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Chapter 1- Toris' Ghost Marley- Toris (lithuania)
Scrooge- Ivan (russia)
Cratchit- Berwald (sweden)
Scrooge's nephew- Matthew (Canada)
Charity workers- Antonio and Lovino (spain and romano)
Toris was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner. Ivan signed it: and Ivan's name was good upon 'Change, for anything he chose to put his hand to. Old Toris was dead as a doornail.
Mind! I don't mean to say that I know, of my own knowledge, what there is particularly dead about a doornail. I might have been been inclined to say that a nail in a coffin is the deadest piece of metalwork. Therefore, should you permit me, I shall repeat. Toris was dead as a doornail.
The memory of his funeral takes me back to what I have said. Toris was dead, and this must be established before we may continue our story. When Toris died Ivan never painted out his name, so 7 years it still stand on the sign. Ivan will respond to either name as of now, becoming so used to it.
Ivan was cold and greedy, his violet eyes never displaying kindness, and his russian features etched into his face forever. Also, he was a very unloved and unloving man. No person ever stopped to give him a friendly hello on the street, and he never gave abything to anyone. Well, except for himself.
Our story begins in a small counting office on a particularly dark christmas eve. Snow fell steadily outside painting the streets of London in a blanket of white. A fire burned brightly near Ivan's desk casting a glow over the floor and the small area. In the small room next to it sat Ivan's helper Berwald Oxenstierna. The small fireplace sitting in his office was dying, giving off no heat. His ratty coat giving little warmth.
"Merry Christmas, uncle! And God save you!" A man's voice rang. The voice of Ivan's Nephew and the only thing warning him of Mathew's arrival.
"Bah! Humbug!" Ivan said as Matthew stepped into his office.
"Surely you do not mean such a thing as to call Christmas a humbug, Uncle?" Matthew spoke cheerfully, his face red from the cold and his hair windblown.
"Ah, but I do mean such a thing, Nephew. What reason have you to be merry? You are poor." Ivan said, eyes never leaving his work.
"Then tell me what reason have you to be sad! You are rich."
Ivan remained unphased by his nephew's antics. and having no better response merely said "Bah! Humbug!" again.
"Why must you insist on being upset?"
"What else is there to be? I live in a world of fools. Merry Christmas? Fuck merry Christmas!It is merely just a time for bills without money to pay them, and a time for another year added to miserable life yet you are not a penny richer. If I could get what I wanted every fool walking around with 'Merry Christmas' uttered from his mouth would be boiled in his own pudding and buried with a stake of holly in his chest!"
"But, uncle!"
"But nothing, nephew! Keep Christmas your was and I'll keep it mine!"
"You do not keep it, unlce."
"Then why don't you leave me to let it be alone!? Much good has is ever done you!"
"I have always imagined Christmas as a good time. A time for happiness and kindness. The only time of year everyone opens their hearts and thinks of those below them as their equals. Although it has never done me any good, I will continue to say 'God bless it!'"
The clerk in his small cell applauded but abruptly stopping at a nasty glare from Ivan.
"You are quite a powerful speaker," Ivan said turning to Matthew. "Why not put it to use and go into Parliament?"
"Do not be cross, uncle. Come and have dinner with us tomorrow!" Matthew said, his happy demeanor never faltering.
"Yes nephew, I'm so going to come to your house and waste my valuable time just eat dinner with you and Yekaterina." Ivan said sarcastically.
"Why though?!"
"Why did you get married?" Ivan raised one eyebrow.
"Because I fell in love."
"Ha, thats funny." Ivan laughed. "that may be more ridiculous than a merry Christmas. Good afternoon!"
"No, uncle. You never came over until after I was married. Why use it as a reason to not come now?"
"Good afternoon," Ivansaid, tension evident in his voice.
"A want nothing from you, just the knowledge of why we cannot be friends."
"Good afternoon." The tension became greater.
"I wish you would not be so stubborn. I shall keep Christmas in good humour. Merry Christmas, Uncle!"
"Good afternoon!" Ivan's voice rose.
"And a happy new year!" Matthew called leaving the o"ffice.
"GOOD AFTERNOON!" Ivan yelled. Matthew said a hearty farewell to the clerk and walked back into the cold as two men entered.
"Braginsky and Laurinaitis I presume. Do I gain the pleasure of addressing Mr. Braginsky, or Mr. Laurinaitis?" The first man said holding out a business card. He had short brown hair and a large smile gracing his face. The man next to him was considerably grumpier and looked annoyed.
"Toris Laurinaitis has been dead seven years exactly." Ivan replied.
"Anyways, we are collecting money for the poor who cannot ake care of themselves this holiday season. Hundreds of thousands are needing common comforts, Mr. Braginsky." the man said picking up a pen.
"Are there no prisons?" Ivan said no hint of caring in his voice.
"Plenty, sir."
"And are the Union workhouses still in operation?"
"Yes, although i wish them to be otherwise." The man set down his pen.
"The Treadmill and the Poor Law still lively?"
"Yes, both are rather busy."
"Well good, I was woried by your statement that something had happened to cause a disruption." Ivan said smiling in his weird, creepy, not happy at all way.
The man paused a moment. "Anyways, sir, a few of us are attempting to raise money for food and drink for those in need of them. What shall we put you down for?"
"Nothing."
"Oh," the man said, "You wish to be anonymous?"
"No, actually what I wish to be, is left alone. I help support the establishments aforementioned and do not give two shits about the poor. If they are badly off then they must go there.
"Many cannot, and many would rather die."
"Then let them, and decrease the population. It is enough for men to understand his own buisiness and mine occupies me. Good afternoon, gentlemen." The men left seeing that it was a lost cause. Giving a slight good bye to Berwald as he held open the door for them. _^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_
A/N: so im going to split this into chapter halves instead of the whole thing. I'll hopefully have the whole thing up by Christmas. -Daemi.