“Well, read through the book. You can borrow my Player’s Handbook and the Monster Manual too. See if you get inspiration.”
Rusty’s tail puffed up as he took the three books, and he smiled wide enough to show his canines. “Really? You’re sure you don’t mind?”
“Not at all. I really do prefer being a player. But if you read through it and don’t wanna be the DM, that’s fine too. We can go with the campaign I’ve been planning.” He clapped Rusty on the shoulder. “Give it go. Text me if you have questions.”
“Thanks, man,” Rusty said as a low purr vibrated in his chest. Then he was scurrying away, sidling up to Gem as the Araknis ran several hands absently through the fur on his back and head.
Upon returning home that evening, Bryce found Zef decorating a short, stout evergreen-adjacent tree. Well, technically, it looked more like a bush,but it had similar needle-like foliage. They had draped tinsel and streamers over it, and they’d even hung homemade paper snowflakes from the branches as ornaments.
Frozen in the entry, Bryce gaped at the Hellian Christmas tree as Zef fidgeted with the buttons of their shirt with their lower hands, their top hands worrying the end of their braid. “I know it is not exact,” they said, wings fluttering with nervous energy, “but it is the closest genus we have to your human Christmas trees. Nan assisted me in picking it out, and she also advised me on the decorations. It does not look like the pictures I found on the internet, but I hope it will suffice.”
Emotion clogged Bryce’s throat, cutting off his ability to speak, and his silence made Zef even more anxious. Their antennas curled inward, their wings vibrating as they worried their bottom lip with their small, blunt teeth.
“I know you are disappointed that you cannot be with your family for Christmas, so I thought, if it is agreeable, we could celebrate together. I read it is customary to exchange gifts and wear special holiday clothing and pray to a magical baby that lives in a barn. I will not take part in the last tradition, but I would very much like to observe.”
They pointed to the side table standing between the two lounge chairs, where they’d set up a nativity scene. “I have already set up the altar in what I believe to be the most common configuration with the magical baby in the center. There were several arguments online over the inclusion of the drummer boy”—they bent down and retrieved even more figurines from a box—“and whether the animals in the barn should be typical livestock or more inclusive with a ca-meel?” They stumbled over the pronunciation. “I assumed you would make the final call on that depending on your personal preference.”
Moisture burned his eyes, blurring his vision as he swallowed thickly, and Zef released an alarmed clicking sound in the back of throat. “Oh dear, you are about to cry. Is it the altar or the tree? I can throw them both away if—”
“No, it’s great,” Bryce choked out, clearing his throat as he wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Really, Zef, it’s perfect.”
They slumped in relief. “Oh. Good.”
“You didn’t have to do all this.”
“I know. I did it because I wanted to,” they said matter-of-factly. “I hoped it would help you feel less sad, but now you are crying, so I am confused.”
“Good tears,” he reassured them, wiping at his cheeks as he chuckled awkwardly. “These are good tears, I promise. If you were human, I’d be hugging you right now.”
Another odd series of clicks trilled from the Mantodea, and he swore their cheeks darkened in a delicate blush. They cautiously closed the distance between them until they stood within arm’s length. For a moment, Bryce thought they were going to hug him, and his stomach dropped to his toes. They didn’t, of course.
Instead, they stretched out one hand and patted his shoulder three times. “There, there,” they said, and he burst into wet laughter.
“Thank you. Really, this is… it really means a lot.”
Zef smiled tentatively, antennas unfurling until they stood tall once more. “You are very welcome. I am looking forward to experiencing human Christmas with you.”
“Me too,” Bryce said, slowly reaching out to give the end of their braid a playful tug. “I don’t pray to baby Jesus, though.”
Another wave of relief washed over their expression. “I will be honest, I am relieved. I found the story rather appalling, what with the nonconsensual impregnation of a child who was then forced to give birth outside surrounded by animal excrement.”
“Spoiler alert, the baby dies in the end,” Bryce whispered, and Zef reared back.
“How horrifying.”
When Christmas finally arrived, it fell on a Friday, which meant Bryce had to go to class and Zef was working. By unspoken agreement, they celebrated the holiday on Saturday, instead. Bryce managed to sleep in, waking around nine to the smell of coffee and something sweet baking. Zef’s dulcet tones echoed down the hall from the kitchen, and Bryce sat up in confusion when he heard Nan’s voice responding.
As quietly as he could, Bryce tiptoed out of his room and snuck to the mouth of the hallway, blatantly eavesdropping as Zef video-called with his grandmother.
“Why is it not working? I followed your instructions diligently,” Zef was saying as they crouched in front of the oven.
“I don’t know, kid.” Nan’s voice crackled through Zef’s phone speaker. “But those cinnamon rolls are looking chopped, no cap.”
“Nan, this is no time for your popular human vernacular that I do not understand!” Zef snapped heatedly. “This is an emergency. Bryce’s Christmas breakfast is melting.”
Grinning obnoxiously, Bryce propped his shoulder against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest as he listened to Zef and Nan bicker over whose fault it was that the cinnamon rolls weren’t rising. Zef claimed that Nan’s instructions were faulty, while Nan insisted Zef must have made amistake. Zef, of course, took great offense to this, their wings flaring out like an insect under threat trying to make themself bigger.
“Is the oven even on?” Nan asked, and Zef whistled in annoyance.
