[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

[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.]