"It's a white Christmas," Lenka whispers almost wonderingly, and then she laughs at herself, the sound mocking and cold as the screaming of the wind. She knows. It's a white every-day, and after all these years, the days do tend to blend into each other. There shouldn't be anything special about an appropriated pagan celebration turned into worship of the commercial.
But there is, and Lenka is remembering tinsel and trees and mistletoe hanging parasitic. She's remembering the feeling of fire under her skin and lips above it and crushing frozen water between her fingertips like she can scatter it to the wind, send it to a thousand graves like she never got the chance to for so many of her friends.
Lenka is remembering drudging afternoons in church, plagued by the screams from the crematorium directly below, and Lenka is remembering looking to the sky and seeing a myriad miracles mapped out in the shapes of crystals formed from one of the most basic facts of her existence that is still nothing but clever air.
It's a white Christmas, and there is no church here, no mistletoe and ash. But Lenka stares out at the snow, and she remembers.
A/N: I don't know if I'm going to try and tie these together or just leave them as general Winter-y things that can occasionally be summed up as 'sad girl in snow'. All things considered, it probably won't entirely be crackfic. Probably.
~Mademise Morte, December 1, 2012.