12 Days of Christmas 2011, Day Two -- Wreath
This was inspired by some RP stuff I was doing at the time -- Butterfly Boy posting a picture of some steampunk ornaments on Charloft, and Forgotten Vows and his Alice discussing Christmas decorations on tumblr. The steampunk ornaments made me think of clockwork wreaths, which in turn made me think of Doc putting one on his door, and the rest flowed from there. It got slightly depressing at the end without me meaning it to (writing about Nell and Victor's childhood tends to do that), but at least it also reaffirms Victor's finally gotten the family he's always wanted.
“And – there!”
Doc held up his handiwork for the boys to admire. “What do you think?”
“It looks great, Doc,” Marty said, giving his friend a thumbs up.
“It’s just perfect for the shop,” Victor agreed with a grin.
“Thanks – I thought so,” Doc nodded, looking at the clockwork wreath. Threaded through the conglomeration of wheels, gears, and cogs were the words “Merry Christmas,” written in nails and screws. “And frankly, metal is easier to get than greenery. Cheaper, too.” He went to hang it on the door, the two young men following. “I suppose I could paint it green, all things considered. . . .”
“No, it’s perfect the way it is,” Victor told him, watching as he positioned it. “Just. . .perfect.”
Marty glanced up at him, frowning. “You sound a little sad. What’s up?”
“. . .Well, I’m j-just remembering Christmas in Burtonsville. The way my mother would cover our house, inside and out, with expensive decorations.” He looked at the placed wreath. “And this outshines them all – b-because it was made with real attention. Real – love.”
There was silence for a moment. Then, suddenly, Victor found himself wrapped in hugs by both Doc and Marty. “Yeah,” Marty agreed quietly.
“We’ll always be here for you, Victor,” Doc said. “Don’t ever forget that.”
Victor smiled and hugged back. “I won’t. I promise.”
Doc held up his handiwork for the boys to admire. “What do you think?”
“It looks great, Doc,” Marty said, giving his friend a thumbs up.
“It’s just perfect for the shop,” Victor agreed with a grin.
“Thanks – I thought so,” Doc nodded, looking at the clockwork wreath. Threaded through the conglomeration of wheels, gears, and cogs were the words “Merry Christmas,” written in nails and screws. “And frankly, metal is easier to get than greenery. Cheaper, too.” He went to hang it on the door, the two young men following. “I suppose I could paint it green, all things considered. . . .”
“No, it’s perfect the way it is,” Victor told him, watching as he positioned it. “Just. . .perfect.”
Marty glanced up at him, frowning. “You sound a little sad. What’s up?”
“. . .Well, I’m j-just remembering Christmas in Burtonsville. The way my mother would cover our house, inside and out, with expensive decorations.” He looked at the placed wreath. “And this outshines them all – b-because it was made with real attention. Real – love.”
There was silence for a moment. Then, suddenly, Victor found himself wrapped in hugs by both Doc and Marty. “Yeah,” Marty agreed quietly.
“We’ll always be here for you, Victor,” Doc said. “Don’t ever forget that.”
Victor smiled and hugged back. “I won’t. I promise.”