Snow falls while they all sleep. It falls thick and heavy, a fresh blanket of the stuff everywhere. The moonlight gleams against the sparkling white, making the crystals as colorful as diamonds crushed to dust. And dawn comes too early, but the children go on sleeping. For awhile at least. Irena is the first one to open her eyes. She does so slowly, as though the chill in the air will sleep in through her eyes and make her whole body shiver. She can see through the window and spies a tree out front, sees the boughs laden with piles of snow. For awhile her brain, still sleepy, does nothing more than process the image, so different from what she's used to waking up to in her own bed, in her own house. Soon enough she can remember why this bed feels different, why this room smells different. She can smell her sister, hear Renata's breathing.
It hits her like a bolt from the clear blue sky and her eyes go wide, her skin tightening up with eager tension. For some reason it seems important not to wake Renata, so she scoots carefully to the edge of her air mattress and rolls off of it with a near-silent thump, rolling herself up in her blanket as she goes. She shuffles to the door and slips out as quietly as she can, leaving it open a crack. It's easier to sneak into the boys' room across the hall, since the only door is a curtain, but she tiptoes over to Emanek and crouches down, shaking him by the shoulder.
"Eman," she whispers, til he breathes in deeply, his eyes popping open. They swirl around the room a bit before focusing on his big sister. "Come on," she whispers, so as to not wake Milos, "it's Christmas."
Somehow his eyes seem to get wider. He's not as good at being quiet as she is, she notices, but doesn't shush him, because shushing is only adding noise, and it'll wake their brother. Emanek is shivering, so he follows her lead and wraps his blanket around himself as well, tiptoeing out of the room with her and out into the living room. They peer at the Christmas tree to see if it's changed. It's all lit up, and they don't realize that this is because it's on a nifty little timer. All they see is it twinkling, multicolored and saturating the entire room with the scent of pine. There are, Emanek thinks, probably about a hundred presents over there. Maybe a thousand.
He grabs Irena's pajama sleeve and tugs, pointing silently to the railing going up the stairs. She has to breathe in quick and shut her mouth hard to keep from squealing at the sight of stuffed-full stockings, bouncing a little on her toes. There's one for everyone, she counts, even the cat. That makes her think: "We should let Kando out," she whispers to Emanek, which is code for: you do it.
And he does, because he likes the cat named candy, and when Danicka told him that Lukas's favorite treat is candied orange kolaches, he laughed when he got the joke, thinking Lukas was totally silly. Which is true, but he hadn't quite understood how much til then. Before that, Lukas's silliness was mostly confined to turning Emanek upside-down at random times. Emanek shuffles over to Kandovany's carrier, nearly tripping over his blanket, and lets her out. She sniffs at his fingertips briefly, then goes off in a tidy trot to use her litter box downstairs. She does not know or care what day it is, but her food bowl is empty, her water bowl half-full, so she begins hunting to see if there are any mice or bugs or anything downstairs. There aren't, but she likes hunting.
Upstairs, Irena and Emanek are beside themselves, staring at the tree, the stockings, the presents, but nobody is awake and they're not sure if they'll get in trouble if they wake people up but presents. Irena notices that the time is now well past seven thirty and this means the grown-ups should be awake. Better check with Lukas and Danicka, though. So she takes Emanek with her, even though he's holding a gift under the tree to his ear as though that will give him some hint as to what it is. She's pretty sure that left alone, he wouldn't be able to restrain himself, so she makes him go upstairs too. Upstairs, and around the corner, and tiptoeing down to the bedroom door where the grown-ups sleep.
Danicka's back is to the door when there's a gentle, quiet tapping on it. She stirs, her breathing shifting a moment, but just goes back to sleep. The door opens but does not creak, not in this house, where Lukas finds so much ridiculous joy in doing things like oiling hinges. The real noise is made by two small children who are trying very hard to be quiet, but their blankets rustle and their footsteps thump and they are getting so eager that even Milos and Renata are starting to wake up to the sounds of life moving around the house.
When Lukas wakes, Danicka is turning over onto her back, her arm still half-draped over his waist, and he can hear her just-woken voice saying: "Shh. C'mere. Soon." But what he can see is Emanek standing in front of him, dark hair sticking every which way, wrapped up in the blue-and-yellow-and-white quilt that Danicka bought before they all came.
The weight on the bed increases as Irena crawls in next to Danicka, and that's when Emanek hoists himself up on the bed and crawls unceremoniously over Lukas, inserting himself between blood-relative aunt and marriage-relative uncle, cuddling up on Danicka's other side. He, unlike Irena, does not take the hint that they should be a little quiet right now and patient, cuddle for a few minutes before trying to get the adults to get up and move. Both of the kids are trying to be still but something about them seems to all but vibrate with energy, movement, life. Right away, he's looking between the two of them, saying: "It's Christmas. We got up and we didn't open anything. But is it time to get up? We let Kando out. When is maminka coming? We're not going out to breakfast, are we?"
"Emanek, be quiet," Irena whispers to him, though they don't really need to whisper anymore since they've already managed to wake up the whole house. But Emanek quiets, and Danicka drowses with a child on either side of her, their bodies denting the comforter that lays over her and her mate. She rubs at her eyes, sniffing in the cold morning air, trying to get her brain going. Her head turns, going to the clock over Lukas's shoulder, catching the time. She smiles at him as she lays her head back down, one hand gently massaging Irena's scalp as she meets Lukas's eyes.
"It's about fifteen til eight," she murmurs to him. "Everyone'll be here pretty soon." A yawn overtakes her, and her eyes droop closed again, head turning toward Emanek's brow. He's trying so hard not to wiggle as she nuzzles his forehead. Their bed, which is just a queen size and is normally plenty of room for both of them, seems incredibly crowded right now. And warm. And happy.
LukasDisturbed from his rest, the sleeping wolf indeed continues to lie, even as one cub after another piles on. One flops down beside her aunt. The other squeezes himself between his aunt and uncle and, once situated, begins chattering. Lukas makes some indistinct grumbling noise, turns on his stomach, buries his face in the pillow for a while. Danicka, nuzzling, closes her eyes again. Under the covers, Lukas reaches under Emanek to throw his arm over Danicka's middle, mumbling that it's too early.
But it's not, really. It's nearly eight, and the others will be here soon. Plus, it's Christmas. So soon enough Lukas rouses himself, pushing himself up on his hands, yawning immensely as the cubs tumble off the bed and all but dance around in glee and impatience. Hurry, hurry, they want to open presents!
"Okay, okay," Lukas says, climbing out of bed. "Go on, go make cereal. We'll be down soon."
It's a promise. The kids tromp down the stairs, find their older siblings yawning in bed. And there's cereal again, and pastries, and milk. By the time Lukas tromps down, barechested in drawstring pants, his skin prickling with goosebumps as he goes for the heater, the kids are crunching away on breakfast, their eyes darting again and again toward the tree.
It seems to take an eternity for everyone else to get there. The grandparents show up first, along with Sarka, a little after eight-thirty. Anezka and Daniel don't show up until well after nine. By then everyone else is in the living room, the adults chatting over coffee, the kids all but sniffing the packages. As soon as Anezka is in the living room, she's all but tackled by Irena and Emanek. Irena adores her noisy aunt-in-law. Emanek -- well. It's possible he's just excited about the presents that are finally, finally going to be opened.
DanickaIf they weren't cubs, and cubs that are blood kin to his mate, Lukas probably wouldn't simply roll over and go back to sleep once his den was invaded. But they are cubs, and they are family pack to him, so he simply grumps and sleeps on for the few extra minutes he can manage while they wiggle and chatter and try so hard to be still and patient but it's been something like fifteen minutes already and they are about to explode. Danicka just cuddles with them, and Lukas disrupts Emanek utterly as he turns over, putting his arm under the kid to hold his mate. Emanek gives him a Look that Kandovany would be proud of and simply lies atop that arm defiantly, refusing to budge. She's his aunt, and he's certainly not going to cuddle with Lukas.
It's nearly eight, though, and the others will be here soon. Everyone agreed, and truth be told, the others had to get up earlier than Lukas and Danicka are. Danicka just dozes, and holds the little ones while Lukas finally yawns, pushing himself up and displacing Emanek again, who thumps down on the bed and grins. They can sense this means the grown-ups are getting going and can't keep still any more, crawling over Danicka. Irena tries to clamber onto Lukas's back while he's on all fours, but he drops his shoulder and she thumps back down on the bed next to her brother, laughing.
"Oh god," Danicka half-groans, rolling over and trying to smother the kids to quiet them. They laugh louder, and she grins at them as Lukas shoos them out, promising to be down soon. "Wait, wait -- no cereal. If Renata is up, see if she'll start coffee."
They tumble and dance and roll out of bed, blankets flying behind them as they rush out, no longer tiptoeing or trying to be quiet, thundering down the stairs. Milos and Renata are indeed up, sitting up in their beds and yawning, rubbing their faces, while Emanek and Irena chatter that it's time to make coffee, hurry, hurry, as though this will make the other grown-ups get their faster so they can open presents.
Danicka just swishes with some mouthwash and brushes her hair into a ponytail, pulling on flannel pajama pants and a long-sleeved shirt. Lukas is ahead of her, adjusting the heater while Renata makes coffee and Milos makes some toast and cuts some fruit to tide everyone over til the Big Breakfast after presents are opened. Danicka passes through the kitchen to eat some, and the kids are allowed to curl up on the couch with their slices of buttered toast and mugs of hot chocolate.
They move so much more slowly than the kids, even the teenagers. Milos is in lounge pants and a t-shirt, Renata in a set of pajamas similar to her aunt's. They're both reasonably disheveled, but it's Christmas. It's okay. They go into the living room to wait, too, tickling the little ones and trying not to spill anything.
Danicka pours her coffee and Lukas's, adds cream to her own, hands it to Lukas, who warms it in the microwave before pouring it into a bowl and calling Kandovany. It's Christmas, after all, and she bounds up the stairs again, dashing to the bowl of cream and lapping it up with her tail high and happy. Soon enough there's door knocks and Lukas saying he'll get it but Emanek is down there and Irena is right behind him, cramming into the entryway with the grandparents and their mama and Anezka and Daniel. It's early for Anezka and Daniel in particular, though they've adjusted a little to this time zone, but still: it's hard not to enjoy how gleeful the younger ones are to see them, all but shrieking and rushing everyone upstairs, oh please, please. It's just after eight and it feels like it's been hours, an eternity, forever.
Upstairs there are greetings, hugs, coats being draped over chairs instead of hung up. People are dressed casually -- Anezka didn't even bother with anymore more than pajama pants, herself -- and getting cups of coffee, slices of toast, gathering together in the living room in piles of blankets and bodies.
"Okay," Danicka says, seeing that the two youngest are going to start howling any moment, "go ahead, you two. If you find something for someone else, though, give it to them, okay?" She's chuckling, sitting between Lukas's legs on the floor, sipping her coffee.
There is no order to this. Just wild glee as Irena and Emanek go for the piles of gifts, checking tags and building up piles of their own while breaking occasionally to 'deliver' something to a grandparent or a relative. Laps begin filling up with everything from boxes to gift bags to cellophane-wrapped somethings, til the only practical thing is to start opening them, all at once, the room becoming a hurricane of paper and tissue and that one's from us! and oh, thank you!.
Most of the gifts from the Musil clan to the others are in those brightly-wrapped bags or tiny boxes, filled with candied and roasted nuts, carefully-wrapped kolaches, fudge, cookies, tiny muffins, everything they made when they took over the kitchen. Milos is a little anxious as people open them, but since no one has had breakfast yet, everyone has started eating the treats, and Marjeta is so impressed at Renata's baking, Irena and Emanek's wrapping jobs. Jaroslav is eating nuts by the handful, dropping them into his mouth and munching away.
Emanek crawls over by Lukas when he opens his, peering over his shoulder. "Danicka said those are your favorite," he said, when Lukas finds his little stack of candied orange kolaches that are...well. Not as neatly folded around the filling as Danicka's, but just as soft, just as sweet.
The kids, not surprisingly, have been given mostly toys. Emanek is just about swimming in Legos and art supplies, and every package he opens is met with an oh, wow! oh, wow! of overwhelmed joy. Irena is at that age where dolls don't do it for her anymore, but she has stacks of books and her sister gave her a little trio of lip glosses, and she has someone in mind she wants to play with for every game she rips open, nearly shrieking when she finds Apples to Apples Junior because my friends have this I wanted it so bad.
Renata was easy, too. Clothing abounds from her boxes, some of it bought just the other day while out shopping. She has some gift cards, too, particularly for music and places she likes to shop. Milos gets practical things from his mother: new jeans, sturdy and tough, new boots, stationery and stamps to write home with, and his siblings mostly give him books. Emanek, however, had other ideas, and Milos unrolls a poster-sized picture from his little brother that --
well, for an eight year old, it's very good. "That's you," Eman says, pointing to the figure in the middle, "and those are fomori," he goes on, pointing to a bunch of monster-looking figures who all have guns that are shooting bullets through the air, "and these are your spirit guys," he explains, to a bunch of cloud-like shapes floating around Milos on the poster, "and they're gonna stop the bullets and kill the bad guys with you."
Milos is tickled. He's grinning like he's trying not to laugh, staring at the picture. Emanek is pleased: "You can hang it in you cabin when you go back. I signed it." He points to his signature, too, which isn't in cursive yet because he hasn't learned. At least all the letters face the right way.
Some of the gifts are so tender: Irena obviously looked long and hard for that somewhat cheap necklace that has a sparkly 'R' pendant for her sister. The paper plane kit she got her brother and the juggling kit he got her are both from the bargain section of a bookstore, and she looks a little confused at how happy Milos is with the t-shirt she gives him for a band that even Danicka has never heard of, shrugging it off by saying: "Maminka said you would like it."
Renata recorded a CD of herself playing piano for her grandfather. In fact, most of the gifts given to Miloslav were handmade somehow, which is fitting: he seems touched by each one, as they pile up around his legs. Emanek drew things for everyone in his family, like a horse in a meadow for Renata, their house in the Czech Republic for his mother. He worked very, very hard on the poster he made for Danicka and Lukas, trying to make all the circles the same size. It's an entire cycle of the moon, from new to new, painstakingly hand-drawn.
"I went outside every day for a month," he says, hoping they appreciate his sacrifice.
Irena's gift to Danicka is similar, a copy of Harold and the Purple Crayon, because "He keeps looking for the moon that came in through his wondow," she says, "and you always were looking at the moon out our windows when you stayed with us."
Danicka's gifts to everyone are, of course, generally rather expensive. An e-reader for Daniel, a stack of Wii games for Anezka as well as a gift card to a well-known spa in LA. A fine new fountain pen for Jaroslav, a gold tie clip for her father, a white gold bracelet for Marjeta, all those clothes and gifts for Sarka and Renata, all those stacks of toys and games for the little ones, and a rather gorgeous knife for Milos with a black and ivory handle. "It's meant to be an athame," she says. "It's never been used to cut anything that's solid on this plane or in self-defense."
He turns it over in his hand, examining the light traveling up the blade. Emanek and Irena are wide-eyed. He smiles softly, looking over at Danicka. "Thank you," he says, like he understands something most of the people around them don't about this gift. She smiles back.
Of course from Danicka to Lukas there's a stack of gifts, but she restrained herself this year. There are some clothes for him, shirts she saw that she imagined on him. She got him an Android phone, because seriously, baby. And she kisses his cheek as he's opening it all, murmuring in his ear that there's more upstairs later, for his birthday. The truth is, her gifts to him are nothing too terribly special or shocking, just things he might like, things she wanted to give him.
Miloslav made things for people. Little things in his workshop. There's a tealight holder made of cherry wood for Daniel and Anezka, and a surprisingly thin letter box for Jaroslav out of walnut, a pair of earrings for Marjeta that are shockingly intricate, beads of oak polished to look almost like teardrop pearls, varnished to gleam. He even mentions, specifically to her: "They are oak. It is protective." His hands have not lost their delicacy with his tools. The children have toys, Renata a pendant in the shape of a heart, Milos a puzzlebox, Sarka a picture frame, Danicka and Lukas a perfectly smooth bowl for their kitchen. He is quietly, calmly pleased to see people's reactions, but he shakes off thank yous, merely watching them with his gifts.
Irena and Milos have held off giving their gifts to Lukas, not quite til the end, but while people are finishing up opening their presents, before they get to the candies and gift cards and mini-kits and the like that fill their stockings. Lukas has captured Kandovany and put her special collar on, the one with the bell shaped and painted to look like an orange, so she jingles everywhere she goes, rustling through the paper, sniffing at everything and everyone.
Milos gives his first, handing over the small wrapped box. Inside is a curious set of leather thongs, but they are polished and darkened, the sides stamped with glyphs. As Lukas looks them over, Milos says: "It's... a peace tie. For your family's sword. Um. It's not a fetish," he explains, as though this might lessen the impact, "because I don't know how yet. But when I do, I'll come back and make it so that when you wear this on your sword, spirits that typically won't deal with someone of your rage will find it easier to do so. I just thought... the longer you own it, the better it will work when I learn how to bless it."
Irena all but shoves her gift into Lukas's hands as soon as he's had a chance to react to the last one. "I didn't know what to get you so I asked my teacher what I should get my uncle because he's kinda my teacher too and she said that teachers like seeing that you learned so this is stuff I've already learned so you know." She's very serious, and a trifle nervous, but what he unwraps is a small leather-bound book, the pages unlined, and only about half are filled. The only thing on the first page is her name and a curious little glyph. It looks like the symbol for the harvest, but she's changed it to add elements of the glyph for 'duty' and also 'peace'.
"That's my glyph I made for me," she says, pointing to it. "Cuz I don't have a cub name and I don't have a name-name, but my name means peace and our family name means duty and Sabina says her sickle is in our family forever, so that's the symb-- I mean glyph that means me right now."
The other pages, as he turns them, show the other glyphs she knows. They're drawn with a fingertip in paint, and are a little wobbly and imperfect, but clearly carefully done. Some of the paint has smudged on other pages. She knows all the tribes and auspices so far. She knows the ones she showed him: duty. peace. harvest. She knows 'wyrm' and she knows 'fomori'. She knows a few for spirits, and for the various kinds of renown. Even the other kin in the room are peering at the book over Lukas's shoulder as he glances through it. Some pages just have notes in very slow, neat cursive describing a glyph and what it means or who taught it to her (mostly Milos or her mother). Some are whole journal entries (albeit brief, since she's ten) about what she thinks about being an Ahroun, and a Shadow Lord.
They aren't always very deep thoughts. I think it will be hard to learn everything, but also fun. I get tired of waiting, but my mother says I should enjoy just being a kid.
Sometimes they are. I do not always feel like a kid. I know I am different. It makes me sad and scared sometimes when I think about changing. I do not know if it will hurt. Milos says it did the first time for him, but some people it does not. I think I am very grown-up for ten, because I am an Ahroun like my father and he is not here to take care of us anymore. So I need to.
LukasThere are so many gifts. A hundred, Emanek thought earlier, and he's actually right. It's a family of twelve. Everyone got something for everyone else, and despite that, despite all the gifts crowding the tree, not a single one seems careless or unconsidered.
Lukas sees why the Musil kids took over the kitchen. There's so much food - baked goods and fruits and nuts coming out of boxes. He eats the candied orange kolaches with his usual voraciousness, and Emanek might be either delighted or shocked to see that his uncle eats nearly half the box before Danicka, laughing, takes them from him and kisses his cheek and tells him if he keeps it up he's going to barf again.
And meanwhile Emanek's moon poster comes out of its tube, and Lukas is very impressed - genuinely impressed - with the boy's artistic talent. After some discussion they hang the poster up on the bedroom door, and Lukas runs upstairs to do just that, coming down in time to hear Irena say
you always were looking at the moon out our window.
Which makes him ache a little, and swell with emotion. He drops down by Danicka and hugs her, kisses her firmly on the arch of her cheek while she's handing him his stack of gifts. The ache fades: he has a new phone! And shirts, several buttondowns, the sort he favors, plus a dark grey t-shirt with an interesting zip-collar. He pulls this one on, since he's still in sleepwear.
She tells him there's more later. Actually: she murmurs it in his ear. Which instantly arouses him, makes him worry that he might pitch a tent in his pajama bottoms, makes him turn toward her with a quirked smile - makes him catch her mouth with a light, quick kiss.
And meanwhile Marjeta is marveling at the delicate work Miloslav's hands have wrought, slipping on her new earrings while Jaroslav turns the letter box over in his hands. Anezka is telling Daniel that their tealight holder matches their chairs, so they should put it on the dining table when they get the new place, and this is actually the first Jaroslav has heard about this 'new place' that Anezka and Daniel are thinking about, and Marjeta is just a little scandalized because shouldn't they get married, first? And Anezka rolls her eyes and says marriage is for old-fashioned dweebs, which prompts Lukas to say Hey now, and
Daniel waves his gift in Anezka's face, successfully distracting her and deterring thermonuclear war between the siblings.
As unintentionally as her personality can be, Anezka's gifts show a generosity of spirit that borders on extravagance. Of her four giant suitcases, three were filled - absolutely stuffed - with gifts. The kids get Legos galore, of course. And books, modeling clay, a watercolor kit, a small telescope. Gifts for adults mostly fall in the category of 'toys' too. Sarka gets a pretty little sapphire pendant on a white gold chain, plus an amazon gift card because Anezka wasn't really sure what else to get. Jaroslav gets another digital camera, and when he protests that he already has the one she got him a few years ago, Anezka launches into a long explanation of why this one is far superior.
Daniel's gifts are simpler and - perhaps unexpectedly - a little quirky. Danicka and Lukas get matching t-shirts, which read TEAM LUNICKA. Lukas doesn't get it at first. And Milos gets a half-dozen Annoy-o-trons to plant around Stark Falls.
He gets Anezka a ring. And Renata's eyes are wide, thinking maybe this is a proposal - wouldn't that be ironic! - but no. It's just a ring, and Anezka slips it on and throws her arms around his neck, squeezing him. I love it!
Then there are the ones from Lukas's parents, which by and large are thoughtful, traditional. Marjeta gives Danicka a scarf, a pair of soft leather gloves, both predominantly white. Jaroslav gives Lukas ... a cookbook. There's a gleam of devilish humor in the elder Kvaniscka's eyes as he grimly explains that it is part of Lukas's husbandly duties to cook. Marjeta looks fairly sure that she's being gently mocked. And the children get more toys, and Daniel and Anezka get an ice cream maker they've wanted for a while, and Sarka gets a wool peacoat in camel.
Miloslav gets a set of lovely woodcarving tools. It's likely nothing he doesn't already have, but every piece is new, well-crafted, durable enough to last for years. "We remembered," Jaroslav explains, "that you were quite the craftsman."
"Are," Marjeta corrects, lifting the little letterbox, smiling.
Lukas's gifts are scattered with the others. Sooner or later Emanek finds the kick-scooter his uncle got him. Milos, perhaps in recognition of his slow passage from cub to Garou, from child to adult, gets a more serious, practical gift: a set of raw materials for talenmaking - gourds scraped clean, inks milled from plants and minerals, tiny glass vials, the like. Lukas clearly had no idea what to get Renata, though, and so the girl gets a 'makeup starter kit' from Macy's or Nordstrom or something.
For Irena, not a toy, either. A stone, smooth as an egg, warm to the touch. "I had the Ritemaster link a wolf-spirit to the stone," he explains. "It's not a Fetish, so the spirit is not bound, and you have no control over it. But it has agreed to share its consciousness with you until you've reach your First Change.
"It is a wolf," he says, "and it will run and hunt and howl. If you hold the stone while you sleep, you'll share its mind in your dreams. You can run with it and hunt with it and howl with it, live as it does. I know you're beginning to feel impatient for your Change, trapped in your single form. So ... maybe until you can change yourself, this will help sate that part of you that wants to be wild."
And more. As many gifts as they've already opened, there always seems to be more. There's Jaroslav's present for Danicka, dug out from under a large soft package that later on turns out to be a great big stuffed wolf from Marjeta to Irena - and compared to that Danicka's gift is very small, almost lost. When she opens it, it's a set of little bookmarks made of some light, filigreed metal. The gold-plated, delicately carved patterns are fanciful and abstract, feathers and waves and grass and leaves, one that calls to mind the scorching radiance of the sun, another a crescent like the moon.
"For studying," Jaroslav observes sternly, but Danicka is beginning to understand Jaroslav and the deep reserve of understated humor he holds in himself, and the truth is his gift this year is nothing practical, nothing pragmatic at all. It's simple whimsy, simply something lovely and exquisite that he thought his daughter-in-law might like.
"Now mine!" Anezka glees, passing a booksized box over. But it's not a book after all; it's a preorder of Mass Effect 3, plus a two-in-one pack of the earlier two games in case Danicka hasn't played them. "If you've already played them just make Lukas play them instead. But open the box," Anezka urges, "there's more."
And when Danicka opens the box, it turns out Anezka's real gift isn't a toy at all, isn't something consumerist. It turns out Anezka understands that Danicka can buy for herself whatever she wants, really, but that her relationship with Danicka can sometimes be strained by her, ahem, exuberance. So the real gift is just a little card, business card-sized, with a grid for ten punch-holes at the bottom. The card reads:
STFU ANEZKA TOKEN.
GOOD FOR TEN USES.
And everyone bursts into laughter because it's a joke, of course; she would be surprised if Danicka actually punched any of the holes. But the message beneath is simple enough, clear enough: if Danicka has had enough, she can simply tell Anezka to stfu. Because, after all, they're family.
Then there are more of Lukas's gifts. For Sarka, a little Kindle e-reader - just in case she finds herself with some free time on her hands despite all the kids. For Miloslav, one of those hammock-chairs that he can hang off the boughs of his oak tree or the rafters of his porch come spring. For Jaroslav, a set of beautiful pens, one fountain, one rollerball, heavy and smooth to the touch, carbon-black brushed steel accented in silver. "So you can write me more," Lukas says, smiling. And for his mother, an inexpensive but durable little netbook, complete with webcam. "So you can videochat me instead," he says, "if you're tired of writing."
All of it to stay closer in touch with his parents. All of it to strengthen the ties between them, so recently reforged.
For Anezka, then, something a little more whimsical: a heavy-duty stress-ball stamped with the names of top defense attorneys in the LA area. "So you can crush your foes," Lukas quips, because after three years of following a corporate law track, Anezka, in the last six months, suddenly decided to forgo the high paychecks and go for something a little more morally satisfying, and has now - to the dismay of some of her mentors - switched into criminal law and prosecution. "Here, this too."
- and he tosses her a wrapped book, which is, of course, The Art of War.
Later, it's pretty clear Lukas doesn't really know what to get Daniel, either. So Daniel ends up unwrapping a premium shaving kit - badger brush, straight razor and all. Daniel, who is happily a devotee of Norelco et al and not unreasonably a little wary of Lukas, doesn't quite seem to know what to make of a gift containing at least one potentially deadly weapon either. He thanks Lukas a little hesitantly; at least the sentiment counts, he thinks.
Kandovany gets gifts too: little treats shaped like fish, little booties that are soft and fluffy inside, waterproof outside, so she can go out in the snow. A little leash, orange of course, so they can take her for a walk in the snow. Nevermind that she'll probably hate being on a leash; Lukas doesn't want her to get lost or fall in a ditch or, heaven forbid, get run over on their quiet little street.
And then it's Danicka's turn. And they seem to have trouble sticking to just one present for each other, so she gets a multitude of little boxes. One is a necklace that matches the bracelet he bought her so long ago - a trinity of bands linked together at the clasp, one inscribed with delicate leaves and stems and shoots. "You have no idea," he says, smiling, "how long it took to find one that matched."
Out of another box comes fuzzy slippers, of all things - ridiculously cute soft things shaped not like bunnies but like cartoon foxes, the tail tucking around behind to keep the ankle and heel warm. And another box yields a sleek little transformer tablet because, let's face it, Danicka never uses her Mac anymore and her Vaio is huge and unportable.
Then there's a box, a little larger than a sheet of paper and flat, that Lukas instantly flushes at the sight of and claps his hand over before Danicka and open it. "That was supposed to be for later," he says. "Open it later. Upstairs. Somewhere else." And Anezka snorts to disguise a laugh, and Daniel looks a little mortified on Danicka's behalf - or perhaps on Lukas's - and the kids just look sort of confused. Well, the younger ones, anyway.
A car wash/handwax/detailing voucher, too. And last, a little FM broadcaster to plug into her phone so she can play music in the car.
Things are finally starting to wind down. The living room is strewn with wrapping paper and decorative tissue and gift bags. The two Garou cubs have waited until now to give Lukas their gifts, and Milos is the first to hand his over: a little hopeful, a little worried that Lukas might not like it. But Lukas likes it. He more than likes it. He is deeply appreciative, thinking of all those spirits that are frightened of him, thinking of how even the glass and water that shelters his mate and family-pack are wary of him when the moon is full. He touches the soft, inscribed leather knots carefully, as though a spirit already resided within, then looks at Milos with eyes as brilliantly blue as the boy's.
"D kuju," he says softly. "This means a lot to me."
And then Irena is handing him her gift as well, which like the rest of the children's is painstakingly handmade. Hers, he sees instantly, took her days, weeks, months - page after page of what she's learning, what she's learnt, what she feels, what she thinks. Tired of waiting, he reads, and it pangs in him. Sad and scared.
Lukas - journal still in hand - envelops Irena in a hug so big the little girl nearly vanishes.
Danicka[Edit earlier post so that Danicka got Jaroslav an embossed leather billfold! Which was my first idea anyway. ALSO EDIT SO THAT DANICKA GIVES EVERYONE IN FAMILY AN ORNAMENT LIKE THE ONES SHE GOT FOR HER AND LUKAS DURING THEIR FIRST CHRISTMAS, IN ALL THEIR MOON PHASES WITH THEIR NAME ON THE BACK BECAUSE I THOUGHT OF DOING THAT 10 TIMES AND KEPT FORGETTING]
It seems at points that the avalanche of presents will never end. Every time they think so, Emanek or Irena will find another one underneath the wrapping. Kandovany is nowhere to be found, but they can hear her jingling away, sniffing at everything. Miloslav is carefully rolling up the picture that Emanek made for him of some landscape far away, a river running alongside a vineyard. Renata is putting the hair clips she bought for her mother in Sarka's hair, a smiling, tender moment between them that speaks to how close they came to losing Sarka. That hair on her head is a triumph. Irena was quite pleased when Miloslav said he liked the suncatcher she bought for him, that it was Danicka and Sarka's idea.
Truth be told, most of the things Irena gave this year were someone else's idea. She clearly racked her brain for everyone and came up short, had to ask for advice. The only one that truly came easy to her was the little book for Danicka. Even the precious book for Lukas was not originally her idea. Nor was the 'S' necklace for her mother, since Milos said it was okay if maminka and Renata had sort-of matching ones. They wouldn't be upset that she didn't have better ideas, he promised. They'll love it because they love you.
Milos has a good heart. He asks Lukas's family if they like the treats, which Anezka is perhaps the most enthusiastic about answering in the affirmative. It relieves him. Jaroslav tells him that when he was a child, most gifts were like this: handmade, homemade, food that was special for this time of year. The boy is less embarrassed, even as he receives gifts from these painfully generous people who seem to want nothing in return from him yet shower his family with toys and fine things that they cannot return. Sarka, perhaps, shares her son's unease, but she covers it more gracefully. Truth be told, she's gotten to be friends with the Kvasnickas a little over this past year, and especially during this visit. They know her family's situation. They do not judge.
It was Milos who gave Emanek the oil pastel crayons and the enormous sheets of paper that made the boy's eyes bulge. He did not give Renata gift cards or clothes but a couple of books of sheet music for the piano. He gave Irena books, a stack of all the books her friends are reading, so that she can talk to them about them. The peace tie for Lukas. The book of puzzles and logic games for Miloslav. The yoga DVD for his mother. The 'list yourself' journal for Danicka. None of them are extravagant, but all of them are deeply thoughtful. Every single one of them is meant to nourish where there is weakness, or encourage where there is talent. In small ways, they speak of his faith in his family members, his desire to protect them. That's there even in the pleasure he takes to see the Kvasnickas, near-strangers to him, munching away on kolaches and fudge, roasted nuts, the things he helped to make with his hands.
Among the wildness of her siblings, the savage nature of two of them, the warmth and exuberance all around her and her relative... normalcy, Renata sometimes fades into the background. She is not as confident as any of them, nor as sure of herself. She's tender, and she's compassionate. She's too adult for a sixteen year old, given what they've been through, but she's only sixteen all the same. A part of her just wants these clothes, these shoes, that bag, a phone to text on, an iTunes gift card, and to be left alone. It's hard for her to open up, especially in this family where for so long she had to assume a parental sort of role. She doesn't quite know how to shift back to being the child. It isn't easy.
Also, Lukas doesn't really seem to like her. He tosses around the little ones and even gives manly side-hugs to Milos, hugs and kisses just about everyone in the house, but he barely comes near her and doesn't look at her and she's pretty sure it's because she's just... not as interesting to him as a fun little kid or two Garou children. In part that may be true. She has no clue that he realized that she noticed he was A Very Pretty man, and she'd be agonized with embarassment if she did know. There is no gift she can give him for Christmas that will tell him who she really is, because she's not entirely sure, and she doesn't want him to see her like his daughter, because her father is gone and she is not like Irena, she isn't confused about that. She doesn't share a Garou nature with him and can't give him a gift as meaningful as the ones from Milos or Irena.
Renata gives Lukas a gift card to a bookstore. It tells him nothing more about her than he already knows. What might mean anything is what she says as she hands it to him, semi-apologetic: "Danicka said you always have a book you're reading. I wanted to pick one, but I wasn't sure what you had, or... if you would like anything I like. I mostly read poetry."
Her gift to Danicka is a little more careful. it's a locket dangling from a keychain ring, but when opened, the locket unfolds into multiple ovals, room for plenty of photos of her ever-growing family. Danicka is delighted with it. All of her family with her, yet all of them hidden away, protected, secret. Perfect.
Sarka's gifts are, like the ones for her son, very practical. She bent and gave her two youngest toys and games, gave Renata money that was half to spend, half to save. Jaroslav's isn't the only cookbook given to the young married couple, because that is precisely what Sarka gives Danicka. It's more advanced, though, because she remembered Danicka said she wanted to learn things like braising and brining, which are mysteries to her. And for Lukas, a book of tips and tricks for around the home that are meant to save one money and prevent damage from weather and time. It even has a fold-out chart for regular preventative maintenance across the year.
"Co můžeš ud lat dnes, neodkládej na zítÅ™ek," she says, and Anezka is the one who translates for Daniel: "Don't put off til tomorrow what you can do today."
Lukas says hey now to Anezka's 'dweeb' comment, and Danicka just arches her eyebrows up at the other woman, the expression a clear excuse me?. Given that she was disinterested in marriage at first, even resistant, she's quite defensive of it. It's such a precious thing to Lukas, so important to him that it's become quite important to her, and of course
it's the fair-haired young man who defuses it all, and Danicka settles down, snuggling against Lukas and helping Emanek open up the packaging on one of his sets of Legos. Danicka laughs out loud at the t-shirts from Daniel, even though Lukas doesn't get it at first. She explains 'shipping' to him, the names that pop up like Sculder for X-Files and Harmony for the people who think Harry and Hermione both ended up with the wrong people. "Luuunicka", he says, over and over. "I know," she answers, "it sounds completely insane."
What she means is 'batshit crazy'. She doesn't say that around the kids, though.
Renata isn't the only one wondering if there's going to be a proposal there when Daniel busts out the jewelry. In fact, Danicka just blurts out: "I KNEW IT." Until it turns out, no, he's not getting down on one knee. She huffs and says: "Okay, I didn't know it. But wouldn't you just deserve it."
Milos is bewildered by the annoy-o-trons. Emanek and Irena, however, gleam with envy. Danicka kisses Marjeta's cheek for her gift, smiling at the second pair of gloves she's been given by the couple in two years, wondering to herself if it'll become a tradition. She ends up wondering it aloud, too, and Jaroslav intones quite seriously yes, until she has some of every color. Danicka throws up her hands with relief at the cookbook for her husband, though. "Thank god," she says, "I can't live on ham and cheese sandwiches and omelettes every time it's his turn to cook."
They don't really take turns cooking. It's a joke. But they all laugh, are laughing so much this morning. Emanek begs and pleads until the grown-ups agree to let him tear off on his kick-scooter up and down the hall. Irena is disgruntled as all hell until Danicka frowns, digging under the couch. "What's this? How'd that get under there?" and checks the tag, seeing her niece's name on it. "You'd better open it," she tells Irena, passing the heavy box along.
Back at the toy store, when Lukas found the scooter for Emanek, neither of them could stomach the idea of Irena not getting one, too. So there it is, electric blue like Eman's is neon green, and she's already saying she's got stickers at home she's going to put on it and they are both wobbling on the carpet, trying not to wipe out up and down the hall. The wheels barely work on the carpet. They don't care. They crack up, nearly crash into each other, laugh some more. Meanwhile, Milos is smiling at his materials and his knife, very Theurgely gifts, packing everything away as carefully as he can. He puts them in the puzzle box. Smiles at it. Stares at it, smiling, for some time.
"Oh, Jaroslav," Danicka murmurs at the bookmarks, touched. "They're so pretty." She's never going to use these for studying. He says so and she just quirks a brow at him, half-smiling, as though saying really?. Can't pull one over on her.
One can shove boxes into her lap, though, a la Anezka, and that gets a huff of laughter from Danicka as she gently sets the bookmarks down and
lets out a shriek that says just how appropriate the computer game is (or will be). "Oh my god," she says, finding the other two in the box. "I have heard so much about this f--antastic game." But wait, that's not all. The card makes her laugh out loud, clapping a hand over her mouth. She can't explain it, so she shows it to Lukas, who also laughs, and is reading it rather than saying it aloud to anyone as Danicka gets up to hug her sister-in-law.
She's most definitely going to use the punch card. Wait and see. But the message, whether joking or not, whether used or not, is the same, and appreciated. She glomps on to Anezka, squeezing her before returning to her own space.
The kids are obsessed with Sarka's new e-reader, and Miloslav needs some help from Lukas figuring out what his hammock-chair is at first, then he just says: "Oh! Oh!" as he turns it over in his hands, curious and intrigued.
Kandovany does not open gifts, so Danicka opens those for her. The treats get the cat's attention, and she presses her paws on Lukas's leg while he feeds her a few, her whiskers twitching. Danicka is as uneasy about the leash as she is about the collar, but Lukas so badly wants to take her out without putting her in a kennel, let her run around the yard without chancing her running off. It's very long, long enough that they could hold the end while sitting on the porch and let her bound around the back yard, which she's never done before. Everything in there is about giving her some more freedom, as much as it terrifies Danicka and upsets her to have to bind the cat in some way.
She holds the cat on her lap for awhile, stroking her, murmuring to her affectionately while her pet stretches out, arching its back in plesure. She's wearing the necklace Lukas gave her, which does not match her pajamas at all, but no matter. Most of them are now wearing something that they received, one way or another. Danicka also has on her slippers, and is playing with her tablet with her free hand, her eyes alight with intrigue.
At the mistake gift that was not supposed to be opened, she just shakes her head, grinning at him, and Milos and Renata are pointedly paying attention to anything but the two of them. Renata is, in fact, putting a little bit of lip gloss on Irena's mouth, and Irena is trying to hold very very still for his, her head tipped back a bit.
When Lukas calls her over to receive her gift, though, she darts away, getting a smear of pink across her cheek that she just rubs at with the back of her hand, smearing it further. She looks messy when he gives her the box, which is quite heavy, and she removes the stone. They can hear the intake of breath from Milos, as though he already senses what's inside of it. Irena does not. She frowns at it, holding it.
"It's warm," she says aloud, for those who can't touch it.
And Lukas tells her what it is, her eyes turning up from the stone to look seriously at him, absorbing the information he has to pass along. Slowly her eyes widen a bit, then seem brighter. She doesn't know what 'sate' means, but she can intuit it. This is supposed to help. And she can run and hunt and howl. Irena sniffs, and does not cry, but she crawls over, clutching her stone, and gives Lukas a tight hug, kissing his cheek
and leaving a bright pink smear there, of course. "Mockrát tak vám d kuji, strý
ku," she says, sniffing one more time and then going and digging around til she finds her gift for him.
Things have, indeed, wound down. Enough for these rather serious, almost ritualistic exchanges between Garou and patron, cub and mentor. Milos watches the way Lukas touches the knots and smiles softly to himself, nodding in answer to the thanks. And then there's the journal, which Lukas pores over, realizing just how vital his gift is to the girl, how wanted. He hugs her, holding the journal, and she smiles, perking, because he likes it! And it isn't stupid.
Danicka smiles at them, rubbing Kando behind the ears and smiling over at Sarka. "There's one more," she says, though there's not a single thing left under the tree. And Lukas, who she worked this out with before, knows it's time for the Big Surprise.
"I hired a photographer," Danicka explains to everyone, "who's coming tomorrow. That's how Katherine got the idea for all the cashmere -- she was hoping we would wear whatever she gave us for the pictures, so we all have a little bit of red or white or black on. We'll take some outside, and some inside -- he's going to be here for a long time, actually. So we can get some of all of us together, and individuals, and couples, and just the Musils or just the Kvasnickas, or... pretty much any combination we all want. Then we can all go online and choose the prints and everything that we want, so... we'll all have portraits from this visit."
She smiles, not looking around the room at people but just watching her cat. "I think if we ever get a fireplace in here, a big picture of all of us together will look very nice over the mantle."
LukasCompared to her self-possessed Garou brother, her noisy little brother, and her feral little sister, Renata does indeed sometimes fade into the background. She thinks maybe this is why Lukas doesn't seem to like her as much, but this isn't true. Actually, Lukas likes Renata quite a bit. He respects that she was both mother and sister to her siblings for so long. He likes that sometimes she can see a hint of Danicka's nature in Renata - that secretiveness, the sense that she holds her family close to her heart. He likes that the girl is sweet of nature, tender of heart, but despite all that, he stays away from her
because of what he saw in her eyes once, a year or so ago, the first time he came to their door.
This is because Lukas is careful, and Lukas doesn't want to Cause Drama, and Lukas certainly doesn't want to cause trouble for anyone. But in a way, this too is a form of protection for his extended family-pack. Most of all, he doesn't want Renata herself to get hurt. And even though this precaution is obsolete now, is no longer necessary as Renata grows up and returns to being a teenager at the same time, as she finds her footing and her own place in the world -- well. Lukas is careful. And Lukas is, sometimes, a worrywart.
For all that, Lukas does not shy away when Renata brings him her gift. He looks right at her, his eyes warm, and when she gives him the giftcard and explains why it isn't a book, his smile is warm as well. "Thank you, Renka," he says. She likes poetry, she says, and this is one more piece of information about his quiet niece that Lukas didn't have before. So they talk about that for a while - about Eliot and Yeats, Williams and Crane, Dickinson, Burns, Dante, Milton. Later on, she finds out that he likes pretty much any genre of written word, fiction or nonfiction. "It just has to be written well," he says.
Next year, he'll get her a book of poetry. And she'll get him something written well, with tight, sharp prose that stays on-key from beginning to end.
Toward the end, when all the gifts have been opened and much of the snacks have been devoured, Danicka says she has one more surprise. And Lukas, knowing what's coming, knowing why there are so many matching cashmere sweaters, smiles. He's leaning against the couch, sitting on the floor, and his arm is draped loosely over his mate's shoulders. She tells them that she's hired a photographer. Her eyes are on Kando, who she's stroking very gently, and she's smiling like she's holding some secret happiness, some fragile hope close to her heart. He hugs her against his side and kisses her temple, and in truth some of the littler children are sighing at the prospect of picture day, but Anezka is excited and the grandparents look touched, and Milos is thinking about how nice it would be to have a picture of his family with him when he goes back to Stark Falls.
"We should do one on top of the van, too," Lukas suggests. "Just to commemorate the Kvaniscka-Musil party bus."
It's nearly eleven am, they realize. No one's really hungry, though, and there are no plans to go anywhere today. Emanek and Irena want to go ride their new kick-scooters around the frozen sidewalks, and Lukas is dubious of the idea, but Daniel says he'll go watch them and make sure they don't break their heads open. Anezka says she's go too, but she's actually going out to build a snowman. Everyone else helps clean up the chaos of wrapping paper, but no one's really in a hurry about it, and while wrappers and boxes are rustling into recycling bags Lukas plugs his new phone into a set of desktop speaks and streams some instrumental carols off of Pandora. They leave the tree lit, glowing softly amidst quiet music and familial conversation, rustling paper, the distant laughter of the kids.
Poetry, then. Renata brightens with interest. She likes Dickinson, she's never read Dante or Milton, she likes Eliot and Yeats, she's never even heard of Rumi. He tells her about the book he got for Danicka early, early on: Sharp Teeth. Danicka says that Renata can borrow it if she likes; Lukas says he'll just send her a copy of her own. And next year, yes: a book of poetry for Renata, a collection of various writers. She'll send him a novella, something too short to be marketable in this day and age, a Dover Thrift copy of something by Dostoyevsky.
It turns out to be possible that she's more literary than her aunt, has very high standards of what she considers 'written well', though she will peruse just about anything. It turns out that she is not interested in written romances, which is her own hardness that life gave her: she has more illusions than Danicka did when he met her, but not nearly as many as other girls her age.
She's one of them now, though: his nieces and nephews. The quiet kinswoman who plays piano and reads poetry and bakes but knows better than to trust books and movies that tell her what love is really about. The slightly anxious, protective, nurturing young Theurge whose bright eyes take on a fierce power when he turns them on the spirit world. The sometimes emotionally confused, energetic will-be Ahroun who, like his sister, sometimes goes a little overboard without meaning to. The noisy, perceptive, artistic, willful little boy who refuses to be cowed even by wolves. Not his by blood, but his in spirit, every one of them.
The kids, most certainly, are a little ugggh about picture day, but Danicka says they don't have to really dress up, she just wants everyone to be comfortable and look like themselves. The items from Katherine are the only attempt at 'matching' in some way, and there will be time for them to take breaks. Certainly there will be photos of Danick and Lukas, Danicka and Lukas with Kando, Danicka and her father, Danicka and her father and Sarka and the kids, just the kids, the Kvasnickas and Anezka and Lukas, the Kvasnickas with Daniel and Danicka added in...
the photographer is going to be here awhile. If there is a combination possible, it's likely Danicka will want a picture of it taken. That's tomorrow, though. Lukas suggests a picture on top of the van and, with a brief glance at the grandparents, Danicka says NO. She finds she is in stereo with Marjeta, and they both laugh, even as Lukas's face pulls in a disgruntled frown.
"In front of it," Danicka says to him, leaning over to give him a kiss on the cheek. "Maybe the kids on top."
The kids are fully in favor of this. That ladder on the back doors of the van has tempted them from day one.
Actually, a few of them are really hungry. Not Lukas, belly full of kolaches, but the half of the family that waited til coming over to eat or did not receive roasted nuts as presents are quite in favor of breakfast. Irena and Emanek plead to go outside on their scooters, and Anezka and Daniel go with them. It takes time to get them all bundled up to go outside, in snow pants and scarves and the lot this time, but then the two little ones dart outside, scooters clanging against the stairs because they don't know how to fold them yet.
Upstairs, Lukas fiddles with his speakers and his new phone, gleefully adding apps and entering contact information as music plays. They lazily clean up, while Milos and Renata go with Sarka to cook breakfast. They make french toast out of thick slices of bread and cook eggs and make patties out of the ground sausage that Lukas bought. Danicka lounges on the floor playing with Kando and one of her new toys, a bouncy ball stuck with a few feathers and an elastic band while the older adults talk, drinking some more coffee or tea.
Outside, Daniel scrapes more of the sidewalk clean with the shovel from the garage. Anezka shrieks as he topples her into a snowbank. There's a holler of put those inside! when the kids get tired of slipping on the icy concrete and decide to go romp in the snow as well. Danicka goes to the front of the house and sees through the window that Eman and Irena's friends from the first day have come back, with a few more. One kid has brought a sled he got this morning and, lacking a nearby hill, they grab the shovel and begin piling snow up to form a little incline to sled down on.
Inside, appetites begin to rouse again as the scent of maple sausage and french toast fill the air. It's lunchtime, in truth, but it still feels like bright and early morning when Danicka wraps Lukas's bathrobe around herself and goes down to call the kids in to eat, promising they can come out again later, which they inevitably will.
Breakfast itself is eaten any which where. They do gather mostly around the table, but people are getting up and down all through the meal, Irena and Eman have dragged their chairs in to the main dining room. There is no need to enforce the no-toys-at-the-table rule because when Emanek is done he just scoots out the door to go play with his Legos again in the living room. He is building a gigantic RV and is convinced he can roll it across the coffee table no matter how tall it gets.
Danicka actually sits in Lukas's lap near the end of breakfast, sipping coffee and taking a few bites of his eggs now that her own plate is empty and he has finished most of his second serving. Music is still playing in the next room, and the adults are talking. The kids yell that they're going outside again, which is fine, because right now, all seems right. They know for a fact that Lukas and Milos could track down Irena and Emanek from across the city, even in the icy cold, solely by scent. They know that the kids know better than to go too far. They know that for the most part, the new kids who are from the Czech Republic who will be gone after another two days are a far bigger draw, and most of the neighborhood children come to them rather than the other way around.
She lazes back against Lukas's shoulder, and after a few moments it becomes clear that most of the adults are quiet because they are just... listening to the children outside.
"That's such a nice sound," Danicka murmurs, without thinking.
Lukas"Mm," Lukas agrees, a murmur of assent. There's still a bit of food left on his plate, but for once he's too full to finish; too full nto even think of urging Danicka to eat more, more, have some, mate, be full.
She's sitting on his lap, leaning against his chest and shoulder: a warm weight against him. His arm is loose around her waist. He tries not to nuzzle her because neither of them are That Couple with the embarrassing PDAs, and also because - well. He just ate a heavy late-breakfast of french toast and eggs and sausage. He's pretty sure, napkin or not, his mouth is greasy.
"It's nice," he adds after a while, "to have a day in. We should roast some marshmallows tonight after dinner. And maybe camp in the living room. Tell stories."
DanickaEven when Danicka moved to Lukas's lap, Anezka totally made fun of them. Danicka just scoffed, telling her not to mind them, they were just being old-fashioned dweebs. Lukas won't nuzzle her, though, because his mouth is probably greasy and even amongst family they really aren't all that big into broadcasting their affection.
Earlier he was so embarassed by that 'secret' Christmas gift, even though everyone who knew anything already knew what was probably in it. Earlier, when she went up to get his bathrobe to wear around, she'd taken the box quietly upstairs and placed it on the bed. They are still quite private about their feelings for each other. It means something -- it means a lot -- that with their family-pack around them, they're even this unabashed. Family-pack is different from spirit-pack. Danicka is a part of the family-pack. What they share with these people, they both have equal say in. It isn't the same with the Unbroken.
Danicka blinks, frowning in confusion. She twists, looking at Lukas. "Where, exactly, are we going to be roasting these marshmallows?"
LukasLukas's laugh is low and gentle, as it often is. Strong as he is, ferocious as he can be, Lukas is at heart a gentle wolf, warm toward his family, fond of his loved ones. He wraps his arms around Danicka's waist and nuzzles her after all, drawing back to smile at her a moment later.
"See, this is why we should have a fireplace. But until then, we can probably just stack some wood in the charcoal grill." A pause; then a glint of mischief. "I got marshmallows the other night. And graham crackers. And I'm pretty sure we still have chocolate somewhere. Not that I planned S'mores Night or anything."
"Oh, of course not," Anezka scoffs. "I swear, when you have kids, they're going to be spoiled little shits if you have your way."
"Oh," Marjeta is delighted, "is it 'when' now?"
"Just wait til you hear how many Danicka wants," Lukas replies, wry.
DanickaGiven how long it took them to understand each other -- no. Given how long it took them each to truly understand themselves, and be willing to share that with someone else, it's no wonder that originally, Danicka had no idea how much family meant to Lukas, how badly he might want children, how much he missed his own parents and sister. Nor would he, or anyone else for that matter, have imagined her getting married, settling into a house, and declaring that her intention was four kids, give or take. This house full of relatives would have frightened and bewildered both of them, just a few years ago, had they been granted a vision of it. Disgusted them: I know better. I can't ever have that.
It was a long time before either of them would admit they might want it, even if they didn't think they could have it. But here it is, and not without effort, not without a great deal of time and risk. She thinks of how quiet it's going to be in a couple of days when they all go home, how empty the yard will be without the child-sized angels in the snow, how small their cars will seem after that ridiculous van.
"I am fully behind the fireplace idea," Danicka tells him mildly, "I just think we should get a contractor for that one." She tips her head with the nuzzling, letting him rub himself against her skin like he's marking her, or sniffing out something hidden deep inside. "Yes, baby," she says, as he gleefully reveals the s'mores fixings he bought, as she turns her head to smile at him, "I have seen what your little trip to the store the other day wrought."
Anezka is eyerolling, and Danicka grins to see it. She mentions spoiled little shits and Danicka's eyes pop, an "I know!" coming out of her mouth, like someone else finally gets it. Marjeta, however, zeroes in, gleefully echoing the word 'when'. Lukas wryly mentions 'how many' and Danicka lifts up her hands. "Hey, now. It was always 'when', be fair. And also, what is this about how many I want?" she goes on, twisting around to pin Lukas with her eyes once more. "You're the one who all but squealed when I told you.
"Squealed," she repeats immediately, turning toward Anezka as her hands fall. "Like a grown man about to watch his favorite episode of My Little Pony."
LukasSquealed, Danicka says.
"I did not - " Lukas protests, but then she's turning to say it to Anezka: squealed!
And by now the kids are laughing, and Lukas is just grinning, holding four fingers up in mute indication of just how many Danicka wants.
"Four?" Shockingly, Marjeta is the one to say this. "Oh, that might be exhausting."
"Yeah," Anezka scoffs, "if they were spoiled little shits."
"She said a bad word!" Irena whispers, awed.
"She said it twice," Lukas replies dryly, quirking eyebrows at Anezka.
DanickaThere is tromping up the stairs as the kids do come back inside, shedding snowy clothes and showing red noses as they climb back into the dining room, immediately going for the food regardless of the attitudes or conversation of the adults. In fact, Irena is only truly noticed when she says, aghast, that Anezka swore in front of her. Danicka is busy shoving Lukas's hand down when he holds up four fingers.
"Oh yes," Sarka is saying dryly, "four is so many," with a grin, her chin on her hand even as Emanek clambers into a seat next to her and searches for more fried potatoes to scrape into his plate.
"I handled a Silver Fang brat," Danicka claims, "I can handle four miniature Lords. Also, Lukas squealed when I said four, so this isn't all on me. I think if I said I wanted six he'd go into a coma from sheer euphoria." She doesn't chastise Anezka for language, nor does Sarka, partly because Irena already knows that if she chose to repeat her uncle's sister's words she'd likely get a quick smack -- for disrespect.
That is what makes the difference. Not the words, not the meaningless, empty words, but the intention. Whether something is said in defiance or disrespect and not simple thoughtlessness. Emanek doesn't know the difference quite yet -- it's entirely possible that he might throw 'shits' around just because Anezka sounded so Grown Up when she said it. But Irena? She knows where the line really is. What the line is really about. She points at some sausage -- the remains of Lukas's third helping -- on his plate. "Can I have that?"
Meanwhile, Danicka is looking at Anezka, lifting her brows. "What about you? So far as things stand now, do you think you want any?" It's not meant as a prod, as a poke, even as a deflection: simply, if the future of her uterus is under discussion, then Anezka's is surely fair game as well. And also: she is curious. Anezka's never mentioned it. Daniel has never mentioned it. Clearly marriage is not a necessary precursor for this generation, so barring that. She even adds: "I don't mean to pry, I just... figure that if you're going to get a house together, it's something you've at least talked about. And if I have to carry the next generation on my lonesome, I'd like to at least have a heads up."
She smiles.
LukasAnezka, looking wholly unrepentant for her language, claps her fingers over her mouth in an exaggerated gesture of oops! This gets another torrent of giggles from Irena, who, at least, is wise enough not to mimic her foul-mouthed aunt-in-law.
"You know," Anezka redirects toward Danicka, reaching a long arm out to snag her coffee off the table, "I don't really want kids. I mean, I love hanging out with them when they aren't mine, but I don't really want to deal with the diapers and the 2am feedings, y'know? Plus it's not like I can sit in a courtroom with a breast pump. Or an infant."
Marjeta looks aghast. Daniel looks - well, a little sad, really. "I always figured we'd have one or two," he says.
Anezka slurps at her coffee. "Well, baby, as soon as you figure out how to carry a fetus, deliver a baby, and lactate, we can get right on that." And she beams at her rather softspoken boyfriend.
Lukas, meanwhile, nudges his plate toward Irena. Yes, she can have a bit of his sausage.
DanickaNo, apparently this isn't something the two of them have talked about in the year-plus they've been together, or while thinking about getting a house together, or doing an enormous family Christmas the likes of which absorbs Daniel into a large and varied family group. Danicka's frown is mild enough that, if this were not family and if he did not know her, Lukas might see as vaguely disinterested, even naive, completely unaware of the deeper currents between people. Once upon a time, she could fake it so well.
She still can. He just knows her better.
Irena picks up a fork and spears some of Lukas's leftover sausage, dipping it in maple syrup and taking full-mouthed but otherwise rather tidy bites, filling up once again on meat after running around like a maniac outside yet again. It is very cold. Down the table, Emanek is focusing on pouring himself some more milk. On Lukas's lap, Danicka gives a small shrug and a faint smile to Daniel. "You can always come play with ours," she says, but she knows
it's nothing near the same. Just like as much as Lukas adores his niece, as much as a part of him truly does not mind nurturing her and protecting her and teaching her and comforting her as a father would, it isn't the same. Not for Irena, for whom no father figure is ever going to quite cut the mustard, and not for Lukas, who needs nothing but a sniff of her hair to know
not mine. not really. not my cub.
Danicka yawns, giving a little stretch. "I think I'm going to head upstairs and take a shower." She twists, kissing Lukas's temple, and eases off of his lap, wrapping his robe around herself again.
LukasAnezka, looking wholly unrepentant for her language, claps her fingers over her mouth in an exaggerated gesture of oops! This gets another torrent of giggles from Irena, who, at least, is wise enough not to mimic her foul-mouthed aunt-in-law.
"You know," Anezka redirects toward Danicka, reaching a long arm out to snag her coffee off the table, "I don't really want kids. I mean, I love hanging out with them when they aren't mine, but I don't really want to deal with the diapers and the 2am feedings, y'know? Plus it's not like I can sit in a courtroom with a breast pump. Or an infant."
Marjeta looks aghast. Daniel looks - well, a little sad, really. "I always figured we'd have one or two," he says.
Anezka slurps at her coffee. "Well, baby, as soon as you figure out how to carry a fetus, deliver a baby, and lactate, we can get right on that." And she beams at her rather softspoken boyfriend.
Lukas, meanwhile, nudges his plate toward Irena. Yes, she can have a bit of his sausage.
Lukas"I'll be up in a bit," Lukas says, and damn what everyone else might think of a promise like that - or what it might imply.
He doesn't follow his mate immediately, though. Lukas stays downstairs, and Irena and Emanek refuel off the remains of brunch, and when they head out again the older kids go with them. Sarka says she'll put the dishes in the washer - it's her turn, it really is - but of course Daniel says he'll help. The older generation lapse into a conversation in Czech, which just leaves the Kvasnicka siblings. And after a moment Lukas gets up, saying he should water the magnolia, and why doesn't Anezka help?
That's how they end up talking over in the living room, in Czech, about kids. Not that Lukas tries to dissuade Anezka - but he does say, quietly, that she should talk to Daniel about it. Because Daniel seems to want kids, and it seems important to him, and if this is going to be a problem between them, better to know now than later.
"I know," Anezka says, a touch irritated. "I'll talk to him. Maybe after we're back in LA though. I wouldn't want to Ruin Christmas."
Lukas lets it go. He goes upstairs, and the water is still running in the shower, so he strips off his clothes and calls through the curtain. When he steps into that warm fragrant place, he smiles at Danicka - just a little rueful - as he steps into her, wraps his arms around her.
DanickaNo one, it seems, gives a damn either if Lukas showers with Danicka. She heads upstairs, while Sarka and Daniel clean up the table and load the dishwasher. While the grandparents chat, then move to the living room, and chat some more, until Miloslav dozes off on the corner of the couch. While the two younger kids convince the two older kids to come out and play with them, which is inevitably going to end in a fistfight to beat all others. Upstairs the water turns on, and Lukas talks quietly to Anezka under other conversations.
It makes sense that she's a little irritated, just as it makes sense that Danicka felt a touch embarrassed about bringing it up. Not a terrible amount of time has passed, so when Lukas gets upstairs, Danicka is still in the shower, not rushing it today. She smiles at him, her eyes closed to ward off spray, when he comes in with her. He holds her, his skin still semi-dry, and she rests her back to his front, breathing in and exhaling a warm, low sound of comfort. Even in hot water, he feels warm to her. A different kind of warm. A better kind of warm.
"Was Anezka mad I mentioned kids?" she asks after awhile, drowsy with all that relaxing warmth, the water still rushing down on her breasts, her stomach, washing down her legs. She sounds -- not rueful, but a little worried, because it seemed like she and Anezka were in that spot where they actually get along, rather than the spot where they annoy and simply do not get each other.
There's only a beat before she adds, just in case he gets any funny ideas, her voice taking on a firm, rule-making tone: "We are not having sex in the shower with everyone downstairs and the kids showering after us, so just... keep that in mind."
Lukas[Note for later: DLP on my post 3 posts up!]
There's a sort of comfort and warmth in stepping into a shower and wrapping his arms around his mate, and it's one that has nothing to do with the temperature or pressure of the water. Something deeper than that, and better. Lukas nuzzles Danicka gently, kissing her wet temple, her cheek.
Her eyes are closed, so she can't see his smile. He whispers in her ear, "Hello." And they just stand there for a while.
Eventually she asks - was Anezka upset? And on the tail of that, an admonition: no funny business, mister. Which makes Lukas laugh, but was perhaps appropriately timed, as his hands were starting to stroke up her front. And the way he was nuzzling her was starting to feel a little less idle, a little more purposeful.
He relents, though, kissing her brow again close to the trailing end of her eyebrow. "Okay," he murmurs. And then Lukas shakes his head, his arms loose around her waist, one hand clasping the other wrist. She can feel the slow rise and fall of his chest, the thump of his heart, the shake of his head. "I really don't think she cares much about kids," he says. "She was kinda mad when I said maybe she should talk to Dan about it, though. I think she already knew, so when I said it, I was sort of rubbing her nose in it.
"I wouldn't worry about it though," he adds. "They'll work it out amongst themselves. I probably shouldn't even have said anything at all."
DanickaAs soon as he said he'd be up after her, Danicka knew that Lukas was going to step into the shower and want to touch her. She even entertained the thought for awhile at first, stroking herself between her legs lazily and idly, thinking about Thanksgiving last year, upstairs in his old room, while everyone hung out downstairs. Except:
that wasn't her father downstairs, and there weren't any kids. Which brought her out of it, making her blink and stop playing with herself and decide no no no no no, if Lukas came up here with any intention of hoisting her up against the tiled wall, he had another thing coming.
So of course he begins to nuzzle her, touching her stomach, running his hands upward slowly like they're moving of their own accord, about to cup her breasts and feel the hot water trickling between her flesh and his palms. And she huffs a laugh as she warns him off: none of that now. Not right now, at least.
She nuzzles him back, though, eyes closed still, kissing the side of his neck as her head twists around. She would whisper that she loves him but it's there in the gesture, there in the warmth between them that has nothing to do with the furnace in the basement or the liquid pumped out by their water heater.
"You didn't bring it up," she says, absolving him. "I think you're right though -- that she already knew. In which case... of course she'd be grumpy, you then advising her to do what she probably already should have done." Her lips are downcast, thoughtful as much as anything else. "It makes me a little sad for Daniel, though. Worried for them. They just... seem so good together. But she obviously shouldn't have to have kids if she doesn't want them. It's just that he shouldn't have to give something like that up if it's what he wants, either. I want them to work it out, but not by one person having to make some huge sacrifice."
She mulls on it, the sort of compassion that ...well, to be honest, she isn't known for because it is something almost never extended. Danicka has felt so cold, most of her life, so capable of manipulating others into whatever shape or form she might want, lying, even insulting, walking away without concern. Family is different, though. What's at home counts. Anezka and Daniel have, somewhere along the line, both become something that is At Home for Danicka. So it matters. So she cares.
It does not, however, drag her into some sort of obsessive tailspin. She sighs, and arches her back against Lukas, stretching out. "I should dry off and get dressed. I have some stuff to do downstairs." She turns, wrapping her arms around his neck and smiling at him. "You get really really clean, okay? I think the kids want you to come out and play with them awhile."
Lukas"They are good together," Lukas replies quietly. This might be the first time he's admitted this aloud. "I hope they work it out, too."
But ultimately, that's not their problem. Not really even their business. So they move on, and Danicka starts getting ready to get out of the shower, and Lukas winds her back against his body and nuzzles her neck, kisses her shoulder. "Mate," he muffles, teeth setting gently to her flesh for a moment. Then, finally, and rather unwillingly - letting her go, letting her rinse herself one more time and then step out of the shower.
She has a glimpse of him smiling at her, half-wet, before she whisks the curtain shut again and he sticks his head under the spray.
Five, ten minutes later, Lukas is coming back down the stairs, dressed for the day. His jeans are well-worn and durable, his sweater a thin-knit turtleneck that he pulls a coat over. So then of course Anezka wants to know where he's going. "Out," Lukas replies, "to play with the kids. Wanna come?"
For once, Anezka says she'd rather stay in and chill with Daniel and the rest of the family. But Danicka says she'll come out in a bit, so Lukas heads out and by the time she follows the kids from the block are in the middle of an epic snowball fight while Lukas and Renata pile snow together for snowmen.
They stay out most the afternoon. After an hour or three the kids from the block are called home one by one. There are Christmas dinners to go to, Christmas parties to attend. Besides, it gets dark early in Chicago. But the Musil kids don't seem to want to go in yet, even though they're all worn out from pelting each other with snowballs, and after a while Lukas asks if they want to go for a walk in the little woods near the den.
So that's what they do: a miniature flock of Shadow Lords and kin, most of them juvenile, the littlest ones in so many layers their arms stick out a bit from their sides. Down the street they go, and across the boulevard, down a snowy path beneath leafless trees, past a sign that proclaims this land preserved in the name of Cook County. They only follow the trail a little while, and then Lukas seems to follow some invisible sign of his own into the woods, out of sight and sound of civilization, to the edge of a narrow brook feeding into the Des Plaines river.
"I hunt here sometimes," he tells the children. Of all of them, Irena seems to understand this most readily, without need for explanation or elaboration. "And I drink here." He looks at Danicka, smiling a little. "The water from our fountain came from this little creek."
Renata finds deer tracks in the snow. Milos mentions he saw some around the side of the den, and Emanek, bigeyed, wants to know if Lukas ate that deer.
"No," his uncle replies, scooping him up sideways under his arm, "that was a guest deer. It would have been rude."
And this, Milos seems to understand utterly.
DanickaThis is one of the first times they've ever spoken aloud of their thoughts on Lukas's sister's relationship, at least to each other. Lukas had made it quite clear to his parents that he didn't want Anezka mated to a Shadow Lord, even one of low rage. Nevermind that in the end he exerted no influence over who she went for. Nevermind that when he met Daniel he'd bristled, finding a strange male in his family's den. Daniel is okay now. Daniel is allowed in even Lukas's den, he is allowed near the cubs, he is part of the family-pack they've all created. Danicka knows that Lukas is okay with Daniel, that he likes him, but this is still the first time she's heard him say so aloud.
She smiles to hear it, and starts working herself away from him, knowing he's going to pull her back. He almost always pulls her back, and once upon a time this used to set off alarm bells in her head, enough so that she'd go quiet and passive to let him do whatever he liked, which was such a start difference in her that he'd rear back immediately, confused and wary. She'd be lying if she said now that it never bothers her, that it doesn't sometimes cause flickers of fear or flashes of irritation when she starts to move and he holds her back. She'd be lying if she said that it doesn't occasionally make her wary. But the thing is: Danicka does not often lie to him anymore, and it would take mortal terror for her to do so.
Lukas knows that. She lied to him for a couple of months, in fact, after a night of sheer mortal terror. But in the end they came back to the thing that allows them to stay in this, to overcome the frustration over this thing or the fear because of that thing: she will talk to him now. She will say, trying not to sigh because he takes it so very hard, that she doesn't want him to do that. These days all Danicka has to do is begin "Baby..." and he knows by tone that she does not want that right now, that it is not tender or endearing or comforting or shared but that she wants to move and he is not letting her and this is not a good thing. He knows it instantly, and lets go.
This time isn't like that. This time doesn't have to be like that because other times have been like that and other times, they've learned. This time doesn't have to be like that because Danicka tells him the truth now. She smiles as he grumps, holding her, winding his arms around her, holding her in his teeth like he has done over and over and over during this visit, calling her his mate because he is surrounded by family-pack but this one is special. This one is his above all others.
Danicka touches his hair for a moment, before she moves away and he lets her go. She stands under the water, adjusts the heat for him a bit, then steps out. Awhile later he can hear the hair dryer going, and she's still doing her hair five minutes later when he steps out, reaching for his own towel. She's just finishing her hair and the very light base of makeups she wears on a regular day when he has finished drying and getting dressed. She is going to get her clothes for the day when he's thumping downstairs, telling her she should come too.
Outside it's a rare sunny day, warming the otherwise impenetrable cold. Granted, it's warming it just ten degrees or so above freezing, but that is enough for the kids, who are moving and jumping and flailing around.
Danicka, notably, does not engage in the snow fight. She in fact withholds her outdoor presence for some time. An hour or so before sundown the kids start getting called home, and by then Danicka has only been outside for thirty minutes or so, a familiar kelly-green hat with a white flower atop her hair, a scarf around her neck that matches it. The four children who are from Czechoslovakia by way of New York City are red-nosed and chilled but riled with energy. They've been running in and out of the house all afternoon now, sipping down cocoa or grabbing a snack before rushing outside again, pausing only to warm up before playing more.
They all, all four of them, jump at the chance to go on a walk in the woods. There are no woods near their house. It has been a long time for all of them, except Milos, and they huddle together and tromp out into the snow with Lukas and Danicka. The sky's blue darkens, then gets strangely bright with colors that are closer to the sun. They have, gauging by that light, a little under an hour before it gets very dark and bitterly cold out here.
Irena walks up front, because everyone else is too slow for her, and she has to stop occasionally to find out which way to go. Emanek tries to keep up with her but he's worn out and doesn't care enough, walking behind Milos to take advantage of the slightly-plowed way his brother's stride creates. Renata is not fussing right now, is not wringing her hands over the younger ones. She is quiet, slightly awed at their surroundings, as through breathing too hard will shatter some kind of magic. And Milos walks on Lukas's left, just as Danicka walks on his right. Out onto the path, and past the sign, and into the woods. There is not much life or movement this time of year; the leaflessness all around makes it hard for prey animals to hide, so they have gone to ground. Birds have migrated.
Renata: "Oh, look," she breathes, pointing at the tracks when she finds them, careful not to disturb them. Instantly Irena hustles over, peering down at the snow, fascinated. She looks at Lukas, the same question on her lips that Emanek soon asks in a fascinated, rather than fearful, tone of voice.
A moment later he's scooped up like he isn't eight years old, like he's not Too Big, like he's almost a toddler or preschooler again. The world is dizzy and white and black and blue all around him for a moment before he finds himself settled like a sack under Lukas's arm, of no greater import against that strength than a stack of pillows or something. He huffs, his breath steaming.
Milos smiles. The guest deer.
And Danicka smiles: "We came out to these preserves for the summer solstice," she says. "And he hunted rabbits and muskrats."
Emanek makes a face, quite limply allowing himself to be carted around like this is totally beyond the ability to surprise him at this point. He is mostly on his side and back, staring up at the stars. "Ew."
"Was it good?" Irena wants to know.
Danicka laughs. "It wasn't great. But it would have been wasteful to kill it and not eat it. At least try it, and be grateful for the meat."
That, Milos understands, too. He's smiling, looking around them, and as his eyes go faraway in the woods he gets this look in them, this distance, this craving,
that Lukas knows too well. That Irena feels but cannot satisfy -- except in her dreams, now, if she holds onto that stone. That, truth be told, Danicka and Renata can figure out with a few moments of thought. But Milos glances down again, finding that Irena has taken his hand, is holding it, and a look of pity tightens his brow a moment as he looks at her. It's replaced then by a smaller smile, a smooth brow, and a squeeze of her hand. She smiles, too.
"Come on," Danicka says to them. "Let's get back home before it gets dark. We have business to attend to."
"Oh! Right!" blurts Emanek, and wiggles a little. "Are you going to carry me the whole way back? Cuz if you are, can I have a shoulder ride?"
"Eman," Renata chides, but she's only half-serious.
Lukas"Business?" Lukas quirks, grinning. And, after pretending to consider Emanek's request a moment, "Well, why not."
Emanek finds himself abruptly turned right side up, hoisted up, seated on his uncle's broad shoulders. Never mind that he's a good three or five years too old for this. When Lukas turns toward Irena, Emanek turns with him.
"How about you, Irca? I could probably piggyback you."
Danicka"Business," Danicka repeats, her brows arching and her tone ever so mysterious. She turns in the snow, to head back toward the house, as Lukas hoists Emanek up to his shoulders.
The boy's eyes are dizzy a moment, then settle on the horizon. He finds a decent spot for his hands, holding on to Lukas's forehead loosely, confidently, unafraid of toppling downward. Lukas suggests that he could piggyback Irena as well and her little fair eyebrows go up, doubtful.
"No, I don't need to be carried," she says, elongating the vowels in 'no' and 'need', "because I'm not a baby like Eman."
Her brother, seeing right through her, just cackles. Irena scowls at him dangerously, the sort of glare meant to be a warning, but he is over six and a half feet in the air and untouchable, snickering at her. Milos, perhaps sensing -- or merely aware of -- how thin the boundary is between Irena's playful glaring and Irena flying off the handle, screaming and hitting and biting at whatever upsets her, tugs on her hand and crouches.
"Come on, let's you and me go. We'll be the scouts," he says, grinning. Irena considers this, wondering if she's being teased, then stops caring and hops on her brother's back, legs to either side of him, arms wound around his shoulders. He hoists her up like he's done this a hundred times, a thousand, then goes oof. "You've gotten bigger."
"So have you," the girl counters, "so no whining!"
And he lets out a laugh, a big one that you'd never imagine coming from his lean form, and they take off, bounding on and off the path, kicking up snow as they rush on ahead. Irena's hair flounces against her back as her laughter carries itself back to them on the breeze. Danicka, holding Renata's hand now, just chuckles as she walks alongside Lukas and Emanek.
"Go! Go!" Emanek is saying, all but kicking Lukas in the chest. "We can race them!"
"EmAN," Renata says again, this time a little more seriously, and the boy goes still, remembering again.
"Oh, right!" A beat. He pats Lukas's forehead. "Go very, very slow. Racing is stupid." He thinks he is very convincing.
Danicka passes by Lukas with her niece, arching her brows at him, smiling that mysterious smile.
When they do get back to the house -- whether Lukas decided to whoop and run on ahead with Emanek on his shoulders or to walk back easily with Danicka and Renata -- they find Milos and Irena's things have been hung up on the hooks inside the front door, their boots set aside. The entryway tiles are a muddy, snowy mess from this visit, but as soon as everyone leaves a good mopping will sparkle it up again. Danicka and Renata go in first, and Emanek is shivering on top of Lukas til he's set down, but soon enough they're all in the door, closing it behind them, shedding wet coats and scarves and gloves and hats and boots and tromping upstairs in pants that are wet up to the knee or worse.
Their family is in the living room, the tree twinkling with its lights all on even though all the presents have been cleared away. Kandovany is still wandering around, jingling and jangling with her little orange-bell collar. Daniel is playing with her, using the cat teaser that was in her litlte cat stocking. Anezka is sitting close to him, warm, maybe to make up for the fact that they have something to talk about, they both know it, and yet it has to wait. Kandovany keeps standing up on her hind legs, batting at the rubber ball with the feathers in it, almost catching it, then finding it springing away on the elastic string, pouncing after it with growing agitation.
Jaroslav and Miloslav have brought in the card table from the kitchen and a couple of chairs, playing a game of Othello. The tiles click and fall softly on the felt board as they turn and move them. Jaroslav is white. Miloslav is black.
Sarka can be heard down the hall with her two Garou children, or at least one of them. Irena is in the girls' room, chattering away as -- one imagines -- she changes into some dryer clothes and tells her mother all about the snow and the woods and the hunting and the solstice and the muskrat and these kids from down the street and the snowball fight. Miloslav exits the boys' room a moment later, also changed into a dry set of jeans and a sweatshirt, the sleeves pushed up and his feet bare, munching on an apple that was in his stocking.
Marjeta comes out of the kitchen soon after she hears the last four of the brood come in, carrying a tray full of mugs of hot chocolate and coffee, smiling at them tumbling in from the stairs. Emanek beelines for the cocoa before Renata tells him to go put on some new pants, since the ones he has on are wet even after removing his snowpants. They were outside a long time this afternoon. He tromps off, his jean-hems flapping wetly around his ankles.
Danicka, who did not throw herself into great big banks of snow and wore knee-high boots, is not damp here or there. Renata is, but she goes into the girls' room as Irena and Sarka are coming out, and Danicka gives Marjeta a meaningful look and then stands on her toes to kiss Lukas's cheek. "Go change, baby. I'll make sure we save you a cup of cocoa." Her eyes are twinkling. She can't help it.
LukasLukas, of course, shoots Danicka a devilish grin before taking off after Milos and Irena. "Race you to the bridge!" he yells. Emanek is yelling in glee, hanging on for dear life as Lukas goes hurtling down the sidewalk.
They give Milos and Irena a good run for their money. It's partly because Milos has a sizable head start, but perhaps also because Lukas doesn't really want to beat his nephew in a footrace.
So Milos and Irena hit the light post seconds ahead of Lukas and Emanek. And Milos is huffing, while Irena sticks a sportsmanly hand out to Emanek. Soon enough they're off again, running ahead, playing scouts, while Lukas waits for Danicka and Renata.
Later, in the house, the kids get changed and Danicka asks Lukas to go change. He catches the glance between his mother and his mate, and his eyebrows rise.
"I sense impending business," he says - and then, obediently enough, heads on upstairs.
DanickaOf course he races. Emanek claps his hands suddenly onto Lukas's head, nearly tugging at his scalp in an effort to hold on, bouncing and yelling as they go, kicking up snow just like Milos and Irena. Their breath comes in clouds of steam, and Danicka is just shaking her head at the lot of them when she and Renata -- walking at a leisurely pace -- catch up with Lukas and walk the rest of the way to the house with him.
Jaroslav and Miloslav simply continue their game. It's a thoughtful, calm game, good for both of them, not as charged or as fraught with underlying tension as, say, chess, which is more Jaroslav's game anyway. Miloslav has always preferred cards, but his eyes aren't what they used to be, for one thing. There is almost a sense of cooperation underneath the competition in Othello, as though one way or another the board becomes a glossy sea of a single color, a thing of beauty against a field of green no matter how it is played.
Somewhere along the line, Danicka filled a few shelves in a downstairs closet with board games. Chess, checkers, Othello, Scrabble -- mostly games that were good for two players, games that can be played just as their fathers are playing: a bit lazily, slowly, and thoughtfully. There's also Stratego and Monoply, which she and Lukas almost never play because they actually got into a fight over it once and had to stop when they realized they were yelling at each other over Monopoly. There's Uno and Fluxx and Farkle and a bunch of other games that, in the end, serve mostly to pass the time on a cold winter's night. Just like tonight.
Lukas notes the business he was clued into, and truth be told, he can't miss the scents wafting through the house, mingling in his nostrils, the sense of heat from the kitchen. But up he goes, and when he comes downstairs again, he can hear whispering and bustling that soon goes silent. Turning the corner at the foot of the stairs, he can see even in the dark that everyone is in the living room. The game has been set aside for now, the lights are all off, and everyone is gathered around the coffee table, where the cake his mother made for him is sitting, lit up with candles. They flicker off of faces, and everyone -- including Daniel, who had to be coached on the phrase -- bursts out with:
"Všechno nejlepší k narozeninám!"
LukasSomehow - even knowing what day it is, smelling the scents of baked cake and lit candles - somehow, despite all that, Lukas pauses at the foot of the stairs when his family bursts into a birthday cheer. The look on his face is complex, nearly overcome. He can't remember the last time he had a birthday like this, surrounded by all his family.
"Aw, guys..." he says, stepping forward, and the kids are flinging hugs on him - Emanek and Irena, and then Milos and even Renata; then Anezka, then his father's hand on his shoulder, all of them winding him into their center, their core, where the cake his mother baked is all aglow. "D kuju," he keeps saying, "d kuji moc."
And then there's Danicka. And he's unwinding from a hug from his mother, turning to wrap his wife and mate in his arms, burying his face against the side of her neck for a long moment, gathering himself.
When he draws away he swipes thumb and forefingers swiftly across his eyes, then turns to the cake; bursts into a huge smile.
"Kandované pomeran
ové pln ní?"
It would be hard to mask the smell of cake and frosting and filling from a Garou, even one in homid. Maybe he ignored it, since the house has smelled like food most of the week. Maybe he honestly couldn't catch the scent as clearly because of being out so long in the cold. Maybe it doesn't matter. He is surprised -- actually and sincerely surprised, which tickles just about everyone to no end -- when he comes downstairs to a dark room, a candled birthday cake, and his entire family bursting into a cheer. It's almost like he forgot what day it is.
There are hugs. And then more hugs. Claps on the back and shoulder, laughter primarily because they managed to pull one over on him, plan all this, get it done without him so much as suspecting. Emanek and Irena are eager to explain to him just how vital they were to this plan and all the things they did, and Danicka is making sure he knows that his mother baked this, and it's all quite noisy and warm til Marjeta tsks that the wax is going to melt onto the cake if he doesn't blow the candles out soon.
That is what gets Lukas's face away from Danicka's neck, after that deep, long hug where he hides his face a moment. He comes up swiping at his eyes but everyone is far too kind and respectful and reverent to --
Anezka cackles and totally makes fun of him for crying, and then Irena is snapping no he isn't because he is an Adren Ahroun and going to be her mentor and also a boy and she still hasn't grasped that men (and Adren Ahrouns) also have usable and involuntarily stimulated tear ducts.
"Close," Marjeta tells him, when he questions the filling, smiling. The cake's frosting is thick and fluffy and white, swept into peaks and whorls across the top and sides. There are twists of candied oranges along the rim and in the center, the candles all around.
"It's chocolate," Emanek says.
"The filling is ganache," Daniel adds.
"With orange extract," Anezka fills in.
"And wax all over the frosting," Miloslav says gruffly. "Blow out your candles!"
Danicka[note: LIQUEUR, NOT EXTRACT]
Lukas"All right, all right," Lukas says, laughing - his arm around Danicka still, Emanek hanging off one leg just because. A big breath - and then Lukas pauses a second,
makes a wish,
then huffs out such a puff that all the candles gutter and go out. The living room is dark, except for the glow of the Christmas tree and the last embers of the candles, and as everyone claps and laughs Lukas turns and kisses Danicka on the mouth, quick and firm, then reaches out and feels for the cake-knife.
Someone flips the light on. Everyone's squinting, laughing, and Lukas pulls up a chair to the coffeetable to start carving the cake. The first cut, and then turning to Danicka, motioning with the knife - "How big?"
DanickaShe's laughing against his mouth, barely able to kiss him back more than a peck because he swung around like that and just laid one on her. His mother is taking the cake back to the coffee table to set it down and pluck out the candles neatly, making sure not to leave any cooled dollops of wax on the frosting.
They play keep-away with the serving knife, because he's not even looking, and when he drags up a chair, his mother takes the knife away from him just as soon as he's gotten it.
For a moment there's a flash, a memory. It started even before he changed, and they wouldn't let him do anything. Help make breakfast. Wait to be served. He was the Shadow Lord in the house, the Garou, the Ahroun. But his mother isn't being deferential; she's tsking him that he will give everyone half the cake if they let him do it.
"I'll get plates and forks," Sarka says, still laughing, and Irena and Emanek are already both asking for pieces with orange on top, because clearly those are the most special.
In the end they share one, because a round layered cake cut to serve twelve does not yield enormous portions for anyone. They use the paper plates -- the compostable ones that Danicka insists on buying, specifically -- and gather around the coffee table with forks in hand and everyone commenting eagerly and thankfully on Marjeta's baking. Renata actually sits by her and asks about the ganache and the texture of the cake, because as 50s-housewife as it might seem, she really does love baking.
Emanek is sitting between Lukas's feet with his plate of cake, getting frosting and crumbs stuck to the corners of his mouth, though not all over it. There are a few gifts that materialize as people finish their cake and as Lukas finishes his, though: small things, really. Irena and Emanek made him a card, which Emanek did the pictures for and which Irena painstakingly wrote in her best cursive on. Miloslav produces a pair of cufflinks, with metal settings -- brushed steel, nothing more exciting or expensive than that -- but fit with disks of oak that are carved with Perun's symbol. The same symbol Danicka carved, some time ago, into the beams of their attic. They look lovely, but knowing Miloslav, he made them in a weekend.
Danicka gives him a tie. It's a deep shade of green, not one of his regular colors, with the faintest hint of silver when one shifts it to catch the light. She smiles at him when he thanks her, tucking some of his hair behind his ear, because the green has as much symbolism (at least between the two of them) as the cufflinks. And because he already knows there's more. Upstairs. For later. Sarka and Renata have pooled their resources -- Renata babysits -- and given him a gift card for a bookstore. Milos has provided a handwritten coupon that is, in essence, a vow to come back and help Lukas whenever he wants to construct an outside or larger home for Water.
After his family has given him whatever birthday gifts they've brought or bought or made, Danicka leans over and kisses his temple. "When you're ready, we have 8 o'clock reservations in the city. I've already packed you a bag for the night, but you should definitely change," she tells him, flicking her eyes over his attire. "Again."
LukasLukas's lap is full of presents again by the time he finishes eating his cake. He smiles at the card, trying not to laugh at Irena's painstaking cursive; he handles the cufflinks gently, lovingly, as Miloslav gives them to him.
Anezka and Daniel, it turns out, give him a bluray of Red Riding Hood - apparently because there's something in there about a big black wolf that looks just like you . His parents give him a book.
And then there's that something else from Danicka, which apparently involves reservations in the city. So Lukas raises his eyebrows at his family, looks right at Irena as he asks -
"Think you guys can take care of yourselves?"
- which is naturally met with a resounding yes.
He goes upstairs, then. They can hear him thumping around while they're cleaning up the cake, saving the last slice for someone's midnight snack later. When he comes back down, he's in a sleek coat and nice jeans, his new cufflinks threaded through his buttonholes, his new tie knotted.
Sliding his wallet and new phone in his pocket, picking up his coat in one hand and taking Danicka's hand in the other, he pauses to bid the family goodnight.
"Don't wait up," he says. And then, quirking an eyebrow at the kids - "Zoo tomorrow, don't forget!"
DanickaThey are simple gifts, small ones, just as it always was for his birthday when he was a child or when his family would send him a small package to Stark Falls. A letter, a book, some token of their respect. This is different, though, different because they understand now. And how that happened is anyone's guess. For all Lukas knows, Anezka lost her temper at their mother and father one day about how they were taking her brother away with all their deference, and that he wasn't like that.
He's made more of an effort, it's true. He's worked hard to show them that he's not a monster, not like most Shadow Lords, that he hasn't really stopped being their son. But it takes a lot to change minds set that deeply into a single frame of thought. It probably took Lukas, and Anezka, and Danicka, and friends of theirs in New York losing their children to the war. Most of all, it took time.
"Oh, that movie was horrible," Danicka says of the DVD, laughing. "But you're right, it looked just like him."
Lukas looks straight at Irena to ask if they'll be all right and hears an exhale from Milos that has scuffed edges. He holds out his hands to his sides, staring at Lukas as though to say Hello? Right here. Renata simply raises her eyebrows, looking the way Danicka does when she is right on the edge of explaining to him just how reality works, thank you very much. Irena, of course, is just rolling her eyes at Lukas because geez, it's not like they've never stayed home before.
Which might be when he realizes that no adults are staying here with them. That Daniel and Anezka and Sarka and Miloslav and his parents will probably hang out for awhile, play with the kids, spend time together, but ultimately return to their hotel rooms. It's just one night, and in the end... well, it's true. Renata is quite old enough to watch her own family, and has for years. Milos is a goddamn werewolf. Then there's Perun's oak, and Water, and Glass.
And Kandovany, who bites things she does not like.
They'll be fine.
Danicka heads upstairs with Lukas to get ready as well, adding a bit more curl to her hair and a little more makeup to her eyes and lips. She's getting undressed as he heads down, assuring him she'll be right down, she just has to change. There are two overnight bags on the bed, the gifts they didn't dare open in front of family members packed gently inside. When she trots down the stairs she's in black lace-patterned stockings and a pair of gray heels that tie in a little chiffon bow over the tops of her feet. Her dress -- which is gray, with small accents of green -- is tailored close to her body, the sort she wears that drives him nuts trying to get it off because he can't ruck that close-fitting skirt up past her thighs.
Her purse is in hand, just as the overnight bags are in Lukas's. She gives quick hugs and kisses to family, wishing them one last Merry Christmas, reminding the adults and the teenagers when the photographer is coming -- ten o'clock tomorrow morning -- and trading keys with Daniel and Anezka. She starts in on remembering to lock up and feed Kando and Renata all but shoves her to the door. "We know, we know," Irena and Emanek chant, as though now for some reason they're eager for the lady and man of the house to just go so they can watch a movie.
Soon enough they're outside in the chill, Danicka wrapped in her white wool coat, all golden and fair next to his darkness. She laughs, almost a bit nervously, as they walk down towards her car. "I'll drive," she says, heading to the far side of the Infiniti while she presses a button to pop the trunk.
Once he's put the bags away and climbed into the car with her, she laughs, waiting awhile for it to warm up. "Oh, I'm excited," she breathes, amused at herself.
