Father Christmas (
father_chris) wrote2014-11-26 09:24 pm
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It's a bloomin' cold evening.
But some blasted reindeer fawn decided to bolt right through the bar out the back, and flying reindeer poo can be extremely messy.
"Donna! Get yer bloomin' arse back on the ground." he calls to the reindeer sitting in a nearby tree.
The reindeer chews a pine cone contemplatively.
But some blasted reindeer fawn decided to bolt right through the bar out the back, and flying reindeer poo can be extremely messy.
"Donna! Get yer bloomin' arse back on the ground." he calls to the reindeer sitting in a nearby tree.
The reindeer chews a pine cone contemplatively.
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The light vanishes.
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Chris doesn't like the look of it. Aware of his not-so-impressive levels of magical power outside of the twelve days of Christmas, he approaches with caution.
"Hello?"
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Chris picks up a branch, just in case it's a bear or something, and runs a hand over it, freezing the end.
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Chris turns around.
"Who are you?" he repeats.
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His cry is quickly muffled, he flings the branch back towards the being, but it just goes into the garden, and sets off a flurry of snow.
But then his arms are covered and he ends up with a face full of his own snow.
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It drags the sack with Chris in it towards the tree it had come from.
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The reindeer follows for a moment, and then flies up to the roof for safety.
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Darkness.
Briefly, there is a face in the moon, and a far-away rumbling hum lingering over the forest.