The night has finally arrived with much bustling, decorating and gift wrapping. In the grand hall, Tori busies herself with putting the last bow on a silver-wrapped gift sitting beneath the tree. She is decked out for this special occasion, as well, dressed in dark greens, accented with burgandy. The long sweater she wears is made of a dark green wool, which is draped over a long burgandy skirt. Even her hair is tied up with green and burgandy ribbons -- only the sides, so that they stay out of her face.
     She glances over at a much larger package not too far away from her, noticing some of the ribbon is slipping. Hurrying over to it, she quickly fixes this problem. This package is rectangular and stands nearly eight feet high, no doubt because it sits on a furniture dolly. Surely it can't be as big as it looks?

     You have heard the rustling from upstairs. The steps. The silence. The shower. The steps. More silence. And then, finally, steps again. At least that much. And you know that Strathfayr is constantly alive. At least from the time of sunset on, when you may be aware of such. And the sun sets so early here -- especially today. The night of the longest night...
     Pinpricks. The first sensations of his arrival. It crests, increasing, even as his steps descend the staircase. The closer he comes, the more tangible the feeling. And then he is visible, dressed for outside, in black and white. Hell, he could ski in that outfit -- the outerwear is white and waterproof, there's a black wrap around his neck and already up and over his nose. Where's he going? Everest? No, just outside to check the weather. Ah, winter in the highlands. And it's only the first day!
     William lowers the scarf and shows a curious grin, indigo eyes flitting back and forth from gifts to the giver. "Merry Yule," he says, not expecting to have surprised her. She and her spidey-senses as Davy-bach calls them. "What have we here?" William wonders, idly. As if.

     The other is not yet seen. Servants wander in and out of the main floor of the keep, taking the back staircase to do much of their work. The trees in the room are filled with gifts that are part of the keep's large gift exchange system. No need for everyone to think they must get everyone something. Keeps things modest that way.
     Of course, the lords are exempt. Their boxes, in reds and blues this year, are the predominant. Something for everyone who keeps the keep.

      Of course you didn't surprise her, especially when it seems the very stones of this place speak to her. She replies lightly, "Happy Yule!" even before she turns toward you -- a warm smile is in her voice. And sure enough, when she spins on her heel, you can see that smile echoed in her very expression.
     "Well, you look like you're ready for a snowy mountain expedition!" she exclaims, grinning from ear to ear. "Shall I call you Nanook of the North?" That grin slants slightly as she lets out a chuckle and places her hands on her hips. Glancing back at the parcels behind her, she replies, "Well... just a little something I picked up for two of my closest friends, that's all..." You and Ian, that is.

      A large open hearth breathes warmly along the keep's inner wall. Behind a grate, the embers and popping mass is safely stored -- more for the keep's sake than anything else. Trays and bowls hold all sorts of holiday treats and goods; something delectable always a hand's reach away.
     Fresh greenery livens up the usually dark room, giving the wood panels a bit of color. Berries are out of the way of any childer that might wander through.

     Nanook. He looks down at himself, taking a quick survey of one of his three layers of clothing then chuckles. "Something like that, oui. I have learned in my...hmmm..." he peers at you, and the grin slants, "... well, several years in Scotland, never to underestimate the power of the Highland wind. So, I am well padded under here, three layers, I think I am prepared. Ian and I were thinking of taking a quick ride." There's a flash of a grin and a quick rise of color. Well, you know what I mean...
     He looks past you to the gifts, and then back to you. "You did not have to do that, but... we thank you. I like gifts. But... I like giving them more. I will have the boys bring yours down," he murmurs in an aside. "And being your closest friend is an honor," he quips with a half bow of his head. "So... any hints?" Yes, he'll dig. Why not? That's the fun of it all. William grins, pulls you into a hug, quick and brief, and then frees you, gloved hands reaching for one of the treats hidden from the children who wander through during the day.

     The hug is gladly taken and returned as Tori murmurs, "Well, at least you are prepared." As you release her, she adds, "Oh, a ride. That should be lovely. Will you open a few gifts before you go, or will you wait until you return?" Her gaze then flickers about. "And where is Ian, anyway? I haven't seen him yet this eve." Things have been too hectic and busy, surely.
     But Tori has jumped right in, helping wherever she could lend a hand. She's set out bowls and helped with the last bits of decorating. Then of course she had to direct her gifts for the two lords into this room as some of the staff helped to wheel the one in here. She's just been having a ball, with or without the two of you... however, it would be more fun with you both.

     "He'll be down. He was wrapping up a few things. Work. And trying to get over the shock of his own present." And he chuckles at that. Hell of a surprise. I think I may have outdone even myself. William looks to her, chocolate-covered hazelnut popped into his mouth, and he lifts a brow. "You're welcome to come with, if you like. I've never known you to ride," he smiles, "...but...there's always time to learn, oui?"

     There is a smile to that. "Well, thank you for the gracious offer, William, but I can't. The horses..." Her voice trails off and makes a bit of a helpless gesture with her hands. Her taint is not completely gone just yet.
     "I don't think you are even strong enough to hold one steady for me to approach, much lest mount and ride off into the wilderness." The comment is said softly, but with laughter. Smiling, she murmurs, "No... you two go without me. I am not going anywhere, so I will be here when you return."

     Ah, but he's already on the staircase, his steps sounding leaden and heavy. Boots and a slogging walk. There's a sigh as Ian arrives on the ground floor landing, pushing the already open door further open, then closing it behind him with a sigh.
     "We need elevators," he grumbles, dressed no less thickly than William. Heavy wool coat hides layers and layers beneath, and the coat drapes to the tops of his boots. A riding coat, but not without functionality. Behind him, a hood hangs.
     "Oh, you are here," Ian notes, shoving gloves into his pockets. "Did you want to come riding?" he asks, that as much a greeting as anything else. But, even as he asks, head tilts to the side. He expects you'll decline. "Is she coming?" he asks, just in case he's late to this question.

     He was listening as well as turning. A smile crossing his features. "Ah, no... we'll be on our own for that, not that I can blame her for it. I think we'll need to defrost for an hour on our return," he exaggerates, voice warm even as he shall surely not be in a few minutes. A hand reaches out for Ian. "Ah, adding lifts... well... that'd take a good two years..." he murmurs. See! Chenonceau can be practical afterall.
     William turns to Tori then, smile yet on his features, indigo eyes full of shine. "We can open gifts before we go, oui... it's early yet, besides... either of you want a drink. Warm wine," he says to Ian, "...before we go out and freeze our bits off, cher?" He can't help the chuckle.

     Her ice-blue gaze flickers from William over to Ian as he enters the room. "Ahh, there you are..." she says, offering the blonde one a warm smile. She moves forward with her arms open to him, expecting a hug of course.
     She says to William, "Good.. I just wanted to give you both the first half of your gifts before you went out, if that's alright."

     The hug is returned, if quickly. Ian seems rather interested in the frosty ride. "Drink? Gift." Ian nods. "Alright," he smiles, "...but, um...I didn't get very much for anyone this year..." he says. Moving to an arm of a nearby sofa, Ian takes a seat, pulling William so that his hand stays in his own.

     Tori blinks slowly at Ian for a moment, then laughs. "My friend, being within your presence during this time of year is a gift enough for me. So, just shush, hm?" she replies with a grin.
     She points to the larger of the two packages she had been fussing over and says, "That one is yours, Ian." It's immense. Even if it didn't stand on the furniture dolly, it would likely still be about seven feet tall and extremely wide. What on earth could it be? But it's all wrapped up in blue and silver, just like any gift might be.
     The one she had just placed beneath the tree is wrapped in a similar fashion and is now pointed at. "That one is for you, William." She looks absolutely excited, yet anxious at the same time.

     "I took care of the gifting this year," William seems to announce, as Ian takes his hand and pulls him, too. "In fact, I insisted." A look to Ian, a wink. "Sometimes... generosity moves me," actually, it often moves him. Frequently. He'd give it all away eventually, if he didn't have people looking out for things. He gets a certain amount every year specifically for giving away. To family. To friends. To the people of his village. A servant arrives, a young woman, "Warm wine, dear Briggy, before I freeze straight through." As if he could in all those clothes. "What one's for Ian, holy Jesu..." then he halts suddenly, "Ah, my apologies," he seems to murmur to Baby Jesus himself. But then again... it's not Christmas yet.
     "I want to watch you open that huge thing over there," William murmurs to Ian, and he leans in, a kiss placed on the crown of that golden head. And a grin. "I'll pour the wine," he says more loudly, as Briggy returns with an ornate pewter-like flagon, very 12th Century, and along with it, three cups of the same. She leaves it on the table with a smile. "One more thing, Briggy," William says, a glance given to Tori. "Could you go to the music room and bring the box? Or if it is too heavy, have one of the lads bring it down."
     "Of course, laird," Briggy murmurs and she moves to the turret to do as asked.

     The large box is for him. Ian shakes his head, not sure what he's done for the gifts he's getting this year. Keen eye can tell that he's almost uncomfortable and definitely surprised. But it is a gift, and he tries to take it as such. "Me?" he mumbles, standing again from the half-seat he'd just taken. Oh well. No getting comfortable yet.
     Ian lets William's hand go, moving towards the large box. "Alright," he mumbles at himself, well out of audible for most, save those of special abilities. A knife is drawn from somewhere in his coat, and he seeks a safe spot to begin the paper's carving.

     Tori just smiles as she watches Ian approach the gigantic box. If she smiled any wider, her face might split in two. But she worries on her bottom lip here or there, as though she's concerned he won't like it. But she keeps quiet for now.

     One day, you will know why we do these things. Why we, those who love you, are compelled to do these things, Ian. To give you castles. To lay down treasures at your feet. Maybe one day, you will realize how stunning you are, and you will understand.
     But for now, I will pour the wine...
     Heated, smelling of clove and cinnamon, it pools into three cups. Mulled. Spiced. Hot. It will warm the soul as well as the skin. William looks up from the task he has given himself, to watch Ian approach the enormous thing. He glances up as soft footfalls announce the arrival of servants. Briggy, followed by one of the young valets. He sets a red and gold silk box, a round box like a 17th century hatbox really, down nearby, but neither servant speaks. They simply set it down and leave.
      William looks from Tori, a wink given there, and then to Ian. There, his look fixes. Yes, amours, one day you will know.

     The knife slips behind a panel of paper, the incision almost invisible. With the blade parallel to the paper, Ian slices downward several inches, giving himself a place to begin this process.
     With a retract and flip close, the dagger disappears again into a pocket.
     "Well, a crate," he begins with a smile, blonde hair falling to the side of his face as he bends sideways, as if investigating. Fingers slip into the cut he's made, and he tears the paper downwards, as if he's expecting another means of opening the item inside. The paper can't be essential to this gift, can it?
     He exhales.
      The paper shears leftwards now, exposing, indeed, a crate beneath.
     "Alright," he says again, talking to himself as well as the box. Hand reaches behind a still hidden section, finding a latch.

     Tori watches in rapt silence as the paper falls away and the crate is revealed beneath. She clasps her hands behind her back and rocks back and forth on her heels, whistling a bit with a grin.
     All he has to do is pull the latch and the gift inside will be revealed... she falls utterly silent.

     The latch must have a mirror. Ian grunts and bends, attempting to find a lower latch, equidistant from the bottom edge of the crate as the first. He's rewarded, a smile pulling at his face as he stands and pulls open the crate door. The remainder of the paper shears in his motion, but he seems not worried about it.
     Ian stands aside, not seeing what's inside immediately. That, he reveals to you two first. But once the door is perpendicular to the crate, he bends around the door to see inside.
     Then, he steps around, falling into silence as Tori does nearby, one hand curled around the wood door.

     A cup is offered to Tori, a smile. And another is set near the sofa. That, for Ian. William brings his cup to his mouth, a grateful sip. And then he sees it, and it stops him mid-sip. He lowers the cup. Were it anyone else giving Ian statuary, William might get jealous -- sculptor that he is. But Tori gives it, and so he may simply stand amazed.
     "That's incredible," he murmurs. Well what he can see of it. Indigo flickers to Tori, and the look is one of appreciation. We may have to get a Plantagenet lion now, to match.

     Worrying on her lip a bit, Tori now stills herself, watching Ian very closely. Ian's reaction certainly worries her a bit, but she resists the urge to babble about how if it's too big or if he doesn't like it, she could get him something else and such. Although it's very difficult to hold all of this back.

     "Well, Marie-Claire," Ian says upon an exhale. "I am impressed." He twists to see the gift's giver, smiling small. More warm than anything else. Ian doesn't speak, but simply nods his head, lips pressing together. A good thing it is, if you could read his mind. Stunning.
     Then he chuckles, again upon a heavy sigh. No, he does not get it, how he comes by such things. Ian stares at the griffin a few more moment, hand still upon the crate door.

     Tori's face bursts into a huge smile. She is so pleased. She lets out a breath, even if she really doesn't need to, and just beams. "She said if you wanted a mate for it, it could be arranged, but that it might not be ready until next Yule.." she murmurs with a wink, then looks over to William.
     He likes it. Phew. She truly does seem relieved. "Happy Yule, Ian," she adds as she looks back at him and the griffin.

     I know the perfect place for it. William sips the warm wine. Chenonceau has a lovely set of gardens, and a little park with arches in a wood. Or here, in the gardens, quite frankly. Or in the middle of Chinon's park. Take your pick, beloved.
     William takes a seat on the sofa, finally, spreading out, quite lordly, and from this vantage he has the best view of Ian, along with the statuary. "It is amazing. Oh, a mate. Now, what could properly mate with such a griffon?" he wonders, languid baritone moving over those words and then he grins. "Maybe a lion. Or would you prefer a dragon?"
     The wine is gone in another swallow and he leans over, long reach bringing his box a little closer to him. It'd be easier if he stood, but then... he'd have to move. "Tori, while he stands in shock, why not open yours?"
     The red and gold silk box...

     There is a grin that is tossed to William as Tori chuckles. "Well, I'm just pleased that it is liked. I would have hated to try to take it back..." Another wink, this time aimed at Ian. Can you imagine what Marie-Clare would say? Ugh!
     But seriously..
     "Well, if you choose to, just let her know what you want. Let's just say she owes me," Tori says with a grin. Her eyes then trail over to the red and gold silk box as William points to it. Oh, it's so pretty...the way the light hits it...
     She has been doing so well to not let all the colours and lights distract her, and even this simple little box causes a distraction. She wills herself to move toward it and not freeze up. Forcing herself to look up at William, she points a slender finger at his box. "Are you going to wait for me to open this, or will you open your first?"

     He continues to look his his griffin. His! Ian smiles at the thought, only turning away from the creature when there is another box being discsused. He perhaps heard about the mate, but Ian was smiling too brightly at the sculpture to respond.

     "Oh go on," William murmurs, grin angling across that mouth of his, "...you know you want to." And meanwhile, he'll actually get out of his chair. The long reach just wasn't doing it. And, well... as a side benefit, he may come up behind Ian, a hand to his back, a murmur to his ear. The language is old French -- Tori can hear it, afterall -- but it doesn't sound so much like the French France itself is accustomed to.
     That is the look he's been wanting to see all night...
     Drawing away from Ian, William bends, taking up the box and heading back to the sofa. His eyes tend toward Tori, however, and her red and gold box. "Ian's idea, my handiwork..." he notes. "Well, apart from the box. I can't claim that..."

      Tori drags her gaze back down to the pretty box before her as she closes the distance to it. Her fingers grasp the gold and red silk bow and gently tugs on it until it comes loose.
     Then the lid is lifted and set aside so she can look within.
     There is a soft gasp from her direction as she exclaims, "Oh, it's beautiful!" All those scents... only a drop would do for her sensitive senses. She lifts one of the small bottles and inspects the labels in great detail. Her gaze is then ripped away from the small bottle to look in your direction as she nearly cries, "Oh, thank you... both of you. It's so lovely."

     It's good she likes it. Ian smiles, finally deciding to take his arm seat again. From there, he can see his griffin and the both of you. "I was worried it would be an overwhelming gift," he observes.

     Paper is in the process of being ripped. "All of that liqueur brewing has come in handy. I am an expert bottler and labeler. I could have a second career, you know... in case the art thing doesn't work out." So deadpan. Perfect delivery. And then William smiles. "You're welcome. But ...oui... there was that thought, but then... I thought maybe... a little behind the ears and you could have a good time in Paris." Or wherever.
     William glances up as Ian sits on the arm of the sofa beside him, he winks. A castle and a huge sculpture to go with. Not a bad take, Dunross. You are loved, yes? You see this? "Now, is there anything delicate in here, or can I have at it like a barbarian?"

     Forcing herself to look directly at Ian and not at the bottle in her hands, Tori murmurs gently, "It nearly is, in truth... it is just so pretty. But I wouldn't have it any other way. So, if you don't see me for a few days after this, just check on me to make sure I'm not sitting in my room gazing incessantly at it, would you?" She winks again, then carefully puts the bottle in the box.
     "You did a beautiful job, William... and it was a lovely idea, Ian. I love it!" she adds with a genuine smile.
     Looking to William, she then chuckles and shakes her head, "I wouldn't say delicate... there might be parts that could break, but they're mostly durable. Just go for it."

     Wrapped within crimson tissue paper lies a few items. The first is made of various materials, but mostly plastic and metal. It looks like a gun, but not one you could just buy at the local ammo shop. This looks more 'futuristic', leading to a possible assumption that it's not a 'real' gun. It is black with a silver stripe along the side of the long barrel, and has a scope on the top. In truth, it looks along the lines of a sniper rifle, but with more gizmos on it than a 'standard issue' might have. The scope has a couple of buttons, and it looks like the barrel can be shorted or removed for different 'effects'.
     Accompanying the gun is a series of other accessories. A set of goggles -- or something like goggles -- in the same black and silver as the gun is found within the tissue paper. Different sets of lenses can be set on them, allowing for magnified vision, infra-red, etc. A set of non-slip gloves without fingers in them have also been included, so one cannot let their gun slip too easily from one's hands, but fingers can move freely. Beneath these, a combat uniform can be seen, complete with the usual camoflage print -- in browns, not greens. And beneath the uniform, two more items are found -- a cartridge for the gun, filled with brightly coloured shells; and a set of ownership papers for a "Paintball World" located in London.

     A gun? That's surprising. Such collecting his more his thing. And a strange gun at that. Ian stares over William's shoulder, trying to understand the weapon inside the box -- it doesn't match any make or model that he knows. And he knows.
     And combat gear?
     And those shells?
     No, this is confusing to Ian, who stares at it, his brown becoming more and more knitted at this gift.

     As the paper is easily dispensed with, there's nothing delicate about that, he opens gifts like he takes off clothes. It goes everywhere. Left on the floor for others to cleanup later. The box is opened and at first, there's the cocking up of an eyebrow. Oh, artillery. And then the other brow lifts. A rifle at that, but not for the usual sort of ammo.
     And then he grins.
     "Finally, a woman who understands me," he says with a Henryesque flair as he lifts the paintball rifle and shows it to Ian. "Of course you know... this means war..."
     And as he winks to Ian, still wearing that grin -- vipers distended by the way, that's what weaponry does for him, real or no -- he pulls up the papers for Paintball World. "Aha... I own property in London at last...and useful property at that." The combat gear probably won't fit, but that's alright, it doesn't matter. it's the gun that counts. "Paintball World," he explains to Ian. "Remember our battles on our back fifty in Oregon? Those were nights." He laughs and then looks to Tori, rising from the sofa and reaching out for a hug. "You're a dear, to give me implements of destruction. Most are neither that kind, nor that brave, my friend."

     Tori beams again. Two for two. She's obviously pleased at the effect her gifts have managed to create tonight. "I'm glad you like it, William.. perhaps you will both have to teach me out to play sometime, non?" she suggests, giggling at the thought of running through a series of bunkers and faux trees in combats, leaping out of the way of neon and glow-in-the-dark paint splatters.
     Grinning, she then murmurs, "Well, I shouldn't keep you both... go, enjoy your ride tonight, and when you come back, the final portion of your gift will be unveiled." Yes, there's more, gentlemen. And it's a good thing neither of you can read her mind.

     Ah, the light comes on. He'd missed the 'Paintball World' paperwork. Then, Ian's eyes roll. "Wonderful," he mock-laments, pushing off the arm again. Time for a ride. All these gifts, can well, make one almost emotional. Ian chuckles at the mention of more. "More?" he says, fishing out his gloves and shaking his head.

     "Just one more gift when you come back.. I promise," Tori murmurs, smiling quietly to herself. Although, that depends on whether or not she'll be able to distract herself from the pretty box of scented bottles before her...

     Setting the box aside, William rises. Full of vigor, ready to face the cold. Gloves come on and he begins to outfit himself for the great outdoors. "More? You will spoil us. And I am already rotten, n'est-ce pas?" A look to Ian. But still you manage to love me.
     "Ready, amours?" he murmurs, and as he begins to move, he pauses by Tori. A bend, a kiss on the top of her head. "Merci, ami." Rising, he turns to Ian, and pulls up the scarf -- high-tech stuff this, the latest in winter gear wear -- hiding the grin that lives behind it. "It should be clear enough for the woods, a lovely night. It was clear last time I looked," weather report requested, weather report granted. "We'll see you in a bit," he says in parting to Tori.

Posted by rowan at June 16, 2003 02:23 PM