#vaze

They'd sneaked off, a lightness in V's chest at the youthful thrill that came with it. He'd turn and beam at Haze every couple of miles or so, racing against the impending daylight in his Rolls Royce.

Northeast, away from the Ministry, away from the lights. Somewhere still; flat, dry wilderness surrounded by jutting, irregular cathedrals, carving out the horizon.

Her eyes are shimmered— an almost-human brown with a cat's glare. He watches her figure out the shape of the constellations, how her eyes dart when there's a shooting star. Her breath is soft, and she's awestruck. So is he.

To test the waters, he kisses the back of her hand, afraid he's interrupting something sacred between her and the sky, but she turns to him and kisses him like he'd given her the deed to the universe itself. He wishes he could.

Instead, all he can do is let his desire build and build as they kiss in the valley's quiet embrace, until he breaks off with a gasp, pale fingers tangled in her wild hair.

He doesn't need to say it out loud, she nods and says, "Me too."

And that's as much preamble they need before he's guiding her back into the car, letting her contort herself into a position that is near comfortable. After doing away with the more obstructive clothes, he's a breath away from what he wants. Before he does, he instructs, "Look up."

She does, and grins at the view of the sky from the sunroof.

He lets her lie back, between the front seats, so that he can fold her legs over him and dive in. She makes a routine: the stars, him between her legs, then closed in pleasure. He teases her when she closes her eyes so she'll open them back up in protest, and then it starts over.

With the roof open, the windows don't fog, and her breathless moans are lost to the desert, absorbed in the bells of the white lilies, mingling with the barks of the coyotes.

Her affirmations grow frantic, and her legs squeeze around him. He holds her there, lost in the bliss of her strength and pleasure beofre she finally lets go, calling for him. He shivers when she says it: "Papa."

It was ill-fitting at first, but hearing her say it makes it mold and bend to him perfectly. She looks up at him with more love than he'd believe existed, if he hadn't felt it himself.

Carefully, they untangle themselves, unable to completely avoid bumping against the console, smudging a window or two.

The tour bus was humming along the interstate, a rolling sanctuary of sleep and stale snack scents, until the overhead bus lights flickered on with aggressive cheer, flooding the narrow space with a sudden, blinding glow.

V stood in the center aisle, looking like a high-fashion holiday specter.

He wore a deep crimson, velvet Santa hat; the rich fabric and white fur trim actually complemented his papa paint with a certain macabre elegance.

In his hand, he brandished a clipboard that was dangerously encrusted in red, green, and black glitter—a "gift" from Aurora during yesterday's craft hour that was now shedding shiny flakes all over the carpet.

The ghouls were already standing there in front of him, a silent, attentive lineup waiting for the morning's decree.

"Ghouls! Denizens of the deep! Children of the road!" V announced, as he narrowly avoided hitting his head on the overhead storage bins.

"The ninetieth has arrived! Today, we begin our sacred pilgrimage to the twenty-fifth! Mountain, front and center! We have garlands to string and absolutely no time for structural integrity!"

Before the last word even left V's lips, Mountain popped up from the floor from his spot directly in front of him.

He hadn't just been awake; he'd been waiting.

He shone a massive grin at Papa V, the mesh of his eye-sockets crinkling with excitement, and V beamed a happy, proud smile back at him.

Mountain hoisted a coil of prickly greenery over his head like a trophy.

As he began to launch the decorations toward the ceiling, the thick needles blurred and swept across the screen, transitioning the scene.

...

An hour later, the bus was a disaster zone of pine needles.

The two were taking turns standing on each other's shoulders to reach the highest vents; currently, Papa V was perched precariously on Mountain's broad shoulders, humming a ritualistic version of Deck The Halls.

The bus took a sharp, banking turn that sent the laws of physics out the window.

The duo tipped over like a falling tower of cards, collapsing into a massive, tangled pile of discarded garlands on the floor. After a second of silence, two heads popped up from the greenery—one silver mask and one crimson velvet hat—and they both burst into joyous, echoing laughter.

Suddenly, a flurry of googly eyes and pentagram gingerbread cookies rain down over the camera, blanketing the screen in a sugary, plastic storm to transition the scene.

...

The "cookie-storm" clears to reveal the tiny kitchenette of the tour bus.

In the background, the garlands from yesterday are still hanging at sagging, chaotic angles, but the focus today is on the flour-covered counter.

Swiss and Papa V are hunched over a massive slab of gingerbread.

They aren't just making a house; they are attempting to reconstruct the entire Ministry in cookie form.

Swiss is busy sculpting a tiny, demonic gargoyle out of black licorice and gumdrops.

With a mischievous flair, he pulls out a giant jar of googly eyes from his pocket.

Using a massive glob of white frosting as "glue," he slaps two mismatched eyes onto the gargoyle's face.

His mask crinkled with a smile as he held up the bug-eyed candy monster.

V gasps in delight, grabbing the frosting bag as he plans to give eyes to the bell tower and stained-glass windows.

As V meticulously dots frosting onto the gingerbread glass, placing the tiny plastic eyes with the precision of a surgeon, Swiss watches with rapt attention.

The mesh of Swiss's eye-sockets glitters with genuine excitement, reflecting the bright bus lights as he sees the cathedral come to "life."

Once the final eye is in place, Swiss gives a small, enthusiastic applaud, his gloved hands making a soft thwack-thwack sound.

He quickly ducks away, reaching into a nearby drawer to pull out a polaroid camera.

Click-flash!

The camera spits out a photo of a beaming Papa V posing proudly next to a gingerbread cathedral that is currently staring back at them with fifty unblinking eyes.

Swiss shakes the photo vigorously, and as the image begins to develop, it transitions us to the next day.

...

Dewdrop and Papa V are sitting on the floor of the bus. They are surrounded by piles of candy, chocolate coal, and the ghouls' mismatched stockings.

As Papa V meticulously counted out pieces of candy for the other ghouls, Dewdrop was a blur of motion.

He worked with suspicious speed, his silver mask darting back and forth.

V finished his careful distribution and turned around.

When he looked up, his eyes widened.

Dewdrop's own stocking wasn't just full; it was stuffed so impossibly high with premium truffles and king-sized bars that the top of the stocking was actually pressed against the bus ceiling.

V gave a playful, stern look, standing up as he crossed his arms and tapped his toe impatiently against the carpet.

A giant, cartoonish sweat drop appeared on Dewdrop's temple as he shone a wide, nervous grin at his papa.

The scene cuts away for a split second, and when it cuts back, the "fairness" had been adjusted.

Papa V's stocking was now just as massive as Dewdrop's, both reaching the ceiling like two overstuffed pillars of sugar.

The two of them looked at their twin towers of candy, then at each other.

They shared a knowing look, both grinning widely as they placed a finger over their lips and winked.

Suddenly, a massive wave of steaming hot chocolate splashes across the screen, followed by a fluffy cloud of whipped cream that completely coats the lens, transitioning the scene to the next day.

...

The whipped cream "melts" away to reveal the most organized corner of the bus.

While the rest of the bus is still a disaster of pine needles and googly eyes, this area is pristine.

Rain stands there, looking very professional.

He has set up a hot cocoa station where every topping is in its own labeled glass jar.

There are mini-marshmallows, crushed peppermint, cinnamon sticks, and even a little sign that says "Please Use a Coaster."

In the center, resting on a velvet doily, sits a small, elegant crystal vial filled with a deep, shimmering crimson liquid.

When Papa V steps into frame and begins to praise Rain's station, the ghoul gives a polite, graceful nod.

He picks up a silver spoon and begins to precisely measure out the cocoa powder, making sure the temperature is exactly right.

With a steady hand, he gestures toward the crystal vial.

V's eyes instantly go wide and sparkly, shimmering with pure, unadulterated joy.

He is so impressed by the attention to detail that he drops his glittery clipboard and gives a small, enthusiastic applause, his gloved hands making that rhythmic thwack-thwack sound.

In response, Rain places a hand over his heart and takes a small, dignified bow, his silver mask catching the light.

V grabs the vial and a whipped cream canister.

He pours the blood into the mug and then presses the whipped cream nozzle with a bit too much 'theatricality.'

The canister lets out a pressurized whizzt and explodes with a burst of foam.

Rain, with his quick reflexes, grabs a tray to use as a shield, but the foam is relentless.

Within seconds, the pristine station looks like a snowstorm hit it.

Rain stands there, his shield covered in white fluff, looking at his buried jars.

He slowly reaches over, picks up a single mini-marshmallow, and places it on top of V's cream-covered nose.

V lets out a giggle, utterly delighted that Rain had such an eye for detail.

A tangled mess of multicolored Christmas lights suddenly drops from the top of the screen, twinkling rapidly until the glowing bulbs fill the lens, transitioning the scene to the next day.

...

The screen clears to reveal a magnificent, six-foot-tall skeleton Christmas tree.

It isn't a pine tree; it's a tiered rack of faux-aged bones and skulls, polished to a high shine.

Storm and Cirrus are working in perfect sync with Papa V. Storm is using his "electric" energy to test the light strands, making the skulls' eye-sockets glow with a rhythmic pulse, while Cirrus is delicately draping silver tinsel across the ribcages like she's styling a gown.

They step back to admire their handiwork. The tree is covered in black ornaments, tiny bats, and enough lights to be seen from space.

But as they look at it, a heavy silence falls over the bus.

The three of them "popped" into chibi mode—their heads becoming oversized and round, their bodies small and stout.

They huddled together in the center of the aisle, little cartoonish smoke clouds puffing from their heads as they "thought" at maximum capacity.

Without warning, Phantom popped up from the floor directly in front of the huddle, already in his own chibi form.

He didn't say a word; he just joined the circle, his tiny hand on his tiny chin, nodding along as if he'd been part of the conversation the whole time.

Just as the thinking was getting intense, Aurora strolled by, looking effortlessly glamorous.

She didn't even go chibi; she just stopped, looked at the bare top of the bone-tree, and pointed a perfectly manicured finger.

"Ooo, that's a pretty tree!" she chirped airily. "Too bad it's missing a star, though..."

V's eyes went wide.

He "popped" back into his normal form with a triumphant gasp.

"The Star! Of course! Aurora, you are a beacon of fashion and logic!"

...

A shower of glowing stars fades into a beautifully painted anime-style background of a sprawling, quiet mall at night.

The neon signs are glowing softly, and the "camera" pans down to show Perpetua (no papa makeup, looking devilishly handsome) and Aurora walking side-by-side.

They are on a mission to find the "perfect crown" for their bone-tree.

Aurora is leading the way, her eyes sparkling with shopping-fuelled determination.

They enter a boutique filled with glittering ornaments. Aurora reaches onto a shelf and pulls out a sleek, modern LED star.

The "camera" zooms in on Perpetua. His face scrunches up, a tiny cartoonish "X" appearing over his head.

He shakes his head slowly, his eyes becoming big and watery like a classic anime protagonist.

"It lacks... the soul of the Ministry," a subtitle appears at the bottom of the screen.

Aurora giggles and tries again, holding up a star made of delicate, hand-blown glass. Again, Perpetua's reaction is a dramatic, cute pout.

He does a little "no-no" gesture with his hands, a small sweat-drop appearing on his temple.

It's just not it.

Finally, Aurora reaches into the very back of a display and pulls out a star that is deep, velvet crimson with a gold-leaf trim and a tiny, hidden bat wing design.

As soon as he sees it, Perpetua's world turns into a background of glowing flowers and sparkles.

He "pops" into chibi mode, his little hands flying to his cheeks in pure joy.

He beams a radiant, toothy smile and gives Aurora a double thumbs-up while little hearts float around his head.

Aurora's eyes go wide, and a soft, pink blush spreads across her cheeks.

She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, looking genuinely touched by his praise. "I knew you'd love it," she whispers happily.

As they walk toward the checkout, the crimson star begins to glow brighter and brighter, transitioning the scene to the next day.

...

The vibrant anime colors fade, and we are back in the cozy, slightly messy reality of the tour bus.

The skeleton tree is glowing in the corner, its crimson-and-gold star casting long, warm shadows over the black-wrapped presents below.

Haze and Perpetua are finishing the very last of the decorating.

They've been taping mistletoe above every doorway, moving quietly so as not to wake the other ghouls.

As they reach the final archway, Haze stops, noticing a sprig hanging directly over her head.

Curious, she reaches up and slips her silver mask off to get a closer look.

Her face is soft and human—pale skin dusted with glittery freckles, eyes framed in sharp black liner, and her turquoise and deep blue hair glowing under the bus's LED strips.

She realizes the mistletoe isn't taped up; Perpetua is holding it there with a mischievous grin.

Before she can even blink, he leans in and gives her a quick, affectionate kiss on the cheek.

Haze flushes a deep red, her eyes going wide before she swoons, fainting perfectly into his arms.

Perpetua lets out a quiet, heart-filled giggle.

He scoops her up bridal style, carries her to her bunk, and tucks her in safely.