smash_logs | merry merry christmas, and I want you to know

Entry tags:

merry merry christmas, and I want you to know

Who: YOU
What: KISSLETOES
When: December 14th - January 1st
Where: Everywhere
Warnings: Sloppy makeouts.

SUDDENLY, AND WITHOUT WARNING...

title or description

The entire school has become covered in mistletoe overnight. It grows out of the walls! The ceilings! Everywhere you least expect it? HOW CAN THIS BE??

It's probably best not to think about it. Attempts to uproot the plants or burn them away only makes the plants grow back faster. For the time being, it seems the school must live with it.

[OOC INSTRUCTIONS:
+ Post dudes, get kisses!
+ Some (NOT ALL) plants are cursed. If you manage to step under a cursed plant, you will exchange a memory when or if you exchange a kiss. The memories will be first-person and very vivid, and characters will feel like they are experiencing the memory in real time, though in reality the transfer is instantaneous. Memories can be as short, long, happy, sad, or traumatic as you like.
+ If you'd like to participate, we highly suggest making a list of a few memories (with accompanying links/descriptions) that are up for grabs, and linking or posting the list in your top-level comment. Memory exchange is COMPLETELY OPTIONAL. When in doubt, OOC communication!
+ PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE TAG YOUR CHARACTERS
+ That's it, we love you.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Well, I'm happy to be a pleasant surprise." he replied with a little smile in her direction. It was... rare. That he thought of himself as a pleasant anything.

He'd take it.

"It's especially nice to know that we're alike, considering we've both decided we're here to stay. Always nice to have a like minded individual about to chat with. Or walk with."

The outdoors was actually very nice today. The sky was blue, taking a break from either snowing or raining, and the wind was gentle. Everything looked bright and felt fresh. Utterly pleasant.

If she hadn't been accustomed to the cold, it probably would have stung her face. Instead, she felt as unmoved by it as she did most other things. It was difficult to stir a creature like her. Ziio often felt like she was stone. And perhaps that was age and disappointment that touched her and left her in such a manner. She could have blamed Haytham. She could have blamed the Templars. She didn't. They were just pieces to the larger puzzle.

She nodded along, unable to find anything to disagree with. "Yes," Ziio began. "There are not so many here that I can do that with. Many that I enjoy the company of. But not many who would truly understand me." And not many that she was completely comfortable with. And to be fair, Ziio had never portrayed herself as the kind of woman that was easy to get on with. She knew she was intimidating, but had no intention of changing that.

All for protection, she supposed. Only the stupid would prod her.

"I can empathize." Jon replied. "Even the folk who have tried will never particularly get it... I'd not expect them to. I really wouldn't. But it's nice to know there's at least one soul here who's on my page."

Jon had grown less intimidating over time. And really, he didn't mind. He knew that he'd never be the most approachable lad on campus, and that was OK. But he'd grown accustomed to living with others to the point where he could comfortably move around here without feeling as though there was something he needed to prove. Unlike the scrappy, surly, mean spirited man he'd been when he first arrived.

He thought she was on his page, hm? It was almost flattering, if Ziio really knew what flattery was. She peered sidelong to him with thought and offered only silence to begin. She didn't know what else she really had to give. She was pretty certain that at the end of the day the only thing she had was herself. And maybe that was all he wanted. She could respect that.

"Yes," she found herself repeating. "Of course. Better to have one than none. Seems I was more fortunate in that respect. Ratonhnhakè:ton understands me well enough. As he should. So I have two, then."

"Ratonhnhakè:ton?" Jon repeated to the best of his ability. He... wasn't familiar with the name. He knew of Connor, of course, but he hardly knew the full name of every staff member.

Right. Because the only people who seemed to know his given name were Gordon and Eirika. Ziio hesitated for a moment, if only because trying to call him anything other than it was difficult and sat awkwardly on her tongue. "You likely know him as Connor. He and I are of the same place, though not of the same time." Considering she imagined he'd prefer it if she didn't spout off about their familial relation.

After all, the people who needed to know, knew. That was good enough, no? It'd have to be for the time being, she supposed.

"Ah, yes. Connor. I do know of him as that. Quite right."

The two had never really spoken at length, but Connor seemed a hard working sort. Dependable. Professional in what he did. All admirable qualities.

"I was unaware he was tied to you, even by place of origin."

"Oh, really?"

She was smiling again, because she honestly thought it was obvious. But perhaps it was because her company with Connor was usually not blatantly in front of others. Sometimes they were together publicly, but usually they were not.

"If you put the two of us beside one another, I believe we would look like siblings. When we are together, there is familiarity. Or so I have heard."

Jon took a step back in the snow and raised his hand to his chin, studying her face thoughtfully for a second. Not that he was unfamiliar with how she looked - he would admit, though, that he'd never really looked very carefully at Connor. Connor did not have the same appeal for Jon as Ziio did.

"....I can see it. I suppose it might be possible that you're related? Same place but a different time and similar appearance? I'd wager it's possible."

She nodded as she heard him. "You're very intuitive." She was biased. Of course Ziio saw herself in Connor. How could she not? Mother and son. A mother knew when her son was her son, and briefly she replayed the first reunion between him and her. An awkward crossing of paths that they still weren't really as close as family should have been. And they never would be, either.

But Ziio accepted that, even if a bit begrudgingly.

"You'll have to take a closer look in the future. Provided you get the opportunity to. Ratonhnhakè:ton is a private man and not always convenient to catch an eye of," she admitted with a subtle smile.

"I'll see what I can do about getting a good look. I'd prefer to be somewhat covert about it. I'm sure he'd feel no great comfort in another fellow staring at his face, and I'd certainly take no satisfaction in him seeing me taking a gander..."

He imitated the look of someone trying to study something intently. Not the sort of look anyone liked to receive.

She chuckled a little, though it was quiet and to most people, it probably wouldn't have even been considered a chuckle. "You do not even know him and yet it must be obvious about him. He has no great fondness for attention." Something they had in common.

But then she elbowed Jon as carefully as she could when he demonstrated his look for her. "In the event that you should ever look at me in such a way, at least I will know what it is you are trying to accomplish."

"Oh, of course." he replied with a chuckle of his own. "Though, I would like to think I've a good enough memory that I can just call your face to mind without the visual aid."

"It would be a bit disconcerting if you could not," she agreed. "You've seen me plenty of times by this point. If you still needed to see me to put a name to the face, then I'd think everything that's happened today would be without point."

Because she was relatively certain that he wouldn't have come to the rescue of anyone that he didn't remotely know.

"I'd think so, too."

He smiled at her, then.

"No. I daresay yours is a face I'll remember well for a very long time to come."

Hey, just because his hair was silver, that didn't mean his memory was any worse for wear.

"...Oh?"

Ziio stopped for a few moments and then she cocked an eyebrow. "You like looking at it that much, then." Kind of jesting. Sort of. She never noticed if he looked at her that much. Not necessarily because she was expecting it, but rather that most of the time he seemed like the kind of guy who'd simply be straight forward about what he wanted and when he wanted it.

But on the other hand, Ziio had never seen herself too much of a romantic, so it was easy to use that as an excuse, too.

"Aye." he replied, without any further prompting required. She had a pretty face. Strong, stoic, often serious, but pretty. And when she DID smile, it was like the sun coming out.

"I don't go out of my way to spend time with a great many people. You're one of the few. Your face does, indeed, brighten my day."

"I detect flattery," she replied, unable to keep her mouth from slipping into it's characteristic subtle curve. "You seem to be holding a lot of that today, Jon. Dare I ask why none of this has come up before? It's not the first time you've seen me, after all."

And it wasn't like they'd spent a good deal of time apart. Ziio liked thinking she saw Jon on a fairly regular basis, even if they didn't have the frequent heart-to-heart conversations. Because to be fair, she wasn't any good at those and wanted to keep them as low in number as possible.

"No. It isn't. But it is, in fact, the first time you have asked me any specific questions about my opinion of your face."

She could not dispute this: She had never once before now asked him if he even liked her face. At least, not so far as he remembered.

"True," Ziio admitted. There was validity present in his words. She never asked, because it hadn't mattered to her. It still didn't, in the moment they shared together, so why had she asked?

Curiosity, she told herself. There is nothing wrong with being curious.

"And now I know. And I do happen to like yours as well." Because he deserved that. If he could be so open with her, it wasn't going to kill her to be at least a teeny, tiny, little bit more open with him.

"Well, I DO appreciate hearing that." Jon replied with a little smirk. "Always nice to know one's mug isn't too terribly bothersome to the eye."

He wasn't at all going to admit that it made him genuinely happy to hear that she liked his face. He never spent much time worrying over his appearance - he didn't shave every day, he didn't look for particularly well matching sets of clothes, and he didn't always bother with combing his hair, putting on shoes or making sure that he was perfectly clean after running about in the woods. But hearing her say that she liked his face? That at least made him glad he'd washed up this morning.

"Oh, yes," Ziio began without skipping a beat. "I am positive that was just something you spent a good deal of time concerning over."

And she imagined he didn't. And she also imagined that he probably knew she wasn't being serious. Sarcasm could have been a middle name if Ziio followed modern day naming conventions.

Although on the other hand, she couldn't say she really disagreed. She liked the idea of someone appreciating how she looked, even if it didn't really make a difference. Even if Jon hadn't liked her face, there was nothing she could have done to change it. And if she could, she still wouldn't have. There was so much more to be concerned with than someone's appearance.

Yet it didn't hurt to appreciate someone's whose was nice.

"Oh, indubitably. I spend hours in the mirror, me, adjusting my hair and the like."

One glance at his hair could tell you that this was an absurd fabrication. Though, he knew people who DID spend a great deal of time worrying their hair into place. It seemed kind of funny to Jon, if he were honest.

Then again, this was a man who spent roughly 10 seconds in the morning assigning himself a wardrobe for the day. And that was if he was bothering to wear a shirt.

Is he serious?

As she eyed him, Ziio realised she didn't know the man well enough to make that judgment. Her eyebrows knit together as she studied his face carefully and when she knew that staring would not grant her any of the answers she sought, she looked aside and shook her head.

"Do you, really?" Because to be honest, he often looked as if he tumbled out of his bed and merely went about his day. And that didn't really bother her, considering she certainly never stood in front of a bathroom mirror to make sure she looked right as rain.

"Ah. No. That was an attempt at humor on my part." he replied. "I've no great gift for it, I'll admit."

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