The Horror and the Wild

XI. The Redeemer

December 24, Thursday

Cillian had slept all the way through the twenty-third and barely woke up in time to get ready on the twenty-fourth. He sluggishly rolled out of bed once he'd checked the time, but ended up laying on the floor of his bedroom and staring up at the ceiling for another half hour before he was able to properly get up and get moving. He briefly considered using some of the extra energy he had stored in the gemstones of various pieces of jewellery, but ultimately decided to see if food and a shower could perk him up first. There was no point in wasting what was reserved for emergencies if he didn't need to. After all, one never really knew when an emergency was going to come about.

The first thing he did was take the pie out of the freezer to thaw while he went about his business. It was a chocolate concoction that had taken him more effort to create than he'd have been willing to admit, and he was glad he'd thought to prepare the thing in advance.

A hot shower helped immeasurably with the waking-up process, as they often did. But he still felt half-asleep as he combed gel and a little bit of glitter into his damp hair to try and shape it into something more professional than it normally allowed. As he'd expected, his errant curls were committed to fighting back— and it took him the better part of an hour to come out with a tolerable result. He fixed it in place with a bit of magic so his bike helmet wouldn't ruin his hard work, then went back to his room to finish getting dressed.

After rifling through everything he owned at least twice, he settled on a solid black suit. He thought it looked a little grim for the holiday festivities, so he took a carnation off one of his many plants and fashioned a delicate boutineer to pin to his lapel. The subtle reference to Oscar Wilde was just a bonus of the little green flower. He checked the clock again and considered his options. He'd be using a little magic to sing later that night, and he'd be up rather late. He decided it would be in his best interest to pack something to sleep in and a change of clothes along with his gifts for everyone, just in case he wasn't fit to drive back home safely.

He desperately wanted to pack his black velvet miniskirt, but he'd promised Owen that he'd dress more moderately to accommodate the delicate sensibilities of the Catholics. Instead he went with a pair of red shorts, a black sweater, black knitted thigh high socks— that went up past the hem of the shorts for 'modesty'— and his holly-themed high heels— the Catholics be damned. Owen could pry his fancy shoes off his corpse.

Once everything else was packed in, he carefully put the pie on top and secured it as best he could.

Throwing on a heavy leather jacket and thick scarf, he sent a text message to the priest that he was going to be on his way over shortly. After that, he spent at least another five minutes fussing with his hair and changed out his earrings three more times. And, despite knowing it wouldn't matter at all, he changed the stud in his tongue out from a plain silver ball to a shimmering white opal.

After messing around at the last minute, Cillian calmed his nerves enough to go downstairs and start up his bike as the sun was sinking below the horizon.