Hello and welcome to this Christmas story. Now I know that RWBY does not take place in the real world, but I decided to write this anyway. Now these stories can be considered non-canon to my other stories (just as Stories From Have Academy are non-canon to RWBY). Also, these stories are a little odd, and don't really come to any sort of grand ending; they're just the Christmas celebrations for members of team SAFR. You want an actual story with something resembling a plot, go to chapter two and Rusti's little story.

Storm

The Winter break had come at Haven, and Storm had returned to his parent's house with Rain. His older siblings had moved out a while ago, but they would be there on Christmas for dinner. Right now he was spending time with his mom and dad—mostly his mom, Jayana. But both his parents were busy at this time of year, so he didn't get to spend much time with him.

So he did the one thing they had neglected: setting up the Christmas tree. Rain was uninterested, much to Storm's frustration. Tress—his older sister—usually did the tree with his help, but since she wasn't around anymore to do it, the duty fell upon him.

He started by getting out the fake pine tree they kept in the garage. They'd used it year after year, since it would just be foolish and costly to buy a new tree each time. Besides, he liked the old thing, even though the built-in lights didn't work. He set it up where they always did on a small table in the corner of the living room.

It was about to his shoulders on the small table, as it always was. He got out the ornaments, the chains of lights, the wooden bows they had painted almost ten years ago, and all the other decorations they'd used for years. He put the decorations on the tree. Though tedious, no one could argue with the results.

Once that was done, he went to the pile of presents in his parent's room. They'd told him to put them under the tree once he was done setting up. He carried them, sometimes two or three at a time, and put them under a tree. They were mostly done up in wrapping paper they hadn't used before—so they did eventually run out.

One of the presents caught his eye. It was round, hard, and long like some sort of canister, and in wrapping paper that screamed that his parents didn't buy that. He checked the tag—it was for him and from Patricia! Why did Patricia give him a present if they hadn't been in contact at all since he went to Haven?

He decided to forget about it for now. Thinking about it wasn't going to help him, and he would forget it anyway until Christmas morning.

Eventually, he got it all set up. It looked nice, with red and gold adorning the green tree. It looked different than when Tress did it, but that didn't really matter.

What mattered was whatever he was going to do next.

Christmas morning was upon them, and Storm was down opening presents. He, Rain, and their parents were taking turns opening them. They were going oldest to youngest, so that meant Storm went last every time.

The first present he decided to open was the one from Patricia, as he wondered about that one. He teared through the wrapping, and he was right about it being a canister. He opened it, and inside was a magnificent painting.

It was somewhat impressionistic. It was of a golden sunrise cresting a grassy hill that he found hard to describe. It was something that he assumed was good. It seemed like all the colors of the rainbow were on the canvas.

He looked on the back. It was signed by Patricia Saint, along with a note saying: To a friend who has never let me down.

He smiled. So this was what having an artist for a friend was like.

"What have you got there?" his dad asked. He showed it to him. "Wow! Patricia did that?"

"Yep." He looked at it again. It was really quite something.

"That's pretty good."

"What is it?" Rain asked. Storm showed it to him. "Eh. It's alright."

He was shocked at Rain's nonchalant attitude towards it. This had been made by their own friend Patricia! Why wasn't Rain more impressed? Ah, it didn't matter. For Storm, this was the best Christmas present he'd had in a while, and he'd always remember this.

Azura

Azura came into the village, her pack on her back. The snow crumpled beneath her feet. Her eyes wandered over the wooden built houses, and a smile came to her face. She was home.

She went to her family's house, and on the wide porch sat her mother, knitting. She had a blanket draped over her, and mittens with the tips of the fingers removed. She looked up from her knitting, and smiled. "Back from your adventures already?" she said.

"Winter break," Azura explained.

"Well, isn't that a waste of time." Her mother looked down again. "But a good waste."

Azura laughed and went to hug her mother. "Merry Christmas, mom."

"Merry Christmas." When Azura drew away her mother said, "Go around back. I don't think your father knows you're here yet."

She went around the house to see her father, who was gathering logs for the fireplace. What he had her chop in the summer would be useful now. He looked at her with surprised, and then understanding. "Winter break, eh?" he said.

"Yeah," she replied.

"I remember the first winter break I had." A smile spread across his face, and his eyes went somewhere else, as they did when he got nostalgic. His smile disappeared, and he looked back to Azura. "I left that out of the tapes for a reason."

"I can only imagine." She really didn't want to though.

"Well, tonight will be something special then." He walked into the house through the back door. "Not only is it Christmas, but my daughter's homecoming."

That night was one of celebration. After dinner, Azura and her father went to the town hall for the annual Christmas dance. Her mother didn't come, as her wheelchair tended not to work so well on snow—and she actually couldn't dance. But Azura danced all the same, despite her lack of skill.

After dancing, she and her father returned home for something special. Her father brought a bottle of cider out of the cellar. He'd brought a case of cider with him when he came out to live in the village, and every Christmas he, her mother, and more recently Azura, had a glass of it to celebrate. He was down to his last bottle now, but that wouldn't get in the way of tradition.

He poured the cider, and handed one glass to Azura and another to her mother. The last glass was for her father, and had less cider than the others. The bubbly liquid burned down Azura's throat. It harkened back memories of Christmases long past—of sitting by the fireplace, playing with her doll.

She had no idea what happened to that doll, but it didn't really matter.

She was with her family, and that was all that mattered.

Feather

Dinner was quiet. No conversation went between Feather and either of her parents. The food was good, and that was what she remembered most about Christmases past.

Presents had never been many. This year she got a sweater, which was about as much as she got some years. Only when years were good did Feather get two or even three presents. This year had been a little better than most, considering that Feather hadn't been around as much to eat their food for the past few months.

Eventually, Feather decided to ask something. While it may open some old wounds, she had to ask her parents this. "Did Talon come back at all?"
Her mother's feathers rustled and her father slammed his fist on the table. "No he did not," he said softly. "And he never will. Now be thankful that we have even have each other."

Her hopes had been dashed. She suppressed a tear. She continued eating without more saying more than two words after.

When she was done, she excused herself before leaving the table. She went to her room, and stayed there.

There wasn't anything else to do—she didn't feel like reading that night—so she went to sleep.

She was woken by sounds of violence outside her window. Probably some gangs got into a fight or something. In any case, she didn't want to get involved, but wished it would stop!

Soon the sounds ceased, and she could sleep easy. She was about to drift into sleep when she got a chill—both from her aura telling her someone was there, and by a sudden drop in temperature. She looked up and a man with a dark coat stood in her room. She didn't panic because, even if the light from the streetlights wasn't enough to see his face, he recognized his aura. "Talon," she said.

He was quiet. His feathers moved slightly from the wind coming from her open window. He took a small box from his coat, and put it at the foot of her bed. He was about to leave out the window when he turned back and said, "Merry Christmas, Feather."

He closed the window behind him as he leapt out.

She waited a minute for the air to warm up again before venturing out to see what was in the box. It was simple, and about as large as her fist. She opened it up and amongst the tissue paper was a single small jewel. She picked it up with utmost care, and found the jewel was attached to a necklace.

Then there was a note. She turned on her reading lamp to see what it said, and got her glasses. It read: For the one whom I have loved throughout the years. It was signed by Talon.

A teardrop rolled down her cheek and she smiled. This was a Christmas she would remember forever.

Aren't those the sappiest things I've ever done?