Mason Reynolds (maseinyourface) wrote in undeadsiegeic, @ 2014-12-20 00:23:00 |
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Entry tags: | mason, renata |
WHO: Mason and Ren
WHERE: Haven; Mason's shop
WHEN: [forward-dated] December 24, 2014; late evening
WHAT: Cousins' Christmas Eve celebration. Booze, Santa hats, and probs some hilarious awkwards.
Mason didn’t like Christmas. No, that wasn’t entirely true. More like he’d always wanted to like Christmas, to enjoy the “magic of the season” and whatever the fuck else other kids did during this time of the year. Growing up, though, holidays were no more special than any other day. Oh, he and Owen got presents and the like, and there was a big meal that everyone sat around and shared, but it was never a jolly time. In fact, it was like a funeral. Or a bar brawl. Two completely different things, sure, but between the silence of Christmas dinner (everyone too afraid to say anything lest they anger their father), and the inevitable moment when their father would demand to know how much money was “wasted” on Christmas presents - a funeral and a bar brawl were accurate descriptions. He and the rest of the younger members of the family always made the best of it, though. Christmas didn’t really get good until later on in life, when they were all out on their own and given the choice whether to go home for the holidays or make their own celebration. Theirs was an unconventional get-together, the offspring celebrating without the parents. But it was far more enjoyable that way. He liked celebrating in his own way, which usually meant Santa hats and booze and presents. Just the four of them. No one else was welcome. Only the two of them were present this year. Mason wasn’t feeling his cheeriest, but he wanted to do something. After all, they’d had enough shitty Christmases to last a lifetime. Whether the city was filled with zombies or people dressed as elves, he was going to celebrate. Ren was in the living room when he found her. He didn’t say anything, didn’t want to attract her attention until he was close enough. As soon as he was within reach, he moved his hand out from behind his back and pulled the Santa hat down onto his cousin’s head. “Hey look, still fits.” Would she remember the hat he’d made her wear that year he and Cade and Owen visited her in the States? Lips curled upwards, he went over to the cabinet where he stored the alcohol and brought out a six-pack of Cooper’s Vintage Ale. It wasn’t his favorite, but he’d traded quite a few machetes and a case of bullets for the prize. Mason pulled one of the bottles out of the cardboard carrier and pushed it into Ren’s hand. Taking another, he clinked the bottles together. “Drink up, Mini. It’s Christmas Eve.” The rest of the ales went on the coffee table. Mason sank into his chair and grinned over at her in the hat. |