Chapter Text
Once upon a long, long winter in a faraway place called Toyland, a group of less-than-thrilled occupants nestled around an old Lincoln logs bin that had been knocked over 10 Christmas’s back. What wasn't scavaged for building materials was left as a sort of community gathering spot. The wooden logs served as a circular seating area, and the bin tower was an admirable refuge from winter winds.
“This is stupid.” The newest toy of the bunch, Maria mumbled out.
“This is a tradition,” Eleanor, the oldest of the group, replied with her porcelain features taking on a scowl. “It's meant to alleviate the stress of this forsaken holiday.”
“Gift exchange? Really? That's the best way to make this whole situation better?”
“Just hand over the present already. I feel like we've been here hours.” From the side, Jen loudly proclaimed her boredom and flopped to the side into Paul’s lap.
Eleanor looked between the two troublemakers. She had gone out of her way to not only plan and invite them all here to distract from the worst time of the year, but she had painstakingly crafted something for the same person by whom she was being disrespected by. Elenore held her tongue as old habits leached into her thoughts and made the prospect of yelling out her grievances more tantalizing.
“Let us just continue,” She took a deep breath, grabbed the newspaper-wrapped gift at her feet, and presented it to Maria. “Shall we?”
As the night pressed on for our fine toy folk, the celebrations elated the spirit around the land. Toys were seen helping confused newcomers out of boxes and older folks ragging on about their plights with toy booze they had stored away, not thinking for one moment about the oncoming play hangover that awaited them the next day.
While all the messy joy and heartfelt sadness swept through the wind, a bright, shining light hovered above, observing the spectacle.
Chaos and bright ideas bundled into one entity roamed the open sky, looking for a person or group of people that could serve their purpose; the little light craved more than anything a nice pair of wings to show off and go further than they had been before. They needed to guide many people to earn them, and tonight was no exception.
As Eleanor began to wrap up the festivities and get ready for slumber, a sudden pain shot from her chest up. Faces of her friends and neighbors suddenly faded as her vision slowly crawled back and blotted out. It was horrendous as laughter echoed and deformed into an incoherent taunting; then, as if that wasn't enough, she was washed with deafening silence.
Panic bubbled forward as thoughts gathered in her head like a balloon about to burst. Everything happened so fast, yet it felt like it had taken hours. Time stretched on and snapped like a rubber band, hitting Eleanor directly in the face. To say it was a festivity ruiner was putting it as lightly as a mouse guiding a scared elephant.
Suddenly and without any warning, all of her toy senses surged back into motion as if nothing had happened in the first place. Tentatively, she opened her eyes and found a cardboard box surrounding her. The only point of sight was a little mouse hole at her eye level.
If Eleanor still had a heart, it would be trying to burst forward from her cotton chest. Instead, a ghostly pain twinged, and old panic raised itself from the recesses of her mind.
She recognized this box.
She recognized the parlor room she spotted from the hole.
She couldn't be here.
Snapping her out of the mind-numbing panic, a chorus of voices entered the room. An older gentleman chortled happily about the holiday, with more subdued responses from a familiar voice she couldn't quite place and a younger one that haunted all her nightmares.
“Father, as I have said before, I have no need for so many presents.”
“Nonsense. My daughter deserves the best and only that. Don't you agree, dear?”
“… Quite.”
“It was only last week you fell from the stairs! With so many injuries befalling you, let me lavish you this one holiday to compensate for the world's harshness.”
As the winter night rolled on and the sounds of paper being ripped away bounced off the walls, Eleanor stayed perfectly still in her box, praying that this was some sort of nightmare.
“Just one more, my dear Victoria,” A shuffle and her box was promptly lifted and settled down. “This one was custom-made just for you.”
Familiar eyes and warm lighting flooded into view.
Victoria frowned oh so slightly and held Eleanor up.
A huff from the couch distracted the scene as a tone of impatience soured the air.
“It’s broken. Shoddily made.”
Eleanor's husband looked over to his wife. The human version of his wife. He frowned slightly before moving forward to take the doll and figure something out. But the second he tried, Victoria moved back, holding onto her new toy with a vice grip.
“It's fine father. Really,” Victoria looked down and brushed a stray hair that had fallen into view. “I've been wanting to learn the art of porcelain. This can be a great opportunity for me to learn.”
“..Hmph, if you say so, dear Victoria. But do be careful; that porcelain can cut you if you're not diligent in your surroundings.”