As the afternoon light filtered into the living and warmed the morning chill that had settled over the carpet, a spicy scent of kimchi and garlic wafted from the kitchen, leaving the tummies that wandered about curiously around the bottom of the stairs grumbling.

"I never knew Vaughn was so fond of music," said Io to his eagle friend as they came across a third music player in the span of five minutes. "Do you think he collects these?"

Luka paused, taking a moment to consider the question. "Maybe," was all he arrived at.

Io huffed, reaching up to poke the eagle's cheek.

"Very detailed answer you have there, Luka."

"I do hope that neither of you have laid your fingers on my things," came a voice from behind, startling the pair. Vaughn had emerged from the kitchen with a barista's apron tied around his waist, a watchful eye on his very first guests who had, apparently, taken it upon themselves to feel at home.

Io flashed a sheepish smile. "We'll bear that in mind."

"Have you placed your presents under the tree?"

"Yes, sir."

"Reminded your Avians to steer away from the second floor?" Vaughn narrowed his eyes.

The sparrow nodded, tugging on Luka's sleeve to illicit some form of response. "That, too." The eagle nodded after him (only less enthusiastic) before returning his gaze to Io's hair, which looked particularly mesmerizing under the shafts of afternoon light. In truth, he was waiting for the exact moment Io's hair would blanch to the shade of moon—a time of the day that he would preferably not like to miss.

"Eve!" Called a voice from the kitchen that sounded to Io strangely like Professor Viktor. "Come back here and give me a hand with the rice."

The vulture visibly froze, face drained of any color. "I said not to—ugh...yes, I'm coming." Unable to bring himself to look in the eyes of either Winged, Vaughn dragged himself back to the kitchen.

Upon turning his back on the pair, Io noticed that the vulture's ears were dashed with red. He turned to Luka with a curious gaze. "I didn't know Vaughn had a nickname."

"They sound very...close," observed the eagle within a blink, yet still unable to decipher his own observations of himself. The cupcake above could not help but shake her head at his lack of self-awareness.

Io nodded upon hearing his words. "Yeah. I've always thought they knew each other before the Order was introduced as part of the school's faculty. What do you think?"

"I think I'm hungry," replied Luka rather forwardly, recently becoming increasingly frank with Io. The sparrow had also noticed his increased capacity for humour and laughter, which was fairly endearing.

Io laughed, tip-toeing and reaching up to pat the head of his eagle friend. The latter bowed his head slightly so as to make this easier for Io. "Alright, alright. Let's be patient and wait for everyone else to come first, okay? How about we get some of the chocolate we brought into the fridge first? I'm worried that those will melt."

Luka agreed by expressing silence, following Io who drew towards the coffee table that they had placed their chocolates at upon arriving at Vaughn's. They picked up two boxes each and floated into the kitchen.

"Hello! We forgot to mention that we brought chocolates," Io announced, slightly surprised to see the professor dressed in a barista apron that matched Vaughn's, cutting up peppers in a way that fascinated the sparrow very much.

"Although fairly unexpected and unnecessary, that is very thoughtful of you." Trust the vulture to be ready with a snide remark wherever and whenever. Jae-min shot his step-brother a look, to which the latter responded by clearing his throat and looking away. "Unfortunately, there's no space for those in the refrigerator. You'd have to finish them this instant."

Luka gave the boxes of chocolates in his arms a glance before exchanging a blank look with his sparrow friend. "In this weather, the balcony could do."

Io's lips shaped into an 'o', quite as though he was in love with the idea, but before he could agree to it and compliment Luka for being an absolute genius, Vaughn—the chaos and disorder that he embodied—stepped in to destroy all that he intended to do.

"No, no. That is absurd and a poor solution. Give me that," he grabbed and gathered the boxes of chocolates in his arms, opening the fridge with his foot and doing his best to slot them between neatly-arranged airtight boxes and rows of canned drinks. The vulture found that Iolani Tori and Luka Sullivan were always part of the force that sought to destroy that which he tried to keep in order. That included his refrigerator, for obvious reasons.

"But it's almost like we're put into a fridge out there," Io pointed out, turning to gaze outside the window. "It's reeeaally cold."

Vaughn was about to whip up a witty response—a delicious comeback—when the doorbell rang for the second time, startling them out of their conversation.

"Tori, could you get the door?" Jae-min requested on behalf of his brother, who would have insisted on getting it himself since it was his place they were having the party at and it simply did not feel right to have anyone else answer his door (but primarily because he never really had anyone else over to actually do so, being the quiet and lonely vulture he was haha take that, Vaughn).

"Okay!" Chirped the sparrow, so fluffy that he practically floated to the front door with Lyra on his shoulder. Luka's eyes followed.

"Eve, I don't want to be the annoying older brother figure, but—"

"Yes." Vaughn flipped the kimchi pancake with a straight face.

"—you're never going to be well-liked if you treat everyone this way," Jae-min finished, turning to his brother with a sigh. "Hyung is worried about your social life. Tori makes the effort to include you in the class, but look at the way you treat him."

"I never intended to be well-liked," defended Vaughn with an indignant snap. "And I don't treat everyone this way. I smile at strangers!"

"Exactly," hummed the condor, glad that he needn't lift a finger to prove his point. "You smile at strangers and glare at your friends. Perfectly normal social behaviour."

Several feet away, Luka was watching them interact with a blank stare. He hadn't known that Vaughn had an elder brother. The vulture behaved as though he had been the only child for his entire life and his lack of social interaction rivalled even his own—which he found, already, immensely rare.

"Ji—Jane is here!" Io announced by poking his head past the doorframe before disappearing back into the hallway to welcome the new guest. "You might want to put the dish in the kitchen first. Vaughn doesn't like it when other people try arranging his things. I did that earlier and he kinda scolded me." Luka heard him say sheepishly.

The phoenix walked into the kitchen area, turning to the professor with a nod before addressing Vaughn, the host. "Happy Christmas," she said quietly. "I made some spicy beef stew. Where should I put it?"

The sound of spicy beef stew stirred Vaughn's curiosity and he was tempted to lift the cover of the pot to take a whiff. "The second stove will be free after we're done with the kimchi fried rice, so. If you wait a little longer, we could heat it up."

"Kimchi sounds good," the phoenix remarked as she placed her pot of stew on the counter top. It was a comment that did not imply any excitement in her tone of speech, yet to Io sounded like she was a little pleased.

"Indeed."

Eyes turned to stare at the vulture who had, for the very first time, agreed in an instant. Agreed on any matter at all! He had agreed. Vaughn however, was thankfully saved by the doorbell. The thought of leaving his door open crossed his mind but open doors were symbols of invitation—of 'hey, come on in!'—which he certainly did not embody.

"I'll get it. Pipa might be here with the potato salad we made together this morning," Io piped, floating, once again, towards the front door.

Luka watched. Jing watched Luka watch Io before remembering that she had to place her gift for her secret Santee under the Christmas tree that Vaughn had painstakingly decorated.

Being the special little bean that he aspired to be, he'd picked out a white one instead of the plain, somewhat boring green that he (for some reason) detested. Ornaments were a mix of blue and silver, topped off with a string of warm Christmas lights that did not assault his eyes (the blinking, colour-changing ones did, particularly). It was an impressively-decorated tree for a beginner like Vaughn, who had no experience whatsoever in Christmas. In general.

"I'm ready to eat! Where's the food?" In barged Dmitri Ford, the falcon who had starved himself the entire morning just so that he could fill what was empty with the free food available at dinner. Vaughn did not like people barging into his kitchen. No surprises there! The bitter bean did not like many things at all.

"Ford. The food is being prepared and will be ready to eat in approximately ten minutes," he laid out plainly, shooing the falcon out the doorway and into the living room. "I urge you to remain seated in the living. Do not move unless instructed to."

Dmitri released a treacherous 'aw' and dragged himself towards the couch. "Why's it so quiet? Where's the Christmas music? The 'rudolph the red-nosed reindeer'?"

Io froze. He'd forgotten about the Christmas party music that was key (or at least Dmitri himself had established) to setting the mood. He was about to go get his flute that was in Luka's room (wait—why was it there again?) when Vaughn silenced everyone and told them to sit their butts down. Not including the butts, he did not say that.

"I'll play some music, if that'll satisfy your petty demands." The vulture snapped, drawing towards a cabinet and opening it to reveal rows of music albums and a music player that looked much more expensive than the ones that Io had seen littered across his dorm.

Io tottered up to him, watching as Vaughn ran a bony finger down the rows and stopped at one, pulled it out, frowned, slid it back into place, continued down the row and picked out another.

"That's a lot of Christmas music you have there," said Io, impressed. "Do you like Christmas music, Vaughn? I've never really heard Christmas music before. Sorry for the trouble—I guess you could say I'm new at this, and not very good at it."

The vulture spared him a glance. "At what?"

"Christmas."

Vaughn scoffed.

"Hm," he lowered his voice, quiet. "Well, you're not the only one." He inserted the disc into the CD player and a jazz version of 'Frosty the Snowman' began to play.

*

"Alright kids, have fun." Jae-min called from the hallway after setting the table with the variety of dishes that he'd made and removing his apron. "You best not be drinking any alcohol if you're underaged," he remarked at a select few before finishing off with the typical 'don't make too much noise'.

"Sure thing sir!" Abigail and Dmitri called after him in unison, a smile of mischief hidden from sight. "Have fun at the staff party!"

They heard the door close and erupted in laughter. "Aw, he called us kids! Did you hear that Vaughn?"

The vulture sighed in response, returning to his spicy beef stew and Biryani (a rice dish that Vijay had brought along) that he found to be the ultimate combination. He devised a plan to ask for the respective recipes, somehow desperate to recreate them himself.

"You never told us he's your brother," Jeremiah had a glass of champagne (a bottle his Uncle had sent over as a gift and he'd brought to share with the crew) between his fingertips and was standing over Vaughn curiously. "You two don't look alike."

"He's my step-brother. Of course we don't look alike," the vulture corrected, quietly considering if he should drink as well.

"He's a great cook though," Pipa added, who was seated opposite Vaughn at the dining for some odd reason. Everyone else had their paper plates filled and were watching Lucienne and Odile unbox their gifts from their secret Santas. "These kimchi pancakes are amazing."

"Naturally," the vulture responded stiffly, slightly worried that the pancakes were disappearing fater than he'd imagined. He hadn't expected anyone else to appreciate the taste other than himself. Jing and Pipa were a big fan of them; he'd seen the former stack four on her paper plate.

The canary flashed a grin, to which he looked away.

"Oh! Earrings," announced Lucienne, fairly pleased with her present. "Whoever got this has good taste." At the table, Pipa was quietly relieved. Vaughn spotted her shoulders relaxing and found her particularly easy to read, very much unlike her sparrow friend.

Several others had gathered near the Christmas tree with their food and drinks to observe unboxing reactions. It was fairly amusing, especially when Odile and Odette found that their secret Santas had collaborated to get them dancing shoes of the same model—only of a different colour each. They were unisex, as requested.

"Aw! It's a picture of me," Dmitri gushed, flattered by a huge, mahogany-framed shot of him smiling at the camera, embodying every bit of confidence and charm. "Wow, the printing looks expensive as hell. I'm putting this up in my bedroom."

Jeremiah laughed almost at once. "A gigantic portrait of yourself?" He snickered. "Just what did you ask for in your letter?"

"Fuck you. You're just jealous! I asked for—" He paused mid-sentence, recalling. Dear Santa, please give me: something funny! I love jokes. Only then had he achieved a state of enlightenment. He was the joke.

Skies, whoever his Santa was, had got him. And they got him good.

"What? What did you ask for?" Jeremiah raised a brow, only to witness Dmitri stuffing himself with chocolate eclairs to deal with life.

*

You better watch out, you better not cry

Better not pout, I'm telling you why

"Does Santa coming to town necessitate 'watching out' and 'not crying'?" Posed Io to no one in particular, swirling his plastic cup of fruit punch. It was unconscious. "He's making a list of who's naughty and nice? I wonder how he does that. What sort of criteria does Santa use to evaluate children—who's naughty and who's nice?"

—making a list and checking it twice

Gonna find out who's naughty and nice

"All he knows is when they're sleeping and when they're awake. Or if they've been 'bad' or 'good'—surely, Santa doesn't have enough knowledge to do the judging? I wonder what Santa's take on 'good' and 'bad' is."

He sees you when you're sleepin'

He knows when you're awake

He knows if you've been bad or good so—

"Probably something stupid," sighed a voice from his left. Io turned to the source, craning his neck in a strange angle to do so.

"Oh! Vaughn," the smaller frame glowed with a lunar smile. "You were here!"

"My apologies for being so insignificant and unnoticeable."

"Oh no, you're very noticeable, I'm afraid," Io laughed. "It was my fault. I was...kinda in my own world. As I seem to always be, either way."

"You can continue," was Vaughn's way of saying that he wanted to listen—just not as nice.

After all, he had a glass of champagne ready. Just in case Io decided to launch into his mind-blowing series of questions. Ah, so that's what he meant by wanting answers? Vaughn noted this mentally, keeping to himself.

Io beamed, quietly pleased. "That's nice of you. Well, there's not much I can say, really. Me being a beginner at this Christmas and Santa thing. You said that you were, as well?"

"Partly," admitted the vulture. "I've never gotten round to celebrating it even when I was younger. My father left my family on the morning of Christmas Eve, I believe. Perhaps that is the reason my mother never really liked the season." He took a gulp of alcohol, wincing at the bitter sting that probed the back of his throat. "My biological brother didn't like it either, so there wasn't any reason for me to like it too."

"But you did, didn't you?"

Iolani Tori was doing what he did best, observing from his point of vantage—the eyes that glowed a silver shade in the darkness. He saw Vaughn.

The latter laughed sadly, strangely used to the words and questions he thought he detested. "Perhaps I did."

"How do you feel now, celebrating the occasion you've always wanted to celebrate?" He went on, posing another question that led to greater self-discovery. "With other people."

Vaughn paused. He wondered if he should tell the moon phoenix about today being his birthday. He'd considered it a tragic coincidence for the longest time—that his favourite holiday and the day of his becoming was the day that his family wished to forget. Vaughn had avoided the darkness of the matter for quite some time, fearing its warmth.

"I don't know," he said, rather direct. It was rare. "I'm not as good with emotions as you are," he sighed, "or words for the matter. Which is rather ironic, considering the fact that I read so much more than you. My choice of words flatter, but they mean little. Yours on the other hand..."

Io laughed, sipping on his fruit punch. "I'm sure Shakespeare meant for us to learn about ourselves and our emotions. Since, you know, as the playwright, he probably had his intentions. But once the authors themselves have passed on, those who come after him can never really know his intentions. Did he really intend for us to interpret his work this way? Did he really intend for a certain character to be portrayed this way?" He paused, thinking.

"Shakespeare might have control over his words, but he has no control over the perspectives of others—of the things that exist beyond himself. Sometimes, intentions are not enough, you see," said the boy. "I don't know. Sometimes it just feels that way. Well, unless he's good enough to condition the minds of his audience to think in a certain way before he actually unveils some stuff. I don't quite know if authors do that. I can't sit down to read by the way, I'm a very bad reader."

The vulture snorted, turning to the rest of his place. For the very first time, it was filled with sound and presence; as though it was alive.

"You see what I mean by you being good with words? Skies," he shook his head. Io looked up at him and smiled.

"Io!" Pipa waved her friend over. "Come unwrap your gift! It's got really nice wrapping."

Io was unexpectedly excited about the act of unveiling. The emotion of surprise and anticipation was furthered by curiosity, a central part of himself that had remained since his becoming. "Oh! Okay."

Luka (who had been watching him talk to the vulture and resisting the temptation to shuffle within earshot) handed him a square box and waited for him to open it, more curious of the moon phoenix's reaction than anything else.

He unwrapped the box and uncovered the lid. "It's huge," he lifted the spherical-shaped object out of its packaging, inspecting the polished shine on its surface. "It looks like a bowling ball!"

"Woah, that's an eight-ball," Dmitri gawked at once, drawing closer. "Don't think you know what that is, but it has the answers to, like, everything in the world!"

Io's jaw dropped. Everything in the world? Then, surely, this was what he had been searching for—all his life!

"WHY DOES SANTA EVALUATE CHILDREN BASED ON THE TIME THEY SLEEP AND IF THEY CRY? DOES HE LOOK DOWN ON EMOTION AND PRIORITIZE ONLY HAPPINESS? WHY IS HE SO MEAN?" The tiny boy hollered at the shiny ball, ecstatic to have every question in stowed away in his cage answered at once.

Half the room burst into laughter. "Io!" "Iolani, that's not how the thing works!" "Dude you crack me up." Vaughn had a hand to his eyes, unable to witness the sheer tragedy that was unfolding.

While Io was left wondering what 'cracking' someone 'up' meant, he was also in the process of admitting that just as important the answer was to him, the journey in which he travelled to seek the very answers to his questions was, if not more important, equally significant.

Having a tool that provided the answer to every question in the world was far too convenient (not to mention unlikely) and at most, detrimental to the concept of humanity. What it meant to be human; to think, to rationalize more than any other animal, to possess the capacity for a mind with depth, characterized by emotion and purpose—the blade of such would dull under the friction of convenience. Of having everything at one's fingertips and never having to actually, really, stop and think for one's self.

Io didn't want answers—no, he didn't just want answers anymore, he sought the journey. The thought. The time to think.

"You're supposed to ask a 'yes' or 'no' kind of question," Dmitri explained after regaining his composure. "You don't even have to ask it aloud. Just think of the question, then shake the ball. Then, you look into the black hole over here." He pointed at a triangular space that disrupted the smooth, shiny surface of the sphere.

"Ohh," Io nodded. Less excited now that he'd thought it through. Indeed, within thirty seconds, he had arrived at a conclusion regarding answers—which, in the way, was an answer itself—and was particularly grateful for. For all intents and purposes, his Secret Santa had, indeed, given him an answer. To answers.

"Go ahead, ask one." They were all very curious.

The first question at the forefront of his mind, the only yes-no question that Io had considered he knew the answer to, was due. It would determine the ball's reliability, upon testing.

Will I be alone forever?

As I see it, yes. It had given the correct answer, and Io himself was surprised by its accuracy. Still, it could have been a coincidence. He asked another.

Does Luka consider me as a good friend?

Better not tell you now, said the ball, giving one of its non-committal answers. Io was puzzled. He hadn't expected a grey area. Either way, it made him panic a little. If the ball was true, then did Luka really not consider him as a friend yet? After all they'd done? Oh dear. He was anxious.

Surely, he doesn't hate me though? Does he like me?

Ask again later, said the ball that was getting uncomfortable with questions about Luka because this was so touchy a subject that even the ball dared not provide a concrete answer for fear that readers panic and turn to the cupcake above for answers but the cupcake herself was afraid to give answers just yet so a non-committal reply was most appropriate at present. At present.

Little Io was no aware of this however, and henceforth spiraled into a mini panic session with himself, questioning his friendship with Luka and worrying if he'd been a good-enough friend.

*

"It's a scarf," piped phoenix to phoenix, unable to hide the fact that he was her Santa. It was simply a trait between them two.

Jing wrapped the red, hand-knitted scarf around her neck and felt warmer at once. It was a perfect gift. "Thank you. I love it."

"Really?" Io heaved in relief, falling into the seat beside her. "Pipa taught me how to do it. The ends are pretty bad, I never got to mastering how to do the ends."

"You made it yourself?" She glanced down at the scarf, surprised. "I couldn't tell."

"Hehe," Io laughed sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. "I hope this brings you warm days. At the same time though, it's not like we want to forget the cold ones either."

He smiled, lunar.

*

"You like it?" Shri popped by Luka's shoulder as soon as he unboxed his present. "You can stroke this one all day."

It was a stuffed sparrow. A tiny stuffed sparrow the size of Lyra (and Io when he was in his Avian form)—and it was perfect. Luka did his best to hide the immense satisfaction that stirred within. "Thank you."

"You've got to say more than that, my friend!" The osprey was nudging him in the side. "I saw how much you liked looking at his sparrow form over remedial class at the clocktower that time. Thought this might come in handy just in case, you know, you didn't get your fill of...whatever you need," she cleared her throat. "Okay we look suspicious and said boy is approaching. Over and out."

She left. Io arrived with a curious gaze. "What's that in the box?"

"It's...a stuffed toy," Luka projected very broadly, crossing his fingers. Victoria was screaming for them to return to their room so that she could play with the stuffed sparrow. "Shri was my Santa."

"Aw! That's so nice of her," beamed the moon phoenix, happy for his friend. "Your bedroom wouldn't look so empty anymore, would it? And from the look on your face, you quite like the gift!"

Io was observant as usual. Nothing escaped his eye and Luka did not expect himself to so much as pass either.

"W-well I," his companion produced something from behind his back, suddenly unable to meet his eye. "I got you something too. I'm not your Santa though—I...just wanted to get you something."

HUG THE CHILD, hollered Victoria in agony. Luka tried to concentrate.

"Thank you, Io." The eagle received the gift and asked if he could open it. Io jumped at that.

"Yes, if you want to, b-but I um, I don't encourage that because, um, I just. I just don't encourage it. It'll be better if you look at it when you're alone or something."

"I will," he replied almost immediately.

Everyone in the room suffocated from the fluff.

*

At the corner of his very own room, Vaughn decided that this was where he would take a quick look at his gift from Santa. A glance would suffice to contain his excitement—after all, he was anticipating a nice book to read by the fireside, preferably one of Oscar Wilde's plays or a rare collection of poems by Shakespeare.

He opened it.

And as he'd expected, it was a book. And on the cover of the book, the words 'This is a Nice Book' were splayed upfront, as though the receiver was blind and needed reassurance. The vulture almost hit his head against the nearest wall.

Indeed, he had (in fact) indicated that 'a nice book would do' in his request, but taking that a little too seriously—his words at face value—meant that his Santa was likely to be...

"Ooo, that's a funny gift you got there Vaughn, a 'nice book'! Haha, great sense of humour, eh?" Dmitri Ford appeared at his shoulder, smile stiff and tone pitched unusually high. He was, very obviously, uncomfortable.

The vulture sighed.

"A fool would have known that it was from you, Ford."

Dmitri's shoulders fell. "Dammit. Was it the joke? The joke gave it away didn't it." For once, Vaughn didn't know whether it was an occasion for him to laugh or cry. Both seemed particularly uncharacteristic of himself, so he decided on neither.

"It was everything," he finished with a sigh, turning to the falcon. "But I appreciate the sentiment. I'm sure I'll enjoy the book."

"Oh, it's not a book though." Dmitri corrected him by taking the gift from his hands and flipping it open for his Santee to see. "It's a notebook. For you to write your own story," he flashed a grin. A smile that was unusually charming.

_______________________

The heart of the night neared its close and the day of Christmas was approaching. Odile and Odette were having a friendly competition over the number of turns they could do within a minute, while several others watched, half cheering and in awe. A couple were finishing up what was left of the dinner spread and some were conversing near the electric heater with a cup of hot chocolate. Vaughn was an unexpected fan of it, since a very young age.

He and Iolani were standing by the stairs, watching the room—listening to Christmas music. A comment or two would surface, every now and then. The silence between them was unusually soothing.

They were on the topic of dictionaries. Somehow, they'd arrived at that. Definitions were the very thing that made language so arbitrary and subjective, furthered by perspective and interpretation.

"I'd like your opinion Vaughn," said Io as he looked up at the vulture. "What does it mean to be alone?"

This was, perhaps, the easiest question that Vaughn had ever encountered in his conversations with his archenemy, written to be the very person he would detest and at the same time, aspire to become.

"Simply, it is the—" He stopped.

There was something in the way of his words. Something preventing him from going on. Loneliness had been, to Vaughn, a known existence. The only friend amidst his darkness, one that ironically provided company for the longest time of his life. Vaughn knew loneliness as much as loneliness knew him and they were, for all intents and purposes, the very best of friends.

And yet for some strange and unusual reason, somewhere along the way,

He had forgotten what it was like to be alone.

The lights went off without warning. Then when they came back on, there were candles before his eyes, flames greeting him in the darkness, blinding his eyes that were frozen in surprise at the cake, and the piping, and the words, and the song, and the candles—the candles, the candles, the candles.

He couldn't quite seem to hear very well. Or see. His vision was oddly blurred and distorted, as though this was a scene from a rare dream out of the thousands of nightmares he'd contained within his cage.

There was no opposite of loneliness; or so Vaughn had come to realize.

There was only 'not alone'.

And although the concept had seemed to him an unlikely and idealistic feat,

It now caressed his cheek and assaulted his eyes—

Very much here.

Vaughn refused to cry.

He refused.

__________________________

A/N: Happy New Year my Stars <3 Ah, it has been quite a year. It was everything at once—great, bad, painful, joyous, complex, simple, charged, and most importantly, whole. Even if it isn't, even if it is filled with discord apart from harmony, it is as important as every other happy year.

I'd like to announce that I have about 4-5 chapters to go before this book comes to a close, and I hope you'll enjoy what I have in store. Writing this Christmas special has got me thinking how biased I am to my Flight School readers :'D I make special effort, you know! Hahaha.

I must say, Vaughn is the character with the most (and I mean the most) character development I've ever written. Slow, paced—almost like a wave. I've always hoped to portray a realistic antagonist, so much so that he becomes, in the eyes of the readers, a protagonist. Io is more of character revelation than development. He doesn't really change. He is unveiled, bit by bit, along the way. He's quite a mystery still.

Also, the Christmas gifts (the scarf that Jing received and the stuffed sparrow) were inspired by a present from one of my readers, Jeanette, who was so kind to send me gifts this festive season :') she got me a scarf and stuffed sparrow, sending a couple of fanart along as well. I'll be putting them up on Instagram and tagging her, so look out for that ^^ (my username is hisangelchip).

Again, wishing you a wholesome year ahead. 

Love,

Cuppie.

___________________________

He saw him under the tree, hidden by the cloak of the night—watching blades of grass sway in the wind. The nightingale knelt by a root, quiet. Waiting.

Iolani Tori sat a distance away, the wind in his face. Sharp, characterized by a bitter sting. Together, they braced the wind and waited in the night.