What If We Believe [on hold]

2. Hear the melody that's playing

"TWAS THE NIGHT before Christmas, and the snow was gently falling, like little white fairies that danced upon the Winter. Music and laughter were all around, the sounds of Christmas cheer filling Clara's home, while she and her brother, Fritz, eagerly awaited their family's Christmas Eve festivities."

The room was silent, each whisper of a breath suspended upon the air into which Abel spoke. Not even Ellie dared make a peep.

As Abel spoke of toy soldiers and sugar plum fairies, his words traveled through his body, his arms moving in an echo of the acts he described.

"...At last, her pirouettes and turns brought her to the Christmas tree. Reaching up on the tips of her toes, she positioned the fairy as close to the top as she could, where it could look out over all the room and festivities."

Ashlyn's focus flitted to the sugar plum fairy hanging high upon her tree, and she smiled.

"...Clara pressed a kiss to her fingertips before she pressed it to the fairy's crown. Then, stepping back to admire her work, she gave a little giggle and twirled about the room, whispers of good tidings and joy, and the prince of her heart, the song to which she danced."

Sage shuffled closer, her thumb clasped firmly between her lips as Poppy made a sound caught somewhere between a gasp and a breath of awe.

Abel continued to speak of Uncle Drosselmeyer and the gifts he'd brought with him. Wind-up dolls and magic tricks seized his limbs, and a collective gasp rang out around the room when Clara's gaze first fell upon her nutcracker prince. A sniff fractured the silence when Fritz broke the nutcracker's arm in a bout of jealousy, and a muted cheer echoed when Drosselmeyer repaired his arm once again.

The door-frame pressed against her shoulder shifted with the ever-so-subtle shuffling of Ashlyn's feet, Abel's words drawing her closer towards him and deeper into the world of magic he wove.

Ashlyn leaned a little closer, her hand pressing against the wall beside her.

Suddenly, hands came down on her shoulders and gently massaged, and a pair of lips pressed against her cheek.

"What's a man gotta do for a dance with you?" Derek's breath was a warm caress upon her ear, and Ashlyn stifled a giggle.

With a half-assed shrug, she feigned indifference. A playful spark danced upon her features as she watched Derek's smirk form from the corner of her eye.

His fingers continued their gentle ministrations, and with each second, she felt another knot of the tension and anxiety she felt towards this weekend slipping away. Tilting her head to the side, she reached across her chest to cover his hand. The leather of his bracelet itched against her exposed collarbone while her fingers smoothed over the indents left by Liam's name.

"'These are just dreams created by her ardent fever,'" he quoted, taking Ashlyn by surprise. So he'd read The Nutcracker? Before she could say anything, the thought drifted away on a warm winter breeze.