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[inhumanity]

[A handwritten letter arrives for Kanaya. The writing is flowing but legible cursive, but the writer periodically switches between red and green ink, and it is decorated with drawings of Edward Cullen.

It's a Christmas greeting, all right.]

Dear Kanaya,

You are most cordially invited to a celebration of family, friendship, forgiveness, and estrangement on December 17th from 3:00PM, or earlier, until whenever we feel like stopping, at [the address for the warehouse]. This season mustn't pass by without a grand affair full of of food and gift-giving, in the best of Christmas traditions.

Oh, but you don't have to bring gifts. There won't be any set gift-giving time. Besides, do you really want to give your friends presents so early? It's far better to make them wait until the 25th. Patience is an important quality to learn for the winter months. Of course, I'll prepare the food, unless you wish to contribute some. Please keep any amount of arsenic in food below fatal levels for human children!

In the spirit of Christmas and all ritualistic holidays designed to prepare communities for defence against a harsh winter of dangerous weather and low quantities of food, you are invited to bring anyone you feel like. While more people is a greater strain on resources, the contribution of any individual to the group balances that out with the warmth and love provided. Let's gather together and avoid a cruel death in the months to come.

Hoping for your presence and survival, your friend,
Christopher Chareau de Red

[post is here, tag in at your leisure or handwave or excuse yourself however you like!]

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[speakveryclearly]

In this cruel and unforgiving world, there are a few things Kanaya Maryam believes in with the pureheartedness only possible for someone underneath the legal drinking age. The benevolence of the Initiative. The literary merits of the Twilight Saga. The importance of not wearing socks with sandals.

And number four on that list is the meaning of Christmas.

The one time of the year that she cannot resent the unfair decline of her original culture and its replacement by the inferior civilizations of humanity. Christmas is when humans put their capacity for nothing but deception and theft to good use: They steal gifts for one another, and tell the lie that they love each other. The equivalent solstice festival of twelth perigee's eve happened less than half as often and is impossible to calculate with a different lunar and solar calendar; there is no use mourning its loss when Christmas is on the horizon, and she can finally experience a "White Christmas", whatever that means.

As she prepares her clothing on the 17th, she smiles at the reflection in the mirror of the letter on her desk. "Your friend, Christopher", he had signed it. The man might be insufferable in some ways, but maybe for Christmas she could pretend he wasn't so bad. She'll contribute her presence, at least.

Though she has to wonder how the hell he found out her residence.