#the night before...

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Undertale auapril day-10 Moon

"It's 10PM, do you know where your children are?"

Ouroborostale belongs to- me

Auapril prompts by @undertale-aupril

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It was the night before Starlight, and a certain Desperado had a deadline to make before dawn. He sprinted with long, bold strides through the icy streets of Ishgard, surefooted as a bounding deer and equally as graceful jumping from the unfinished foundations that littered the Brume to make it down to street level.

Being out this late was not his first choice. Even for Coerthas it was damn cold but he somehow managed to break a sweat despite the bitter chill that nipped his cheeks into a crimson as deep as the checkered cloth at his throat. He was making good time, arriving at the end of an unlit street before the first pale beams of light started stretching across the dark and starry night. Illuminated by the ethereal glow of the sky he could make out the old, rickety manor.

He’d been casing it for the better part of a week. It clearly stemmed from old money but had fallen into a creeping state of disrepair with the ticking of Althyk’s clock. Lawrence was diligent, and in his time surveying he’d learned the general lay out of the building. He knew who came and went. He knew how many heads resided within and where they slept. When they went to bed and when they woke up. Where the important things would be kept. He even knew where they put the milk and cookies.

The outlaw Parolee had been keeping his head low since his arrest, avoiding his usual crimes (if one did not count his brief overture liberating over a half dozen, under-loved dogs from their unappreciative owners, or the occasional break-ins to several churches in the area as particularly criminal). He couldn’t let this one slide though, and so he’d donned his leathers and went to work.

These old buildings rarely withstood the test of time without sufficient upkeep, he knew the owners likely hadn’t fixed the window latch on the second floor leading into what might have been an office. Thus, Roman shouldered the large knapsack and made his way up the gutter pipe before slipping into the manor. A flurry of snow blew in behind his lanky figure, ushering him in bag and all. He made his way downstairs slowly to avoid any creaky steps or floorboards, eventually creeping into the living space where a rather sad looking fir tree held silent vigil for a Starlight that seemed unlikely to come.

It’s branches were sparse, devoid of any real ornaments, and the floor beneath it was a barren, lacking any gifts to greet the little ones come dawn. It seemed to be the only expense of any note for the holidays which only made him more determined. He got to work in quiet haste, beginning to empty the sack of its contents. The first few items were some bundled lights, and coiled ribbons he’d pulled from…well, the important thing was that they wouldn’t be missed where he’d got them, but they’d be appreciated here. They were spun around the tree, making for a more pleasant sight.

He was half way through removing the gifts he’d collected for the orphans, a selection of boxes full of plushies, blankets, and toys when the subtle creak of wood betrayed a spy somewhere behind him. When he turned to look, he just barely caught sight of a small head of dark, curly hair disappearing behind the couch they’d been peering from. The Cowboy lofted a brow, but hunkered down to a squat that made him of equal height immediately.

“Well, now, don’t I know a rebel when I see one! Ain’t you s’posed t’be in bed?” He lowered his mask to appear less intimidating, and removed his hat for much the same reason. “Ain’t much fer it now. Why don’t ya come outta hidin’, an’ I’ll let ya choose yer gift first. What’s got ya outta bed?” He whispered, loud enough to be heard by the kid but not by the rest of the orphanage.

The small child slowly shuffled around the couch, likely no older than eight and looking a little bashful to have been caught. She quickly overcame her shyness when she took in the soft glow of the tree lights and the colorful ornaments upon its branches. “I wanted to see the Saint! Are you him?” She squinted a little suspiciously. “You don't seem like a saint. And you talk odd…”

He couldn’t help but snicker, shaking his head. “Naw. I ain’t him. Just’ One’ve his helpers is all. What’s yer name?" he asked in a soft whisper.

“…R-Rosamund. But my friends call me ‘Rose’.” Rosamund stated matter-of-factly. She looked from him, to the tree, and all it’s piles of gifts before looking back at the cowboy. The fixation was not lost on him, and he tipped his head back towards the bounty lingering beneath the sparkling tree. "Well, Rose. Go on n'help yerself then. I reckon you'll like that long one there, tho' yer free t'choose any two you'd like." He pointed to a longer, flat box nestled amongst others of various shape and size.

"Two??" She exclaimed before slapping a hand over her mouth for the outburst. He chuckled, nodding his head. "Got enough fer everybody. Now go on." The young girl scampered over to the tree, deliberating on her choices. She went with the one he pointed out, and a squat, square box. Clutching both to her chest, she ran back to him with wide eyes. "I can open them, then?" She clarified, as if not wanting to risk losing his permission. The Desperado simply dipped his head, and before he could even utter the full "Sh--" of 'sure', she was already ripping open the wrapper and delighting in the prizes buried beneath. Upon opening, she found herself with a new blanket of soft, warm fabric and a fuzzy teddy bear, both of which she clutched tight to her chest.

The cowboy beamed, happy to be the cause of such a bright smile in the youth. "Alright, Buckerette. I got a job fer ya's. Can ya count?" In whispers, he quietly gave her the task and once done, she nodded emphatically before covering her face with the blanket. She began to count, a tiny voice counting down from ten. By eight, had gifted new life to the tree with a touch, letting the branches grow thick and heavy with their own needle-like leaves. By six, he was heading for the door. By three he was at the threshold, twisting open the knob. By one, there was a soft click as the door latched behind him. A loud, childlike scream erupted from the interior. "GIFTS! GUYS LOOK!"

Lawrence chuckled, hearing the commotion from outside as windows illuminated themselves by the light of candles and lamps being turned on in a hurry. Thundering footsteps pounded down the stairs until presumably stumbling across the decorated tree and the many gifts beneath. There was laughter, screams, and enthusiastic shouting upon which Lawrence turned back to the biting wind and slipped away into the dim, morning light.