Room 210; Saturday Afternoon [12/01].

Tinsel was falling from the sky, in a streaking, shining rain of strangeness and beauty and absurdity. It didn't make much sense to Astrid, but as a girl who grew up without Christmas, it was...actually kind of something magical. Which was why, after a long time of just being in it, watching it fall, admiring how it draped itself in the trees, she returned her room, hair streaked in silver, arms full of the stuff. She dropped the pile on her bed before dragging her bed away from the wall, already thinking of how to incorporate it into the new wall painting she was going to do today, something with lots of red and green and gold to make up for the fifteen years of holiday cheer she'd been denied.

...of course, she would be pretty surprised and incredibly disappointed when it turned out the tinsel was not going to stick around for longer than the duration of the day, but she would feel fine about it, too. Almost made it a little bit Zen, really, an example of the fleeting permanence of all things, including joy. She could appreciate that.

[[ door and post are open!]]