What age did your parents give you the talk?
You know THE talk? About Santa not being real?
It seems easy right?
But what if I told you, Santa existed?
And what if I told you he was a young, hot and unapologetically prideful man.
Well, come on in...
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Wynter
Five servants curl my hair while a six others paint my feet. I thought preparations for the ball were going to be lengthy but all the servants used magic so it was quick.
I wanted to take part in something so I made an effort to shimmy into my tight green emerald dress despite the pleas against my involvement.
I smoothed the middle of the gown, making sure to adjust the velvet fabric to hug every curve of my body. It was a statement piece. Simple yet elegant.
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"All done" the servants clapped excitedly. I took a one final look in the mirror and was content with my appearance.
"Beautiful, thank you all. I love it" I smile in appreciation. They really did make me look my best.
"They are ready for you Ms. Wynter" Another servant comes behind me and smiles. I nodded, taking in a deep breath before turning to the exit.
I hear the distant chatters of guests and a beautiful aria playing in the distance. The tepid sound of plates and glasses clanging against the bursts of silence throughout the hall.
The ballroom looked packed.
"Has the banquet started?" I turn to the woman with the gold rimmed spectacles.
"Yes, Ms. Wynter. It has started from quite some time now. Nick instructed we dress you late"
"Of course" I mumbled. I roll my eyes but nodded, already anticipating his tardiness.
"Oh Wynter!! Wynter!!" Mrs. Claus waves me down, running to pull me aside. She looked pretty in her simple red dress. "I must introduce you to everyone. Tinsel, Yuletide! Patrick and Dasher!" She pulled my arm into hers before leading me down the steps.
