Insights of a Seer: Kassandra | 42 | Holiday Decorations

“Surely, with all of the holidays for the winter, there’s something you do to celebrate?”

“No,” She grumbled. “I don’t waste my time.”

 

It was a lie, she realized after the fact, but she also fancied she didn’t owe him any explanation. He didn’t need to know any more about her than was absolutely necessary to keep her safe. The way he laughed and further ribbed her, he might as well have considered her a petulant, pouting child, and it only incensed her further to not explicitly open up about herself.

 

He was infuriatingly similar to her handler, Roderick. All smiles and laughter and teasing, without an ounce of decorum in how he handled himself. It was especially egregious with Roderick, who for all of his jovial and juvenile behavior had a reputation that was worth protecting.

 

It was around this time of year over a century ago that Roderick had tried teaching her about the culture around the winter season. It felt incredibly distracting from what they were meant to learn, and he’d been chastised and punished for it almost yearly, and his general rule-breaking shenanigans got smaller and smaller until they went without notice. They were both trained very zealously away from wasting their time with frivolities like festive celebrations, of course, but one couldn’t tell Roderick anything.

 

The first few years before their education on the subject had been quite extravagant. Decorations all through the wing of the estate, a festive Crèche, a scene depicting the pantheon, and the setting relevant to their religion in all of its glory. It became more grandiose every year before it was discovered, and in part that was because Roderick would halt their studies so that they could paint more of the miniature figures and then present more witnesses and people in the ever-expanding setting. The first year had been just the scene of the gods and the nativity of the prophet, but eventually, the city was filled with life. They created a tiny little marketplace where the trickster god had stolen his gifts for the new oracle, every year filling the bazaar with more people and little stalls to sell their wares. Roderick, the master of detail both big and small, would spend time hand painting the little individual fruit in a stall. They painted the splotches on the coats of the little goats and settled them with their goatherd. Slowly, but inexorably, the city was brought to life.

 

Roderick, sentimental as he was, would also work with her to try and create a story for each and every individual they made. It was language arts, writing drafts about backstories to the people they created. The goatherd was a humble man who had not much and provided his family with all he could provide. He had young children back home, so his heart would be soft to the oracle’s birth, and they made a tiny little blanket of cashmere to present to the gods as they discussed the future of the world and of the newborn infant.

 

It was just one of many traditions they had, and she’d help set the table for a big, traditional multi-course feast with him, enjoying courses of festive meats, a course of just cheeses, and traditional treats like foie gras and king cake.

 

But all of that was quickly corrected, as were many of Roderick’s eccentricities. After rigorous and constant correction, there were no more nativity scenes, no more eccentric and cultural feasts. They read about it and talked about it in relevant studies, but there was no time to waste. Training and study came first, it always did.

 

The one prevailing tradition they had, though..

Rafael blinked in mute surprise as Kassandra strung up a few sprigs of mistletoe in the frame of the door. “Why, mi querida, if you wanted a kiss, you could have just asked~.”

“Stow it, Goat. It’s for good luck.” The curious look she received made her return it with a look of exasperated ire. “We would string these up in the doorways because they would ward off evil, or malicious spirits, you pick. Eventually, that became synonymous with luck. It’s lucky, it has nothing  to do with that kissing folklore, or whatever it is.”

Rafael had that twinkle of laughter in his eyes as he looked at the sprig of mistletoe hanging overhead with them both. “I guess it is good luck that I get to spend the holidays with you.”

She rolled her eyes. Stupid goat.