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“Me first! Me first! I want to write my letter first!”
Poemi’s ecstatic voice filled the space between the gathered group, her hand eagerly reaching for a sheet of paper held in her father’s hands.
Loosening his grip on the colorful sheets, Ivlis allowed her to pluck one from the pile. Trying to tell her no was always a sketchy move, and in her enthusiasm, she could very well destroy the whole stack. It was simply better to let her have first pick. Besides, it wasn’t like his other offspring was as rough.
“Easy, Poemi,” Ivlis admonished as she plopped into her designated spot. Seated around a coffee table in the main annex, the flame demon, his associate, and his children sat atop the ornate rug and cushions stationed around the living space. In many ways, it was nice having them together in this manner. After all, Ivlis wasn’t always granted the opportunity to spend quality time with his children. Between work and a certain nameless someone, he was always tied up in one fashion or another. These silly little traditions actually allotted them time together before they headed to bed.
“Poemi, relax, man,” Emalf chided. “You’re gonna break the crayons.” He held up a clawed hand as if to reach for the strewn about wax, though he reneged on completing the action. Putting his hand in the fray would only result in being bitten.
Poemi’s eyebrows knit tightly together, her focus on the paper in front of her, a pink crayon held tightly in her grasp. “Hush, Emalf,” she hissed. “I’m trying to concentrate. It has to be PERFECT.”
Emalf retracted his hand, glancing at his lord for some sort of assistance, though Ivlis simply shrugged. It wasn’t like they could do much to quell the girl’s excitement anyway. After all, Christmas had become part of their lives thanks to that previously mentioned unnamed someone. At the prospect of presents, the children desired a Christmas of their very own. Obliging – albeit it reluctantly – Ivlis did his best to make things a bit more “festive.” Of course, decorations were minimal, and trees and foliage were not exactly abundant in their heated environment. That aside, the one constant feature of this supposed holiday was of a man dressed in red.
Tonight, having procured the necessary items, Ivlis called his son and daughter to the foyer, instructing them to write their final letters to “Santa.” A few trinkets and toys had already been secured, yet any last minute requests would help sell the concept.
In Ivlis’ opinion, it was unnecessary and troublesome. On the other hand, he couldn’t deny the warmth in his chest seeing his children happy.
Well, at least Poemi seemed to be.
While Emalf did his best to spell more complicated words according to Poemi’s demands, the father glanced at the boy beside him. Seated on the cushion directly next to him, Licorice simply watched the exchange, not reaching for his own paper or writing instrument. Ivlis’ brow quirked. Was something the matter? Licorice normally didn’t look so… forlorn, especially when gifts were involved.
Placing the stack atop the table – mindful to separate a few from Poemi’s greedy hands – Ivlis hunched over, looking into his son’s face.
“What’s the matter, Licorice? Do you not feel well?”
Upon hearing his mother, Licorice seemed to snap from his supposed daze. Large golden eyes that matched his own stared back at him, pure adoration shining in them. Ever since his birth, accepting such affection had been quite the transition. Yes, Poemi gave him hugs and asked for his time, yet she was a bit older. Licorice’s brand of love bordered on utter devotion. Even now, it still made Ivlis a bit squeamish. However, seeing how much his son genuinely cared for him always brightened the flame devil’s spirits. Nevertheless, despite the lad’s gleaming eyes, something else lurked beneath the surface.
With Ivlis’ gaze solely on him, Licorice shrunk into himself, shyly whispering, “I’m sorry for worrying you, Mama. I’m okay.”
It wasn't the most reassuring answer. If anything, it just raised more concerns. Licorice always beamed having his attention, yet now he seemed almost… embarrassed. Ivlis’ lips pursed into a thin line, uncertain whether to push the issue or leave it be. All the same, something was clearing bothering the boy, and he wasn’t going to let it go so easily, especially if he was hurt.
Casting a sideways glance at Emalf and Poemi, Ivlis let out a sigh of relief. Neither of them seemed to notice his little chat with Licorice. It was better this way; less hands on the situation. Granted, he didn’t exactly like being seen as a caregiver - he was a devil, after all - though he supposed it was normal at this point in time. Fatherhood – and motherhood – were roles the devil would happily bear.
Grabbing a nearby sheet, Ivlis slid it in front of his son. “It’s fine, Lico,” he reassured. “It’s just not like you to not write your letter to Santa.”
The boy visibly bristled at the name, causing Ivlis to pause. Had he said something wrong? Why was Licorice so tense? With instinct kicking in, Ivlis softly pursued the reason behind Licorice’s mysterious actions. “Licorice, tell me the truth. What’s on your mind?”
Now it was Licorice’s turn for his lips to purse. He glanced down at his lap where his hands sat balled atop them. He was clearly distressed, yet hearing his mother ask for honesty, he readily complied. “Is….” He trailed off, gathering the courage to ask the looming question he’d been holding in since last night. “Is Santa a bad man?”
Ivlis blinked a few times, uncertain if he’d actually heard correctly or not. What did that mean? Weeks ago when they made their first list, he’d been more than happy to do so, wonder sparking in those sunset-colored eyes. Now he was asking if the man he had happily wrote to was somehow evil?
Once more ascertaining that Poemi and Emalf were not eavesdropping – Poemi having moved onto drawing random pictures and barking orders at Emalf – Ivlis questioned Licorice. “Why are you asking such a thing?” He tried to keep his tone soft, his words level. However, old, gruff habits always had a way of sneaking in. Grimacing, Ivlis placed a scaled hand atop Licorice’s own in a soothing gesture. The boy looked up, a faint shimmer still in his eyes. Smiling gently, Ivlis restated, “You can tell me anything, Licorice.”
With mother’s reassurance in place, Licorice’s lips parted before slowly closing. He lowered his head, small features twisting as if ashamed of something. “I….”
With how he was acting, Ivlis’ concern only grew. “What is it, Licorice? Tell me.”
Finally – after what felt like minutes on end – Licorice slid his hand from beneath Ivlis’ claw. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he looked up, waiting for Ivlis to lean in and lend him his ear. With his mother in position, Licorice whispered, “I saw Santa kissing you, Mama.”
For a moment, time stood still, and Ivlis’ head buzzed. Licorice had seen… what? The sentence itself was preposterous –
That was until Ivlis recalled last night.
Realization immediately dawned on him, and his head spun. His cheeks warmed, and his lips flapped.
Damn it all! It was always Satanick’s fault!
Upon finding out that his beloved Buri was celebrating the holiday he’d so graciously informed him about, Satanick had to make a big deal out of it. Of course, words were one thing, but actions spoke much louder. So, like any upstanding purveyor of fun, Satanick had graciously surprised his beloved with an exclusive visit from “Santa” himself. Decked out in a suit and hat, he manifested himself into Ivlis’ bedroom – an commonly shameful occurrence. However, to think Licorice had seen them kiss….
Ivlis’ heart plummeted at the implications that he could have seen something much more horrifying than a kiss!
He had to get to the bottom of this.
Straightening up, he tried to keep his composure as he rose to his feet, extending his hand to Licorice. “C – Come with me, Lico.”
Poemi continuously preoccupied herself, though Emalf looked towards his leader. Upon seeing his boss’ expression, he immediately averted his gaze. Dealing with Poemi’s antics were far more suitable than whatever the devil had going on.
Finally, Licorice rose and slid his hand into Ivlis’ own. Cheeks growing hotter by the second, Ivlis walked out of the room as quietly and nonchalantly as possible. He did not need everyone knowing such a personal thing. Hell, it was bad enough Licorice knew!
Rounding the corner, Ivlis walked hand in hand with his son until they were halfway down the corridor. That should be plenty of distance away from prying ears. All the while, Licorice’s gaze hadn’t left Ivlis’ face, large eyes filled with confusion. Before he could formulate his next words, he stopped in his tracks when Ivlis abruptly did. Turning to face his child, Ivlis dropped to his knees. Placing his hands atop his shoulders, he looked Licorice directly in the eyes, a serious yet nervous atmosphere filling the air.
The flame devil attempted to keep his voice from cracking. “Licorice, I need you to tell me what else you saw. It’s very, very important.”
Worried he had upset his mother, Licorice’s bottom lip quivered, eyes glossing over as he held back tears. “I – I’m sorry, Mama. I – I had another bad dream last night. I came to find you, but you didn’t answer. So, I… opened the door even though you told me never to enter without permission." He hung his head, voice low. "That’s – That’s when I saw Santa k – kissing you.”
Well, that at least explained it, but still!
“Then what happened?” Ivlis pressed. His features eased a bit, though he refused to relax until he knew for certain that Licorice’s innocence hadn’t been tainted.
“I – I went back to bed,” the boy stuttered. “It's not good seeing Santa or your wishes won’t come true, so I went back to bed and tried to not think about him.”
Thank goodness.
Ivlis’ shoulders drooped as the tension he’d been holding finally released. He hung his head, thanking the deities that nothing unsavory had been witnessed. Raising his head, he met Licorice’s expectant, trembling gaze. Right – he had to rectify this.
Wrapping his arms around his son, Ivlis pulled him into an embrace, cradling the back of his head. Letting out a deep sigh, he breathed, “Thank you for telling me, Lico.”
The boy’s readily reciprocated the hug, burying his face in his mother's shoulder. For a moment, the two remained as such, each calming their own nerves for highly different reasons. Eventually, Ivlis released Licorice, once more putting his hands on his shoulders. Staring into his face, he questioned, “Are you okay, Lico?”
His cheeks were a bit red, though the glassy look in his eyes had diminished. Glad he was no longer on the verge of tears, Ivlis reached up, patting his head. The action brightened the boy’s face even more, and he visibly returned to his usual self. A child's resilience was truly outstanding.
Nodding in confirmation, Licorice declared, “I’m okay, Mama. I promise. I just….” He trailed off again, gaze downcast before reestablishing eye contact. “I just don’t know if Santa is a good guy or not. He was kissing you. He’s not supposed to, right?”
Of all the days Licorice had come looking for him, of all the nights that blasted Satanick had come for a visit – it had to be that specific one for such a specific occasion. The gears in Ivlis’ brain simultaneously spun and stuck, unsure what direction to even move in. He couldn’t let Licorice’s belief in Santa be tarnished so quickly, nor could he admit that it was his father dressed up; either option was going to leave a bad impression. Truthfully, any line of reasoning would. Ivlis' throat tightened as if to hold back any potential words from slipping out.
What was he supposed to say? What could he possibly say to make this uncomfortable situation cease?
“Mama? Are you okay?” Licorice tilted his head, his ever-attentive attitude once more in place.
Fuck – he had to think of something.
“I… I invited him.”
Oh, that was so much worse. The moment Ivlis spouted it out, he instantly regretted them, his brain screaming a string of profanities. How was he supposed to explain thi – ?
Licorice’s eyes widened, the sparkles in them practically visible. “Really?” he exclaimed. “Mama, you know Santa?”
Everyone always said he was an airhead – now he was starting to believe it with such a shoddily produced excuse. All the same, Ivlis continued the little white lie. “Yeah… kind of.”
Licorice could barely contain his excitement, pressing in closer, eager to hear more. “That’s so cool, Mama! I didn’t know you knew him!”
Panicked that the others would hear, Ivlis placed a hand gently over Licorice’s mouth, thankful the scales lining his hands didn't persist on his palms. Raising his other hand, he placed a finger to his lips. “Shh, it’s our secret. Okay?” he whispered.
The lad’s enlarged eyes were so huge Ivlis feared they’d pop out of his head. However, he earnestly nodded in agreement. Once Ivlis slid his hand off, Licorice raised a finger to his lips in solidarity. “It’s okay, Mama. I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”
The prospect of having a secret shared only between them seemed to have distracted Licorice from his initial grief over Santa being evil or not. It was such poor, naive reasoning.
It was pure.
Smiling softly, Ivlis ruffled Licorice’s hair before standing upright. Extending his hand once more, he declared, “Let’s go finish that letter. We don’t want Poemi taking all the paper.”
With his mood much merrier than it had been only minutes ago, Licorice happily bounded forward alongside his mother’s lengthy stride. Finally inhaling a much needed breath, Ivlis sighed.
A child’s innocence was something fragile, and he dare not let Licorice’s break so easily. If he had to believe his mother knew Santa, so be it.
At least he was no longer questioning why they’d been kissing. Truthfully, he didn't know whether that was a good thing or not. Either way, Ivlis would be grateful for this bizarre miracle.