Deltarune: Holy Night

1: TAKE THAT, [[Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade]]

'Twas the night before Christmas in the Dreemurr residence,
And one creature was stirring: a human named Kris.
Locked out of repose, they turned and they tossed,
Head filled with images of what they had lost.
For Christmas, once bursting with jolly traditions,
Now filled the human with frigid indifference.
Nothing remained for them to celebrate;
Their only friend left sealed behind iron gates.

At this point, the narrator threatened to go on strike if the author didn't stop writing their lines in poetic rhythm. Thank you, by the way.

It wasn't hard for Kris to remember what Christmas had once been like. Joyful laughter and the peals of bronze bells tickling their eardrums. The feeling of colored paper giving way to the treasures within as they rent it apart with feral excitement. Cheerful music, floating out of the state-of-the-art (for its time) radio at the Holidays' mansion. Above all else, a feeling of positivity and inclusivity that settled around them like crisp snow.

There truly was no other time of the year like it.

Kris sat up in bed, accepting their sleepless fate, and thought back to the days before everything went so horribly wrong.

Once upon a time, a typical Christmas morning went something like this: Kris being rudely awakened by Asriel jumping up and down at the foot of their bed, followed by the realization that today was the day. They'd leap out from under the covers and dash down the stairs, where Mom would already be pulling a butterscotch-cinnamon casserole out of the oven. (Pies were her usual medium, but casseroles were for special occasions.) Dad would be standing in the living room, dressed in his Santa suit, hat, and false beard, and putting presents under the small tree on the rug. Azzy would point him out to Kris, and Dad would pretend to dash out the door in a panic. Then he'd return a few minutes later, having doffed his disguise, and point out the presents in mock surprise.

Somehow, even though Azzy must've found out the truth at some point, the display never failed to convince Kris that Santa had dropped into their living room. Looking back, it didn't make sense. Why wouldn't Mom have said something about that? How did Santa get in if the door was always locked at night? But it didn't matter if the whole thing was illogical. They wanted to believe, and back then, that was enough for them.

After a scrumptious, sugary breakfast, Kris and Azzy would open their presents while their parents watched. The process took a lot longer than Kris thought it really should've; they could easily tear open their gifts in three minutes flat, but Azzy insisted on carefully unfolding the wrapping paper enclosing his presents so he could reuse it later. That didn't make sense to Kris. Couldn't he just tape it back together if it got torn? Sure, it might look a little unsightly, but it's the thought that counts, right?

But Kris loved their brother, and they respected their parents. So every time they finished ripping a package to shreds, they waited for Azzy to finish opening his current present before opening another one.

Afterward, they'd go to church and attend the Christmas service with the Holidays. After an hour of having stories of the Angel and the birth of the Child drilled into their heads, they'd go outside. Mom and Dad would spend a few minutes catching up with Rudolph and Mayor Holiday (or Carol, but only Rudy was allowed to call her that), while Kris and Azzy would have a snowball fight with Noelle, Dess, and usually a few other churchgoers. Somehow, it never failed to snow on Christmas in Hometown. Every Christmas Kris could remember was white.

Once their parents were done talking about boring grown-up stuff, the Dreemurrs and Holidays would head over to QC's Diner for brunch. Kris and Azzy would order hot chocolate along with their entrees. If Kris tried hard enough, they could recall the smooth feeling of the sweet liquid running across their-