OPEN ● ● ● Every Christmas is Last Christmas

[lateness]

CHARACTERS: the doctor (12), the doctor (11), clara oswald, river song, and all of you
LOCATION: the mess hall, the kitchens, the simulation room
DATE: december 24th, 25th
CONTENT: team tardis throws a big christmas party for the station
WARNINGS: none for now, will warn as needed (no fires!!!)

PART I
'TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS ...

1.0 Inside the kitchen and mess hall, Orbers will find the entire place decked out to the nines (Or elevens! Hohoho). No one knows how this all came together, but you will find almost everything Christmas related decorated along the walls and tables.

Hanging all around the walls are blue Christmas stockings! Each stocking will have the name of Orber etched in gold knitting. Inside each stocking is an array of personalized treats (if your character is a smoker, for example, then they will find a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, etc.)

On the tables at each place setting there are various coloured paper crowns for Orbers to decorate on their head – courtesy of Clara Oswald and her assistant, the Doctor (the chinny one) – and Christmas crackers to share with friends. Go on, then! Pull that cracker, see the assortment of sweets and surprises you’ve received. As far as refreshments go, there is plenty to share amongst everyone! There is eggnog, "naughty" eggnog, cookies, cakes, candy canes and sugar gumdrops. It is a downright delightful spread of treats to indulge and tide you over for before you feast with your teammates.

2.0 Before the main feast is prepared, there are plenty of activities to keep you (or a friend or two) occupied. Do you see those Christmas trees on almost every corner of the station? Yeah, the Doctor(s) got awfully distracted (something about if a hot dog is a sandwich) and these bare trees could use some decorative love. Or perhaps you can express your creative talents in the kitchen, where you may want to test out a new recipe to share with the rest of the class. Whether it be a savoury or a sweet dish, there is sure to be at least one person who might like it.

There is also a magician’s kit lying around if you want to take a crack at learning a few new tricks to show off to others! Or if you wish to partake in any group activity, there is a stack of board games and a deck of cards to play a friendly game of Go Fish! Who knows? The game-world’s your oyster.

3.0 By evening, the mess hall will be set up with napkins and plates and cutlery of varying Christmas-y colours. It isn’t perfect, but nothing ever really is, is it? Especially after the Doctor (the cross Scots one) might have very nearly burned the kitchens down a little earlier – something about improving the heat for the roast. Still, it’s finally time for the Christmas feast! And oh, what a smell there is wafting through the large space. There’s plenty of delicious food to go around – especially using much of the ingredients that had come in through the last supply drop. There are varying plates of savoury and sweet dishes, some recognizable, some a little more ... eclectic (you use what space ingredients you’re given, after all), but all of what the hosts have prepared look ... surprisingly edible, some of it even delicious. Roast veg, gravy, stuffing, biscuits, gingerbread, hot cocoa, marshmallows, something mulled, and sweets!

Of course, the more food, the merrier! If you’ve taken part in the cooking and baking from earlier, arriving with your own special Signature Dish, the Doctors (yes, both of them!) will be so pleased to see it join the rest of the feast.

And for those who might have run across the Doctor’s enthusiastic ramblings on Jammie Dodgers at one point will finally get a chance to try them. They’ll be stacked up to resemble a tree on a plate, sprinkled with (edible) glitter in blue and silver.

PART II
SIMPLY HAVING A WONDERFUL CHRISTMAS TIME

4.0 Christmas Morning finds everyone with an open invitation to the simulation room to attend a very merry Christmas morning. Step inside and be taken away to a warm and cozy living room that is elaborately decorated for the holiday. You’ve been decorated for the occasion too, decked out in pajamas and a robe. With slippers to match, everyone that’s a part of Christmas morning will look like they’re ready to play their part in the festivities. There’s a fire crackling in the fireplace, the smell of cinnamon and clove in the air, and the distant sound of traditional Christmas songs playing on an antique radio over in the corner of the room. There’s also a tree, of course, one that almost seems too large to be in such a quaint place. It’s fully decorated, absolutely covered with a variety of kitschy ornaments like Santa Claus on a T-Rex or bears in tutus. There also happen to be ornaments of every single orber present on the station, presented in the form of ridiculous looking little elves.

Around the tree and scattered around the floor are opened gift boxes, wrapping paper strewn about. Toys from the boxes are discarded on the floor and around the room, plastic dinosaurs and robots that come to life when you wind them up. There are ridiculous looking squeaky alien toys, marshmallow launchers, and even a giant stuffed giraffe. Who could all of these toys belong to?

There also happen to be gifts beneath the tree for everyone. There aren’t any labels on the gifts so feel free to choose whichever one you like (but only one, there won’t be any greedy Scrooges here on Christmas!). No matter what size package that is chosen, big or small, there’s a sweater inside: an ugly Christmas sweater for everyone. One that can be put on over your pajamas to take part in an ugly sweater contest once everyone has unwrapped their gifts.

And of course no Christmas morning is complete without some sort of breakfast. Set up in the corner of the room is a small table with pastries and cocoa, with a big bowl of mini marshmallows. There’s coffee present too, for those that prefer their breakfast with a little less sugar. There’s plenty of seating around the living room to grab a leather chair or a spot on the fluffy couch. Or maybe sit in one of the red velvet chairs over by the windows to watch the slow and steady snowfall over a picturesque view of the British countryside.

5.0 As the events of the morning slowly come to an end, the simulation shifts to a quiet little town. There’s snow on rooftops and colorful lights lining buildings that manage to glisten and glow even in the daylight. The entire street is completely over the top with decoration; fresh garlands that smell of pleasant pine, miniature christmas trees decorated from top to bottom, and vibrant red bows are just about everywhere. There’s no hustle and bustle here, just a relaxed afternoon in the most Christmasy town ever.

The smell of cider and gingerbread baking are in the air, brought on by a bakery that’s open for a visit. Want to make a gingerbread house? There are materials set out to do that. There are things for gingerbread people too, if that’s more your bag.

There’s a bookstore filled with all kinds of books. If you’re not from Earth and are curious about Christmas, there’s plenty of children’s books on the matter waiting for you to enjoy. They’re set up on an elaborate display up front, though anyone is free to browse around and look through what else they have to offer.

A toy store, magician’s shop, and a boisterous pub round off the shops found on the street. There’s street vendors selling chestnuts that have been roasted over an open fire, wassail, and marshmallows for roasting. There’s also a band playing live music, Christmas carols of course. Join in and sing along or don’t. No one’s going to judge you either way. Take your time to enjoy everything or rush through because it’s too much Christmas, all in your face at once. Either way, the marketplace is present for hours in the afternoon and leading into the evening hours.

6.0 As night falls everyone is guided out of town and down a candle lit path that leads to a frozen over pond. It’s been set up for ice skating, with skates set aside for anyone that wants a pair. There’s baubles of lights set out all around the area, and the moon hangs high overhead. No seriously, the moon looks incredibly huge tonight. It’s blue glow reflects on the ice along with the warm yellow glow of all the lights. It’s a welcoming atmosphere, inviting anyone that’s brave enough to put on skates and take part.

The band from the Christmas market earlier are back to play throughout the night, playing quieter songs mixed in with lively pieces that are meant to get people speed skating around the ice.

Set a short distance away from the ice is a long table, with plenty of mismatched seats. Fairy lights twinkle overhead, and are also glowing from inside glass canisters that make up the centerpieces on the table. There’s dark blue galaxy dinnerware at every place, and a small feast spread out so no matter where someone sits there’s plenty within reach. It always manages to stay warm, and nothing ever seems to run out. It’s a perfect place to take a break and grab a quick meal, or just sit and chat with someone while you both enjoy a drink.

The area around the pond can be explored, so go crazy playing in the snow or whatever it is you want to do there. Just don’t wander too far off from the group. There may or may not be razor-toothed snowmen keeping you from going too far. They may hiss or blow snow in your face, but they probably won’t try to bite anyone.

🎄 After all of that is said and done, Orbers may find themselves drawn towards a small bonfire billowing from the center of this quaint little town. But it isn’t just the scent of warm Maplewood dancing underneath your nose. There sitting on top of a milk-crate is The Doctor (12) playing a jaunty little tune from his electric guitar. Orbers are more than welcome to sit around the bonfire and reflect on these past few months and where they might find themselves in the future.

If you find yourselves by your lonesome fear not! The Doctor (11) will be there offer you a hug (or smooch if you’re feeling saucy).

No matter what strife you have been through this year, just remember ...

Each and every one of your lives is a story. So best make it a good one.

Comments

[aurable]

"No promises," Drift answers as he watches Megatron make the act of unwrapping a Christmas present as grim and perfunctory as only he was capable of.

"To be honest, I didn't think it would come through," Drift explained as Megatron turned over the large data-pad with the word 'LAYERS' set into the frame just above the screen. "Most of it was published, anonymously of course, in a single collection fairly recently, so I thought...you'd like a copy."

[flickerandfade]

"Layers?" Megatron asks, turning it over in his hands to peer at the title. He presses a button and the tablet lights up to the first page.

"Poetry? I appreciate it. I haven't had a chance to read anything new since they won't even allow me reading material that isn't approved and re-approved by my jailers. I've made do with a lot of classics, but... Well, it's one of the few pleasures I have left and..." Megatron trails off as he turns the first page to the dedication and there's a pause as he reads it aloud.

"Dedicated to the mech that taught me I was greater when I didn't hide my truth behind an armored shell. Thank you for showing me that it was the size of my spark that mattered and nothing else.

Also dedicated to those that helped me to find comfort in who I was and not who others wanted me to be." The mech's voice fades.

Megatron's grip on the data-pad tightens and there's a creak of polymer before his grip eases. He turns away from Drift and without saying a word, he leans up against the bulkhead with one hand, shoulders hunched as he fights... something. It's a long moment before Megatron manages to find his voice again.

"You know who the author is, don't you?"

[aurable]

Drift was afraid he had made a terrible mistake in the silence that followed Megatron reading the dedication. Something in the way the lights from the Christmas tree exaggerated the shadows playing across's Megatron's profile. Everything about the other mech seemed older, more worn down than the figure who still kept his head high and moved through life with a dignity a lifetime of regrets failed to snuff out.

"Of course," Drift replies cautiously as he remains the other put between them at a distance. "Ratty told me a while ago. Before these were published, he more or less implied Magnus- that Minimus was a favorite of yours."

[flickerandfade]

"Minimus was..." How does Megatron explain Minimus? He had started as another jailer, another stranger. He'd come to admire Minimus' forthrightness and dedication, his refusal to leave any matter less than thoroughly completed. The fondness Megatron had felt for him was immense. Megatron's frame feels heavier than it has in a long time and the way he sags and slumps seems so uncharacteristic of Megatron that one might convince themselves they couldn't possibly be looking at the same mech.

He had had to stop himself from saying something both of them would have eventually regretted more than once.

"I was very fond of him, Drift. He's a good mech." A mech who deserved better than a broken down old fighter who was soon to be dead or imprisoned.

"Thank you. Thank you very much for the gift."

[aurable]

"I know you are," Drift said with a knowing smile as he witnessed an all too familiar feeling try and fail to remain hidden beneath the layers of Megatron's own -self-imposed miserable stoicism.

Not sure what else to do, Drift hesitated before reaching out and placing a hand on Megatron's shoulder.

"He told me he promised you that he would destroy his arm—he made good on that. For you as much as for himself, I think."

[flickerandfade]

Megatron was mourning as much as Drift. Except that Megatron was mourning a future that never could have been rather that a life that was. A moment of possibility that never had a chance even to breathe before reality smothered it.

"Good. It's... It's what I told him. He is so much bigger without it. That spark of his truly shines," Megatron murmured. As Drift touched him, Megatron tensed. Then allowed himself to ease. Later, he will devour every line in this data-pad. For now, though, he feels overwhelmed and too tired to act as if he isn't unhappy.

"There are times that I wish they'd simply killed me. As much as I deserve this and worse, I wish they had extended me that small mercy," Megatron said.

"Sometimes the isolation feels as if it is more than I can bear."

[aurable]

Words hand cloying in the air like damp air just before a storm. Drift processes everything Megatron allows himself to admit as each syllable coils around the other and strangles him tighter and tighter. Not even in the better days at the height of the 'movement' when they could still tell themselves they were companions all woven together for their cause had Drift seen him like this. Back when Drift had a different name and a different face when he could look at Megatron and want to be let in.

The tremendous grief they share is undeniable, but Drift still can't cross those boundaries between them to know how to ease that pain. He stands in a silence that should shame him as he tries and fails to say anything that might help. Since coming here, Megatron had been the one always to have a word of encouragement or sharp-tongued reality checks. Drift had just given him a hard time at nearly every turn and struggled against the fact this grief was now an enduring part of him.

Instead of words, Drift just let his hands drift from Megatron's shoulder to wrap around his wrist gently. Squeezing firmly once, then twice if just to feel the living thrum of the wrist's thin fuel lines.

[flickerandfade]

That younger Megatron had never let anyone in. Even if he drew inspiration from Deadlock's ferocity and conviction, even if they had shared an intimacy, Megatron had never allowed himself to be vulnerable. After he had lost that close friend in Terminus, there had been no one else. Even Ultra Magnus had not been privy to his innermost thoughts. His quiet grief, his sparse vulnerability. The great weight of grief not just for his victims but for himself and for everything he could have been that weighed on his spark had never been fully bared. There had been glimpses of it, when Ravage had died. Nothing like this, though.

Never like this. Megatron could bear many tortures, but to have happiness, comradeship, a real chance of doing something good held in front of him before he began a slow descent into oblivion felt more crushing than any other pain in Megatron's long, long life.

As Drift touched him, Megatron sank. He didn't let himself drop to the floor, but he reached out, holding onto Drift as if he might anchor himself to the other mech in a desperate effort to avoid being crushed. The squeeze of Drift's hand reminded him that he was not alone. Even if Drift despised him, rightfully, he was still here. Megatron turned himself more fully towards the other, face drawn and weary. More so than Drift has ever seen him, most likely. His hand closed around one of Drift's and squeezed in return. He didn't have words. What could he say to this other mech, also grieving and alone? Apologize? His spark hummed within his chassis.

As vulnerable as Megatron has allowed himself to be tonight, he didn't know if he could stomach taking another step.

[aurable]

The ghost of Deadlock that still haunted Drift in his darker moments would not have been here now. That miserable creature would have seen Megatron's clear and present pain as only a neck lay bare asking for teeth. When they had been close, any perceived weakness would have only invited destruction. Now so far along in their impossibly long lives and both completely different people, Drift still asking himself if he hated Megatron, could they help one another. There should be some spark of self-reflection or more profound meaning for Drift to meditate on there. Instead, all he found was a hollow pit in his internals that left him feeling drained and starved in his misery.

"Here," Drift murmured as he tugged their joined hands, "I'll walk you back."

It wasn't a question, and it went unspoken that Drift meant taking Megatron back to the latter's room. To either be alone or be alone with Drift hovering nearby, pretending he was in any shape to deal with this. Either way, if one of them was going to shatter now, it may as well be in private.

[flickerandfade]

"I... Of course." Megatron replied in a fog. He wasn't sure quite what was happening, for some reason. Why he was allowing himself to be led by Drift of all people, he didn't know. Perhaps just the mere showing of kindness, the fact that he had been so utterly alone for so long made him easier to lead along. He stayed quiet, datapad in hand, as they turned out of the common area and back towards the cramped space that passed for Megatron's habsuite.

The door hummed open as it usually did and Megatron paused in the threshold, looked back at Drift. He didn't want to feel this alone. Knew that the gift was meant well, even if it summoned forth all these feelings.

"I am grateful," he said. "Really. It's very thoughtful of you to get me this. I'll be sure to read it all carefully." He hesitated, not sure of what came next. It was an unnerving feeling for him. Usually he felt secure, knew what had to happen or what he should do, but this was different. He wavered.

"...I don't want to keep you from the rest of the festivities," he said. "But if you were willing to spare me a little more of your time, I would appreciate the company."

[aurable]

"Small miracle I was even able to get my hand on a copy," Drift spoke quietly as if preparing for Megatron to be spooked by the slightest disturbance at a moment's notice. He didn't know if he was trying to appease Megatron or make some half-conscious effort in finding common ground when he added— "Lend me that when you're done?"

The truth was that Drift had never read any of the poetry Ambus had penned in his now lengthy career. Ratchet had been a casual fan, so any attempt to try had been too painful after losing him. Drift thinks now he could try and pick up something Ratchet had liked without falling to pieces. If just because he wouldn't be the only one hurting. A selfish thought, but Drift wasn't going to deny it. Neither he nor Megatron wanted to confront their grief alone, even if they would never say as much.

They're almost at the threshold that would lead them out of the party when Drift stops.

"I won't make you, but," He looks back at Megatron as they stand with their hands still loosely clasped together, "Sure you don't want to stick around, just people watch? You could think of it as watching a very loud and colorful aquarium of pleasantly intoxicated fish."

He offers a tentative smile that could almost be encouraging.

"And I was hoping I could get you tell me about that time on the Lost Light—did you and Ambus really manage to get Rodimus to wear hat?"

[flickerandfade]

"I would be happy to," Megatron replies to Drift's first request almost mechanically. He's still reeling from the crush of emotions that have washed over him in the last few minutes and it makes it hard to focus on much of anything. He pauses along with Drift, seems almost surprised when the other tries to entice him to stay. It's a foolish thing, he thinks. He hasn't been a social creature for a very long time.

Though the temptation of simply being around others is hard to ignore.

"... Very well," he says, as if reluctantly conceding to an absurd request. "I'll stay a little while longer. And yes, we did."