11: Holidays
A few years pass and despite Spike still not working up the courage to propose to his dragonness -because really, who else could she possibly belong to- life went on as usual. For better, or for worse. Take the chronicles of Gallus Gruff for example and his younger sibling. This one requires a bit of explaining really.
Gallus wasn’t quite sure, but somehow he felt holidays in Artisans were different than the ones back home in the Griffon Kingdoms. He’d never been a fan of the cold, winter being the worst of it, because really it was always so cold and the wind up from the mountains never helped.
But that wasn’t the worst of it, was it? Oh no, Gallus could handle cold but the windchill was always the least of his problems during the holidays given that every Blue Moon Festival -as they called it- was one of the only times griffons didn’t care about themselves for a change. Oh sure, they tried to be nice to each other all year ‘round, trying being the operative word. To her credit, Queen Gilda was trying to do away with tradition but it was hard to do away with centuries of tradition.
Holidays at his own home, calling them celebrations was probably stretching it a bit. More like warfare, possibly. It was always about getting each other the best gift and showing off said gift as soon as you got it. It was madness, chaos and to be honest Gallus would much rather spend time at a bar rather than get drafted. Of course, in Griffonstone not doing such was considered a sign of cowardice -or just out and out rudeness- and as much as Gallus would rather fold over and be some sort of civilian casualty, he didn’t have any place to go. And then there was the small matter of his sister.
Gabby, and to this day Gallus wasn’t sure how his younger sibling had turned out quite so chipper with his family involved. Oh sure, she always tries to put up a cheery face every Blue Moon Festival but it’s obvious the only one enjoying all that self-aggrandizing were her parents. If it weren’t for that, Gallus would have probably have flown the coop long ago. He also knew for a fact that as soon as she could, Gabby was probably going to emancipate herself. He’d seen her looking at the laws about such things when she thought nobody was listening.
This was just what it meant to be a Gruff in their family. It was a sad state of affairs to be sure, but as it stood right now Gallus and his sister would have to just put on their best faces for another year. ………..at least, that had been the plan until they’d received the invitation in the mail. It had been marked with a distinctive purple ribbon and smelt of small embers and almost in an instance Gallus had known who it was from.
It was obvious from the outset that holidays in the dragonlands were… remarkably different. Or maybe it was just holidays in one particular household that were remarkably different. Not that Gallus minded.
Or Gabby, from the looks of things.
“Ha!” the young hen crowed as she slammed a clawed fist on the table in front of her, cards clutched between her talons. “I win, pay up old boy!” she says in this stuffy oh so fake Trottingham style accent that nobody seems to bother to correct. Or could be bothered to correct, given the smile cast upon her beak that seemed to be infectiously infectious.
“Damn and blast, foiled again,” Byrd mutters, the inexplicably flying penguin forking over sweets to his all too young opponent. He grimaces. “...and here I thought the hummingbirds back home were well-trained.”
“This implies you trained them,” Gabby smirks victoriously. “So far, I’ve seen none of that experience tonight.”
A low “oooooh…” echoes around the room at the burn. Smolder, from her spot resting on the windowsill comments: “She’s got you there Sarge! Surely you can’t let this stand, you’ve got to claw your way back to victory! Go on, old boy!”
A series of loud raucous cheers filled the room as Gabby and Byrd go to battle once more. Except it wasn’t really a battle, because how could it be a battle if no blood was shed? No limbs were lost? No no, calling it a battle was incorrect. Gallus might have called it a slaughter maybe, given his younger nestmate’s track record so far. It was the good kind of slaughter really, one which put a smile on Gabby’s beak like the holidays were supposed to. If Gallus is smiling at all during this, he fervently denies this despite any questioning otherwise. He did have his reputation to keep up, but of course.
Hunter had been in the game, of course, because, of course, he had. The cheetah was never one not to pass up a challenge of any sort no matter how stupid it ultimately was. Bianca, of course, had decided not to join in. Which was probably for the best really, because everyone knew that magicians always cheated at things like poker. It was a known fact! And Gallus would totally argue this till Hell froze over because of his little experience with one traveling magician who fancied herself great and powerful. She was probably neither of these things Gallus reasoned, but she was a total cheat and braggart.
In the back of the room, Cinder stood in this absolutely ridiculous costume of a pointed stocking atop her head with her usual proclamation of: ‘Kiss the cook and die’ on her all too fluffy frilly apron. Nobody comments on the garment, and Gallus suspects the nasty glare Cinder threatened everyone with as soon as she walked in has something to do with this. He wasn’t sure, but it probably had something to do with it. Probably. Actually, everyone now that Gallus thought about it wasn’t wearing stockings correctly at all, everyone wearing them atop their heads in ridiculous manner.
Which again begged the question… why? Just why would you go to all the trouble to make yourself look like an absolute idiot all for the sake of one holiday?
Gallus is almost certain he knows the answer but decides not to voice his suspicions in case he ruined it. Gallus would like to be certain he thinks he knows how it goes in this household, but every time something new came along to surprise him. Take the sweaters, for instance. They were ugly beyond belief -not to mention completely flammable- but somehow nobody considers it a crime to wear them. In fact, it’s actually encouraged! He’d heard rumors of this so-called tradition but Gallus had never believed it. At least… not until now when he saw it for himself.
Gallus doesn’t mind, he isn’t sure why as normally he’d never be caught dead wearing such a ghastly thing but he strangely doesn’t mind. Maybe something was wrong with him, he wonders to himself. Maybe he’s finally gone insane, because spending time with the ones he surrounded himself with for friends would probably do that to anyone eventually. Did anyone know if they were insane, Gallus wonders. Did anyone ever truly ever know if they were insane?
In any event, Gallus was currently stuck here for the time being so he supposed he’d better make the most of it. And strangely -though Gallus would deny it if asked- he doesn’t really seem to mind.
Gallus looks back and sees his sister nearly crying with laughter at some dumb joke someone had told her, and almost smiles. No, he didn’t mind at all. Though he’s still on the fence on about the sweaters and wonders why dragons would even wear such stupid - and did he mention flammable- things. Dragons were often such prideful creatures really.
“Hey, Gallus. How’s it hangin’?” Smolder was the first one to notice his state and laid one of her claws on his shoulder. “Can ya believe this stuff? Lotta mush every time the Blue Moon festival comes round.”
Gallus whirls his head around to face her, trying very hard not to let out a totally not manly shriek of surprise. He catches his breath, the dragoness was like a goddamn ninja! “...How… how do you even know about that? I wasn’t aware Griffon traditions made their way out of the Griffon Kingdoms.”
“Griffon traditions? Gallus. Gallus…” she shakes her head and she playfully tousled the fur on his skull. “The Blue Moon festival’s also celebrated by dragons, ya big doofus. Didn’t ya know about that?”
“...Oh right, sorta this whole tradition sharing thing someone came up a while back, yeah I can totally see it now that you mention it,” Gallus mutters to himself bitterly. “...Trust me though, stick with the Festival of Flame or whatever you call it. Back home, holidays aren’t… well, they’re not fun.”
“Well, duh. Griffons aren’t all about the sappy-happy type stuff. They’re more into hoarding their gold and being miserable piles of meat and feathers.” Smolder, with wings flitting, casually explained. “I mean, yeah, the same could be said about us dragons, but we’ve still got a soft spot for the holidays. I mean, when else do you see us giving each other gifts?”
Somehow Gallus can’t quite imagine this family going out to hoard gold for the sake of hoarding, he thinks to himself as he watches Spyro. It just didn’t fit what he’d seen of this… this goofball so far. For Tiamat’s sake, he was wearing one of those completely stupid stockings atop his head. He wasn’t quite sure how it happened, but he’d managed to convince his adopted son to do the same. Actually, Gallus knew very well how it happened. Goodness knew Spike pretty much worshipped the ground his father walked on nowadays. And somehow, he knows from the small little ghost of smile cast upon Smolder’s face he knew the dragoness was completely lying when she said she wasn’t into this sort of thing.
“So, Beast Tamers,” Gallus remarks. “How does a holiday in the swamps go, really? No walking in the winter wonderlands, I imagine…” he drawls referring to the all too corny if not somewhat charming song being played over a radio somewhere in the household. The household, which he realizes for the first time, has a reason for being so large and having so many rooms. Spyro had a way of touching those he came across, really. He tries to suppress a smirk as he hears Nestor singing at the top of his lungs in another room just a few corridors away.
“Well, I assume that it goes just the same as a holiday everywhere else. Just… with a lot more slimy swamp juices.” Smolder tried to put into her own head what a holiday in the swamps would look like. Was it even possible for such messy places to have holidays like that? Given they were mostly inhabited by monsters? Okay, generally monsters of the Beast Maker’s own makings, but still… monsters. Monsters and totally flammable little huts built from timber and moss.
“Slimy swamp juices?” Gallus quirks an eyebrow before he deadpans: “Hardly illiterate Smol.”
“Well, what would you call ‘em?” Smolder chided, putting her claws by her hips. She blinks for a moment before she realizes what Gallus had said. “...and HEY! Only one who gets to call me little pet names is my…”
She trails off with an uncharacteristic stutter and blushes. Gallus smirks again. “Your boyfriend?” he finishes.
“Y-you… Baka!” Smolder’s cheeks turned a bright hue of red as she threw her arms down. “He’s the only one who gets to know my pet name!”
“...I wasn’t aware you were interested in things like Neighpon anime,” Gallus remarks and once again the victory is his.
“Nngh…” Smolder couldn’t bear to say anymore. She was embarrassed enough as it was. “Fine. Call me by that name if you want.”
“Who would I be to steal away your drakefriend’s personal cutesy wutesy nickname for you?” Gallus says in response nearly gagging. “You just have a candy cane stuck up your bright orange scaly butt, if you ask me!”
“Hey! Nobody has any candy canes stuck up in any of their places!” Gabby helpfully chimes in to hopefully keep the halls from being decked any more red.
“Please tell me that’s not the way you’re describing it, Gabs.” Gallus shivered.
“You described it that way first, so you have nobody but yourself to blame,” Gabby remarks. “Just sayin’.”
Smolder smirks, and her eyes are twinkling in amusement. She smirks that damnable smirk and says: “Your sister’s got a point, you know. You brought that upon yourself.”
Gallus laughs awkwardly and coughs out: “...so how about that eggnog huh? Brings a bit of spirit to the household, and if you ask me the only kind of spirit allowed should be the kind you drink!”
“Oh please, nobody sane would allow you anywhere near the eggnog, not after that last fiasco which involved you being thrown out on your feathered butt,” Spike says in passing. “Just sayin’.”
“Hey, nobody insults these good looks and lives to tell the tale!” Gallus remarks before gesturing to himself in exaggerated comical fashion. “I mean…. All of this? It’s only something that comes around every once in a generation!”
“...and here I thought it was only Smolder who had the ego…” Spike very wisely mutters under his breath. Gabby fights back a snigger and a little snort at this. How unladylike, Gallus muses, but then again nobody had ever called his sister a lady really. Vaguely, he imagines in some other life his sister and Spike dating. He shares a look with Smolder and figures out very quickly his friend is thinking the same thing. The orange dragoness is clearly displeased by the notion.
“...Oh, bitten by the green-eyed monster Smolder?” Gallus inquires being very careful about the whole thing. A wise decision if there ever was one, given Smolder’s rages were now nigh legendary.
“...Oh shut up,” she mumbles under her breath. “Spike knows by now that if he even thinks of looking at another dragoness, I’d dump his ass in a second.”
“Not like that’s gonna happen. I mean, you and Spike get along like a village on fire…” Gallus looked out at Spike, who was busy with Spyro partaking in the smells of the food stands wafting up from outside.
“Got that damn right,” Smolder smirks. “But enough about me. What about you? I mean, surely there’s some fine hen out there who wants… oh, how did you put it? “All of this?”, isn’t that how you put it?”
She smirks victoriously when she sees Gallus turn into a stuttering mess. Finally, the tables had been turned.
“W-Well… I-I… Uh… Yeah, you know how it is!” the normally confident half bird half lion stammers out, cursing himself for his loss of dignity.
“Yes, I think I do,” Smolder remarks. “...wait, wasn’t there this hippogriff I saw you eyeing a few months ago? Not sure how half bird, half horse, half fish works out, but there you have it. I swear I saw you making googly eyes at her.”
“It’s goo goo eyes…” Gallus mumbles.
“Whatevs,” Smolder waves him off. “You still can’t deny any of it, can you?”
Gallus huffs and crosses his arms. “...she’s called Silverstream and for the record, she’s a very nice girl. Too nice, actually.”
“Too nice?” Smolder asks in confusion. “...how is that a problem? ...Oh, I see, you like bold women, right? Chain-smoking greaser tough girl assholes? Is that it?”
“No, it’s not that,” Gallus continues to mumble uncharacteristically shy. He swears to himself under his breath, goddamnit Smolder. Couldn’t you have left this well enough alone instead of being your nosey self? Seriously! He already knew one gossipy pushy type with his sister, he didn’t need to know another! “It’s… It’s just…”
“Oh, I see…” Smolder says. “You’re worried about the poor boy from a poor family thing, aren’t you? Or you being too much of a bad boy for her, and you being banned from her household in an instance as soon as you step through the door. You and your whole leather jacket greaser routine.”
Gallus goes silent and Smolder knows -damn her, Gallus thinks to himself again- that she’s hit the nail on the head.
“Well, if all else fails you could just use your status as Spike’s brother in arms and that might win a few approvals, really,” Smolder shrugs and Gallus scowls at her. “Sheesh, just trying to lighten the mood here, really… But seriously, I don’t think wealth and status matter much to a girl if she likes you enough.”
And here Gallus stares. “...and here I didn’t think you had it in you to be smart…” he mumbles after a long silence.
“What? I’m not a complete dolt,” Smolder says smacking him around the back of the head. “...you on the other hand, featherbrain…”
“Cliche comeback book, page 87?” Gallus retorted.
“Like I haven’t heard that one before…” Smolder remarks trimming her claws. “...Okay, I lied, that is a first time for me with that particular remark. Seriously, you’re set for this hippogriff girl. Girls like a funnyman, really.”
“Y-You think so?” Gallus stammers out again. “...Most creatures I know don’t find my jokes all that funny…”
“...then what was that night in the comedy club eh?” Smolder asks inquiringly -eyebrow raised- clearly in no mood for his shit tonight. “Seriously, perk up featherbrain. It’s the holidays, and I’m pretty sure frowns are far from welcome. Especially in this household, really.”
She gestures to the living room and laughter echoes from out of it. Spyro probably making some stupid face or doing some dumb impersonation, and Gallus can see it now. Cinder shaking her head in the background and Nestor laughing uproariously and then trying to outdo his son. If there’s a warm flutter in his heart, Gallus fervently denies such a thing exists. Then he hears a giggle, and that flutter returns threefold. Gabby, of course. Who else could make such merry noises, and who else deserved to make them given Gruff family holidays where everyone was trying not to look at the other in anything other than mild irritation.
“Your family sucks,” Smolder says after a long silence. “Like, they suck balls.”
And Gallus fights back a snort. “...Yeah, the suckage is major.”
“And this grandpa of yours, much as I love to show respect for my elders,” Smolder goes on and Gallus has to fight back a snort -because when did Smolder ever show respect for anyone?- before the laughter returns in earnest at her next statement. “He can go just eat a bag of dicks. A big fat one.”
“And how big do ya want each one?” Gallus smirked snarkily. Smolder blinks for a moment, before she bursts out laughing clutching her sides. Of course, the laughter doesn’t stop when she sees what Gabby and Spyro are up to.
“You’re going down, old man!” Gabby says, clearly not content with beating Byrd tonight. She’s wearing the most bewildering of things, gag spectacles. Probably some gift someone had handed her.
“Old?” Spyro mouths to a giggling -though she’d totally deny this- Cinder. “...I’m not old, am I?”
Cinder says nothing and Spyro and Gabby and now Spike continue their little game.
“You might say it’s a spec-ality of hers!” Spike jokes. “Well, at least it’s not a contact sport!”
“Oh…” Smolder says in realization. Puns, because, of course, what else would it be? Her goofy, dorky boyfriend and his father would but of course love the so-called ‘art’ of puns. And Gabby, being the child she was, would enjoy them too.
“The bread, at yeast was good tonight,” Spyro says to Cinder who could only roll her eyes good-naturedly. “Remind me to thank your mother.”
“Oh, okay, that pun was just crummy,” Spike grumbled. “You can do better.”
“What, you want me to drive this humor stale?” Spyro snorts and Gallus laughs as well. The holidays in this household were definitely different. They were full of poor jokes and high spirits -in every sense of the word- and tasteless sweaters and so many other things. They were full of ludicrous party games and corny music and half-baked humor -oh good god, now he was doing it- that would probably get stale in a week at any other household.
Raucous spirits reigned in this household and Gallus couldn’t help but love it.
“Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock
Jingle bells chime in jingle bell time
Dancin' and prancin' in Jingle Bell Square
In the frosty air
What a bright time, it's the right time
To rock the night away…” Came a drunken holler as Nestor led the household in a chorus raising his glass of eggnog to the ceiling. Well, okay, Gallus corrected himself. He loved some of it. Nestor’s singing voice left a bit to be desired.
“It’s loud…” Gallus mutters and shares a look with Gabby who knows what he really means.
“I can imagine Grandpa Gruff is… less than pleased with us skimping out on the Blue Moon Festival this year,” Gabby utters. She still wore those gag glasses, because of course, she still would. Gallus can’t find it in himself to tell her she looks utterly ridiculous.
“Ah, yes, well…” Gallus remarks. “He can sit and stew this year. We’ll deal with his disapproving looks later, eh?”
A barrel of gray feathers and fur nearly bombard him and soft sniffles and sobs are heard. The gag glasses lay forgotten on the floor. Gallus -not really the best at displaying affection after all- could only awkwardly drape a wing around his nestmate. If anyone sees this little scene, they decline to comment. Maybe the downright dangerous look Gallus shoots has something to do with it. Maybe. Gabby finally looks up at him and wipes away her tears, pleased to see her brother is united with her in opposing their family. Gallus only awkwardly strokes her head feathers and gestures back to the party, before this could get any more awkward than it already was.
“....My grandfather isn’t the best example of griffon society,” here Gallus says to Spike and his inquiring look.
“...Ever think about, you know, emancipation?” Spike murmurs under his breath.
“Trust me, I’ve been thinking about it, more than a few times in fact. Me and my sister,” Gallus replies in turn. “...But really, this isn’t the time or place for such things really. Just… just for tonight, I’d like to forget about my family.”
Spike nods, though his look tells Gallus that they aren’t quite done with this. Because, of course, they weren’t. Gallus, strangely, wouldn’t have it any other way. He did choose Spike as a friend because he knew the little drake would always have his back, and Gallus would always have his.
“Now, about your dragonessfriend,” Gallus says with a grin as here he turns to Spike. “When you going to pop the question? Or are you going to keep dancing around her for the next few decades?”
“Y-Yes well, dragons do live for a long time, centuries with some of them! We still have a while yet,” Spike stutters out. “My dad was unusual, really, with how he courted my mom. Love at first sight? It’s an unusual thing.”
“...Suit yourself, but if you ask me? I think that’s what it is with you and Smolder,” Gallus shrugs. “Just saying. I personally think you’re just chicken, really! So, if you live for centuries or just for decades, love is love. I know this sounds that dreaded of things -mushy- coming from me, but you really like her don’t you? And you made that little promise didn’t you?”
Here they see Smolder eying them suspiciously, and Spike quickly motions for Gallus to silence himself. Gallus snorts and just joins in the festivities even as Garble walks in the door. Someday...
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Nice song references throughout, especially the non Christmas ones. Personally I think it will be Smolder who will propose to Spike. She knows what she wants and she will move when she is ready.
Great to see some updates. I'm happy with some holiday fun. Great job. I hope maybe another chapter will be up before the end of the year. Best of luck. I like how you references Silverstream. Also it was fun to see Spike and Spyro getting along as well as Spike and Smolder are getting closer.
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Yeah, this chapter was mostly an experiment to get me back in the swing of things, I'm not entirely sure if I'm happy with it really. Mind you, if it gives you that warm and fluffy feeling then... well, happy days. Mind you, I did like writing from Gallus' perspective for once, instead of writing from Spike/Spyro/Cinder's perspectives, really was a fun little thing.
Fair warning, the chapters will probably get shorter -maybe- as we reach the end of the story, and I do have a few shocking events planned so... (Well, obviously I won't tell you what they are) but prepare to get your world rocked.
Well no one can say that Spike and Smolder are rushing into things. That’s one of the biggest reasons many relationships fail.