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 Posted: Tue Dec 16, 2025 5:54 am
Ria jogged through the cold December air. Virginia was unfortunately a bit colder than Fresno in the winter, and muggier in summer. So a late night sprint to the nearest craft store to take advantage of an unexpected surplus in her monthly bonus wasn't exactly pleasant. But, hey, if she could actually afford to get supplies to make herself a few Christmas decorations while taking a break from studying, the college student would take it.
Fortunately, she already had a few more specifically New Mexican decorations her mother had sent over that couldn't be found outside of New Mexico, which was nice. Ria's mother was New Mexican, and had continued her New Mexican Christmas traditions throughout Ria's childhood.
Ristras of chile peppers hung in her apartment, already a rich crimson, and Tupperware of bizcochitos and tamales filled her fridge. There was even a small container of mole sauce for whatever meat she chose to apply it to. Pinon logs weren't an option, as she didn't have a fireplace, but there were some sprigs of pinon that she'd hung up alongside the ristras, filling the apartment with their pleasant smell.
All that was really left were poinsettias, a wreath (decorated with even more poinsettias), and some candles and paper bags for farolitos. A tree wasn't in the offing at this time, but Ria could afford to slap together a wreath and farolitos, and bring in some poinsettias. It wasn't much, but it would make the apartment feel very Christmassy.
Assuming she could get to Michael's before it closed.
Ria started jogging faster, unaware that her progress was marked with hunger.
Eyes the color of candle flames, splashed with a floral pattern across the irises, watched her go, and growled with a voice like the creaking of ice before it began to lumber after the teenager, who was unaware that she was not going to succeed in making it to Michael's before it closed for the evening.
Not if the creature that began to pursue her with long, loping strides had anything to do with it.
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Posted: Tue Dec 16, 2025 6:27 pm
Ria finally slowed to a stop at the crosswalk. Just another block, and she'd get in before closing. She had 15 minutes. It was do-able.
And then she felt snowflakes land on her nose.
Snow? But it was a clear sky tonight, there was no snow on the forecast--
Ria looked up into the candle-bright eyes of what looked like a yeti made entirely of snow and ice, except for its eyes, which reminded her of nothing so much than a blown-glass ball filled with a hungry fire. Oh. It was shedding snow. And drooling ice.
Well, if that didn't beat all--
Ria danced out of the way as the weird yeti attempted to snatch her.
The yeti whirled around and roared in a voice like an avalanche. Behind it, the beeping of the crosswalk signal told her that she was missing her chance to cross the street. Just because it was a monster, and it wanted...something. Probably something she had zero interest in giving it.
Ria tried to circle around it and cross the street, in the vain hope that it would follow, and get hit by a car for its troubles.
None such luck. The abominable snowman swung out its arms, trying to snatch her again, mostly succeeding in blocking off her preferred escape route.
Ria sprinted toward the next crosswalk over. If necessary, she was going to jaywalk. It was quiet enough. She might not get run over this late in the evening.
Yeah. And pigs had evolved wings to avoid being turned into chorizo.
Ria dashed and slammed her hand desperately into the crosswalk button.
Instead, her hand slammed into wood, and, instinctively, her fingers curled around the wood, not stopping to think of the ramifications of a wooden object appearing between her questing fingers and the button.
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Posted: Tue Dec 16, 2025 6:50 pm
Light flared around her, the colors of fire, of fall leaves, of all the shades of marigold, and then receded.
Lovely fabrics rested on her skin, linen so fine it wicked away the sweat on her skin immediately, sleek brocades, soft leathers, and even delicate lace. Her heels reported that they were no longer in running shoes, but instead in knee-high boots that flexed easily as she shifted her weight in surprise. Jewelry of gold and pearls wrapped themselves around waist and throat, with unfamiliar earrings at her earlobes, and a hat. She hadn't been wearing a hat. She also hadn't been carrying a bow.
She grinned, doffing her chapeau, decked out in a large mass of fluffy feathers.
"Oh, chico, you are going to regret getting between a girl and her Christmas shopping," she said, bowing to the yet--no, youma. It was a youma. And she? She was...
"You don't deserve this honor, but I want you to know who kicked your a**, Señor Snowman," she said with an almost vicious glee. "I'm Fontainebleau, and I'm here to tell you that if you want to go chasing girls, you don't get them by drooling ice on them." The Page of Venus reached to tug her bowstring back, expecting an arrow of some kind of energy to materialize...only for nothing to happen. The bow simply creaked ominously in her hand.
Oh. Well. Complication. Bow unusable. Someone was getting words about magical knights not being able to fight monsters upon first Awakening.
Well. Frick. What was a poor, defenseless page to do--
It wasn't elegant, but it'd still teach the youma to not try to eat adorable little pages.
Stuffing her bow through her pearl belt, Fontainebleau bent down to tug off one boot, leaving one silk stocking-ed foot to hover awkwardly above the cold, damp pavement.
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Posted: Tue Dec 16, 2025 7:03 pm
The youma watched in confusion. The starseed had gone from being tasty and defenseless to still being tasty, just also angry and violent. This wasn't in the script. This was downright rude.
Offended, it roared.
Only to get the heel of a boot slammed through its snowy mandible.
Blinking in surprise, the youma looked down, and saw the powdered remains of its jaw on the ground.
Oh. Oh that was so not okay.
It looked up in time to get the boot slamming back through its eye sockets, at which point, it rather lost track of what was going on, and just settled for screaming and flailing, even as its legs were aggressively kicked out from under it. For a given value of "out from under it."
Fontainebleau hopped a little, repeatedly slamming her boot through the youma's head, as her stocking-ed foot and her still-booted foot both took turns kicking through the snow of the youma's legs, covering the pavement with powdery snow, destabilizing the youma, and giving the angry page cold, wet toes, which only made her more irate at how aggressively the youma had just ruined her evening.
The slam of the boot through the eyes dislodged a pair of eyes that appeared to be made of Christmas tree ornaments with flames inside. As the glass balls impacted the pavement, they shattered, sending a spray of shards around them, and through the youma, though Fontainebleau covered herself well enough to not get any shards anywhere sensitive. The little twin flames that had lit the eyes from inside were immediately snuffed out in the cold air, and the youma flailed sightlessly, even as Fontainebleau continued kicking it to pieces and repeatedly hitting it with her boot.
As the last bit of powdered snow landed on the pavement, the page sighed in irritation, and proceeded to get her boot back on.
Whereupon she glanced around, and spotted the time on a bank.
Oh.
Nooo.
Michael's had closed five minutes ago.
If she hadn't already kicked and beat the youma to pieces, she would have done it again. As it was, there was nothing for it, but to stalk back to her apartment in soggy stockings, fix up a cup of champurrado, dry and thaw her toes, and try to figure out what the heck was going on, and what her next steps would be.
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