Disclaimer: Trinity Blood is the creation of the late Sunao Yoshida and the poem "The Night Before Christmas was written by either Clement Clarke Moor or Henry Livingston (I've seen both credited so I put both to be sure). In other words I make no money from either…damn.
This is the first in a series of Trinity Blood holiday based one-shots revolving mostly around that wonderful Rosencreuz Orden that I'm doing in collaboration with the authoress Treebrooke.
The Night Before Christmas With Die Rosencreuz Orden
'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the meeting
Cain sat there naked, so no one except Eishexe was eating;
Weapons were stockpiled by the chimney with care,
In hopes that world renewing fire would soon be there;
The RCO was soon nestled all snug in their beds,
Unfortunately visions of a streaking Mein Herr danced in their heads;
With Susanne in her plane, and I with my computer,
Had just settled down for a long winter's slumber,
My head barely on the pillow when outside arose a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what caused the clamor.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the luster of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But the Fangs of the Church, the Inquisition was here,
With communicators in their ears, orders coming straight from Rome,
I knew in a moment it must be that dumb-ass Francesco.
Like a flock of vultures his Inquisitors came,
And he shouted out his orders and called them by name;
"Now, Sister Paula! now, Brother Phillipo! now, Brother Petros!
On, Brother Bartholomaios! and on Brother Matthaios!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now smash away! smash away! smash away all!"
As destructive as debris in a hurricane they flew,
When they meet with an obstacle, they just break through,
So up to Rosencreuz headquarters they ran,
It was so absurdly suicidal who in hell came up with this plan?
And then, in a instant, sounds of fighting that came hither
Masked the sound as someone down the chimney did slither.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Out of the fireplace Phillpo came with a bound.
He was dressed in Inquisitional colors, from head to foot,
And his clothes were stained with some blood and some soot;
He made quick work of Guderian and did a back-flip,
And one would have thought that he at least would trip.
His eyes – widely spaced, made him look like a fish!
I must be seeing things, well at least I can wish!
His overly large mouth made a queer looking grin,
And with a flick of his wrist there was no more Siegelind;
Blood on is wire pick dripped onto the floor,
And the joyful expression said he wanted more;
His fat little body made him look like an overgrown eel,
A sight worse than Cain naked; it made me feel ill.
He was chubby and plump, so disturbingly jolly,
I hoped I could make some Auto Jäger's in a hurry;
A twinkle in his eye and a twist of his head,
He caught sight of me and I was filled dread;
He made a high-pitched laugh, then went straight to his work,
A wire pick impaled my shoulder; then I started to jerk,
I screamed when I woke disturbing the quiet,
And the Old Man came in the room and told me to 'be silent;'
I looked around, and was now fully aware,
And told Isaak 'Happy Christmas' glad it had all been just a nightmare.
But I heard him exclaim, 'fore he walked 'round the corner,
"Happy Christmas to you too Brat, now get me more Jäger."
Yeah…I'm such a meanie making poor Dietrich have a nightmare :p. Please leave a review, but no flames would be greatly appreciated.
– The Midnight Changeling