❝ It’s cold outside… ❞ Winnie mumbled softly as he was wrapped up in a rather huge blanket, a small sleepy smile spreading across his face as he came behind the other to wrap his arms around Yerin’s waist. In one pawed hand, he held up a pink box. Inside was a circlet made of silver, petals and flowers each decorated and well made by his own two hands. It was meant to be the first flower crown he made for her, even if it was different now. ❝ Merry Christmas, my love. ❞
as the morning frost crystaled white at their windows, she knelt at the hearth to feed the flames. A cold cottage did not a happy cat spirit make, after all – but she did all in her mortal power to make their home as toasty as could be with doubled rugs and curtains. At the sound of the door creaking behind her, she heard a familiar little grumble grouse cutely; she craned back to find her husband in usual sleepy bedhead. With a thick quilted trail at his heels, he crossed the floorboard like kings of old, greeted by their court of dancing shadows from crackling ember.
Yerin rose to meet him as his paws fell to greet her, returning to cradle at her waist. She kissed his cheek good morning and before she could even begin speaking of toast & tea, Winnie caught her unawares with his present – ever one to pounce on opportunity. Packaging was carefully set aside at the mantel as she slowly unveiled the gift … a marvel and memento all at once. Fingers sifted and revered the jewelry over in her palms as she recognized the twinkling blooms in a trice, the moment of their meeting symbolically dipped and forever sealed in silver. Winnie’s kind gesture had been promptly returned with blueberries, but their language of favor & gratitude continued many times over … grilled fish divvy between tales of adventure.
The band almost seemed to emit light itself as it caught glimmers spangled from the flames and cast them anew to the walls. She was ennobled by possession as Winnie placed it above her temples; she caught his paws and kissed them warm again. ❝ It’s wonderful … I’ll treasure it always. Thank you. ❞ While in the past fine jewelry often felt out of place in her array, this piece that had been uniquely fired and twisted and polished just for her fell home at her brow.
His gift would come in a moment – a leather satchel she had ( over several courses at a local shop ) prudently sanded, beveled, and stitched, then embossed with his name. For now, she would greedily take another present in the form of his attention, his warmth. Fire light glistered at her new circlet as she leaned in, one hand rising to cup his cheek as she kissed him deep – a stamp to mark another sweet memory of theirs, in what would undoubtedly be an endless history. ❝ Merry Christmas, dear heart. ❞