was a mind for it and an inexplicable security in coming to see Evelyn since his return, after their first meeting was - settling. It gentled him in the midst of everyone's battle and his internal one; Will isn't confused about himself anymore, but at the time he did wonder at the casualties that may have surfaced in him, and whether the him that has shaped itself around Evelyn would have been found among them. And because it wasn't, well...

It's becoming harder to fabricate excuses to others, but to himself too, walking as Dante did into a forest dark, the straightforward pathway lost. Evie might not like to be his Beatrice, but he doesn't have to voice the casting. He holds onto her hand with a radiating calm, the spark of mischief not leaving him. ]

Actually, the postage is worth one kiss. The gift is worth a few more.

[ Truthfully, it was a small memory, a dim one that he'll forget even the shape of in time, when Evelyn's getting her use out of the exact and modernized model he wanted to get her. Not quite the color, but two out of three criteria isn't bad. He offers it up, ready with an explanation and demonstration for the inevitable questioning looks. ]

[nascensibility]

Mhm.

[Evelyn wouldn't have faulted him for staying in and waiting until first light to try out the new equipment, and frankly she half-expected to spend Christmas getting a ride in before peeling off the jodhpurs, putting on a robe, and drinking an inordinate amount of eggnog whilst reading a book. (She might still get to partake in at least one of those activities, but she's trying to be less presumptuous these days. Call it an early New Year's Resolution.)

Hidden fees aside, she shoots him a funny look before releasing his hand to accept the package, unfailingly prim about unwrapping the paper before lifting the lid and pulling out a sky-blue...something...with all the delicacy of an archaeologist handling a new artefact.

The top is rounded, the corners smooth and a small, narrow opening marks one end, hair-thin lines bisecting the foreign object. Knowing perfectly well that Will would be more than happy to take it from her and demonstrate its purpose, Evelyn doesn't give him the opportunity. Brow furrowed and lips pursed, interested in the challenge of prying open another box - one that won't bring back any undead priests, mind - Evelyn fiddles with a small projection and the top snaps open with a muted click.]

Oh!

[Delighted by this development she taps at the glass squares, one reflective and the others of varying size, before glancing up at him again.]

What are the little lenses for? Some kind of stereoscope?

[glumshoe]

[ Expect only so far unless you speak up, missus. There's plenty of time before Christmas is over and daydreams of one horse open sleighs gallop off into the woods. It just so happens that she didn't have to and good things did come to those who wait, depending on how well the gift-giving part of the evening progresses...

A sly grin widens incrementally as her thorough and impressively quick exploration of the object progresses, hands resting in his lap and there to stay unless prompted. There is the mild worry that she'll pry it open with Pandoran enthusiasm and break the soft release clip, but when that doesn't happen and Evelyn is still mildly flushed with the exuberance of discovery, Will smothering a chuckle before he says, ]

Sort of. Actually on the back side there you'll see a viewfinder -

[ he points at the side ]

and a trigger there.

[ Hadeel has come around to idly peruse the hubbub and would make an excellent subject if Will had the gift in his hands. As it is, Will indicates that she should put the viewfinder up to her eye and ]

Test it out.

1/2

[nascensibility]

[Unlike her husband, who has developed a healthy suspicion of foreign objects that he cannot explain, Evelyn pokes and prods and rummages for the things she probably shouldn't be touching anyway. Insatiable curiosity is both blessing and curse, as it can instill the most ordinary object with wonder and unearth the unconventional and/or cursed.

Confident that this particular piece of equipment is not the latter, Evelyn's attention to detail jots down the important parts of Will's piecemeal explanation. It is with unadulterated delight that, lifting it up, she realises it's a camera.]

Of all my hobbies, I thought that this was the one you'd want to dissuade-

[nascensibility]

[The smile that was so smug prior to pressing the camera's trigger falls; Evelyn pulls back to stare at it as it makes a whirring sound and a flat, square-ish piece of something is ejected from the slot in the front into her lap.

She looks at Will in abject horror.]

Did I break it?!

[glumshoe]

[ He'd be curious to hear about her findings now that she's had sufficient time to do some thorough poking and prodding on Will. An argument can strongly be made that previous poking and prodding has been done at the poker's peril and frequently got the requisite swipes back or broken Will piece by piece, but for someone that has wriggled their way this deep under his skin and hasn't done anything untoward with it, he wonders that he's stumbled on a responsible keeper.

That pokes enough of her time to (charmingly) suspect that she's broken her gift, her delight absolutely shattering in mortification and that in no way makes Will laugh openly.

Not. At all. ]

You -

[ If her were less of a gentleman, he'd grab his stomach and not attempt to stifle his laughter like he is right now. ]

No it's, it's -

[ He's just going to gently grab the white strip on the picture and shake it until an image begins to emerge, blowing lightly on the fuzzy edges when he regains his breath. ]

[nascensibility]

[Responsible keeper or not, Evelyn has a long-standing rivalry with delicate objects, as she tends to wreak havoc wherever she goes and the precedent for destruction is as long and detailed as the archival inventory sheet back home. Initially, she can't tell whether Will is laughing at her or the situation itself, both of which appear utterly ridiculous in this moment as she gapes at him.

Corralling her offended huff - apparently she's done nothing wrong and he's just being a prat about it - Evelyn sends Hadeel a long-suffering look and reaches for the little slip of paper Will is waving about like a newsboy with hot press.]

All right, don't hurt your sides having a laugh,

[she mutters, plucking it from his fingers and examining the black square that has started to reveal a rather lopsided image of the cat. The blur clears the longer she stares at it and Evelyn's humiliation turns to intrigue, to quiet speculation, to slapping Will distractedly on the bicep with her free hand in excitement.]

...is this a self-developing photograph?!

[glumshoe]

My sides aren't hurt, but they are thoroughly tickled.

[ Will's intention is as far from humiliation as it could get. Education, sadly, sits next to humiliation and cribs off its terrible notes every once in a while, which, predictably, results in egg on someone's face. He is expanding someone's horizons in a small, incredibly specific and superfluous but undeniably entertaining ways conducive to scrapbooking. As Evie is already predisposed toward it. Which is all a very long-winded and silly way to say Will is definitely invested in encouraging her hobbies because they make her happy.

Watching that humiliation evolve into the exuberance he knew would rise up through the dirt with proper watering is absolutely rewarding. ]

None other than.

[ he replies, riding out the last few shockwaves of amusement. Fingers dance at the hem of her riding jacket, enchanted with the idea of touching her brightness in the throes of excitement and discovery, settling on the curve of her waist as Will smiles sidelong and leans closer, voice conspiratorial. ]

There's nothing wrong with a little instant gratification, right?

[nascensibility]

[Tickled or not, Evelyn hopes he's enjoyed the chuckle at her expense because she's currently enthralled by the technological advancement in her hands. Self-developing photographs mean that the dark room middleman can be cut out, hours spent in red shaved away, concerns about the exposure being warped by daylight - all gone. Will knows not - (or worse, perhaps he does know) - what he has wrought, a satisfied smile on his face the likes of which she's sure she hasn't seen since he flustered her over the network in the wee hours of the morning.]

You are positively medieval in your treachery,

[she informs him with unmistakable fondness, very much a proponent of having things when she wants them, and no later. Not unlike William the Conquerer Will is readily feeding her desire for victory and an adjournment to these travails, temptation not something that Evelyn has been known to ignore.

Camera gently finding a home on the sofa's cushion, Hadeel sniffing curiously at the flat square in her owner's hand, Evelyn beckons to her stubble-cheeked siren.]

C'mere.

[glumshoe]

[ As they found out under the effects of his truth curse, Will is enthusiastically for giving of himself, and though they baffle, he answers Evelyn's deviant turns with sinuous, chameleon-like ardor. He molds to her likes, happy for her likes to become his and become him.

She may yet record these moments, gifts of their own kind, and Will has to have accepted this in giving her the instrument of that documentation. It doesn't mean he won't dodge its all-seeing lens or otherwise grown an immunity to the embarrassment inherent in becoming a recurrent subject, but at present Evelyn would find him a captive embracing his cage's bars. Otherwise known as her dainty fingers, the soft palm settling on said stubbled cheek while he arches forward. ]

Little close-ranged for a portrait.

[nascensibility]

I'm committing this one to memory,

[she informs him quietly, soft-eyed and gentle in touch. Stickler for detail that she is it should be no stretch of the imagination that Evelyn's fingertips know the planes of his face the way she knows hieroglyphs, palms smoothing over ancient stone and warm skin alike with the same tactile fondness.

Will's proximity is intoxicating, the balm to a ragged burn after being deprived of his company and the subsequent return of the prodigal son to her embrace. She is aware it is foolish to desire his presence in a world of impermanence, to crave his understanding and bask in his affections...

...but to return them to the sender - a mirror that knows the best parts of him and wants him to see what they are - is utterly effortless.]

Besides, don't I owe you some kisses for the gift?

[glumshoe]

[ This place is a goddamn travesty of impermanence and persistence, of lives extended through mystical means beyond death and sudden, visceral loss of connections they'd had to form out of necessity when one party is sent home, perhaps after fulfilling some unknown, unseen objective, perhaps for fickle cruelty. Will had gone home and he is slowly mapping the crater that was left in this vibrant woman, precious ore mined from her heart.

He does what he can to restore it, a mutually mending process, positive feedback looping endlessly between her eyes and his, her soft touch and his giving mouth, hovering above hers. ]

Mm, I'll pass it onto the sender.

[nascensibility]

[Evelyn used to confidently state that she could do without anyone at all, and Jonathan's suggestions of where she might move upon becoming a spinster were always a source of amusement for the Carnahan siblings, thick as thieves. It is with greater self-assuredness that she now knows her strength rests within the connexions she makes, those affections she shares and those shared with her.

Will is one such bastion of fondness and devotion, whose fortifications she is happy to return to time and time again. Her fingers thread through the hair at his nape, a gentle desire to feed his love of sentimental nuzzling by bumping her nose against his before paying her dues.

Uncertain as to how many kisses her package was worth, Evelyn considers it the prudent option to offer more in the hopes of reimbursement, just to be on the safe side. They are tentative gestures at the start, slow and gentle and lingering, thoughtfully remembering the way his mouth moulds to hers and encouraging avid reciprocation.]

[avoirfaim]

[ It takes a great deal more than a bottle of antique wine to get off of Hannibal Lecter's list of insignificants, but it does help. With this gift, his memory of her caring for him when he was on his death bed, and the newer development of Will's evolution back home, he considers penciling her out of any future dinner plans unless otherwise necessary. There are, after all, so few in Wonderland who appreciate a Reserve Calvados, and he is nothing if not adaptable.

He knocks on her door with the bottle in hand, and a smile. ]

[nascensibility]

[As loathe as she was to admit it to herself, being away from both Hannibal and Will did marvels for clearing her head. Perhaps not in the way she expected, and certainly not in the way she wanted, but in a way that offered her closure where she had none. Lacking decisiveness is not a common ailment from which Evelyn suffers, but it is difficult to pry one's blinders free, even when one has worn them before and suffered for it.

Logically - and it should be noted that Evelyn is a large proponent of logic - Dean and John and Sam's arguments were all sound. Philip's suggestion that she exercise caution was similarly taken into account, her own bias having to be pointedly set aside as soon as she had time to herself.

Logically, Hannibal is the killer.

Whether Will believes the same or, being too close, cannot come to that conclusion, is ripe for debate. After the cordial greetings during the event Evelyn has considered her approach and wishes that the most likely option was not, in fact, the most likely option - baseless accusations are futile either way, the dearth of motive a strong case against conviction, and part of her still wants to greet Hannibal as the friend she thinks he may be.

Somewhere.

Answering the door and not expecting company, it is astonishingly easy to put on an effortless smile if only because she did genuinely miss her friends. It is not all that often that Evelyn is gifted with returnees.]

Hannibal!

[She glances down.]

You got my gift, I see. To what do I owe the pleasure?

[avoirfaim]

[ Logically, Hannibal is the killer, but logic in it's purest form is so easily muddled by that deeply human desire to find peace. Most people would rather be willfully ignorant than subject themselves to hard choices. What a shame for them that life's full of hard choices and logical killers.

He holds up the bottle, more than pleased about it. ] I felt that I should share the first drink, and take the opportunity to see how you're doing. May I come in?

[nascensibility]

[This narration is not about to argue semantics, as that is Evelyn's bailiwick, but her logic is born of experience and experience does not (usually) lie. Reckless as she is, she was once caught in the crossfire between two feuding forces and does not wish to reenact that particular chapter of her Wonderland story.]

I'm honoured.

[She steps aside then, gesturing that he enter.]

I'm not sure how much there is to tell - frankly, I'm surprised that you and Will are back, that...doesn't usually happen to people I know.

[Usually people leave her with memories, sometimes photos, sometimes small mementos accidentally left behind. Nothing more.]

[avoirfaim]

[ He does enter of course, the beast given entrance past the threshold months ago now. He goes to grab them both an aperitif glass each, taking his time to work the bottle open. An old vintage is one that should be treated with respect, after all. ]

And what do you think the reason is for that?

[nascensibility]

Just lucky, I suppose,

[quips the woman who does not believe in luck, sporting an exaggerated grimace and shutting the door behind him. Things - and by things the narration means Evelyn's temper - have had time to cool since the threat of the Jabberwock loomed over them like a stormcloud threatening to turn tornado, a whirlwind that would undoubtedly sweep Wonderland clean as it did the Christmas before this one.

The cuts Sam's Mirror inflicted will leave scars, but none so deep as the one reminding her that she pushed a knife into him before dragging his head up and forcing him to gaze into the looking glass.

None so deep as that.]

[avoirfaim]

I never took you for one who puts much stock in luck.

[ Luck is, after all, the passive man's excuse, and he doesn't find the passive to be worth very much. No, Evelyn's blatant lack of passivity was what made her a friend, even one he was able to forgive to an extent.

Forgiveness is not something he gives away so easily. It's a gift only for those worth something; you should be proud. ]

[nascensibility]

[Evelyn couldn't remain passive if her life depended upon it, which is a recurring theme in her interpersonal relationships and will sadly lead to her third death at the hands of the man she just invited into her rooms.]

Oh? And what makes you say that?

[The mildly-sarcastic bent edging into her tone is a product of Wonderland-induced cynicism, but her delivery is smooth and she retrieves two glasses and a corkscrew, setting all three on the parlour table.]

The lack of a rabbit's foot on my key-fob?