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The sea-sky was blue, the birds were chirping (how the heck were there birds in the middle of–you know what, that’s a question for another day), and the kids were running around singing Christmas carols– Wait, wait, hold on, birds under the sea were one thing, but Christmas carols? In Atlantis? In this economy?
The General Lymnades followed the trail of conch shells painted as what could only be described as Christmassy. Which couldn’t be the case, could it? Caça hadn’t been so integrated into the Atlantean culture yet, but one thing they were sure of: Lord Poseidon was the boss down there, so Christian celebrations should be forbidden, right?
Right?
With quick steps and agile movements to hide (they weren’t used to being perceived with this physique yet), the scrawny Marina finally stopped to silently watch the kids who had come from the surface no doubt explaining to the others the need to get socks. The Atlantean kids nodded in excitement, although clearly confused, at the tale of how they were expected to receive gifts from a white-bearded plump man they’ve never seen in their lives.
A tale repeated every December in most Pillar Zones, Caça would later learn, until the surfacers had become so accustomed to their new lives that Santa Claus would have completely lost its meaning compared to living under the ocean. And then new surfacer children would arrive, and the cycle would start again.
But right now, Caça simply stayed listening to the tallest boy in the group.
“Only good kids get gifts,” the child was saying, and bit his lips before completing the idea. It seemed he had considered leaving out how naughty kids would get something entirely different.
Good kids, huh? Lymnades snorted. Yeah, sure. More like rich kids whose parents weren’t drunkards, they thought with a sting in their heart.
“The Trierarch told you to stop lurking like that.”
“Eek!” Caça jumped out of their hiding spot, annoyed at Chrysaor. He had the irritable habit of being far too sneaky. “Fuck, wear a bell or something!”
The older Marina grumbled but took the opportunity to understand the scene in front of them. “So the fishys do celebrate Christmas?”
“Celebrate is a stretch.” The black man gestured to the other to follow him. The kids were loud, and Krishna had no tolerance for noise at the moment. Or at any moment, really.
“Surfacers are always pestered with questions when they arrive, but then Atlantean kids get bored quickly. Few things surprise you when you live in a sunken realm among mermaids and odd-looking sea creatures. Yet then December comes, and all of a sudden earthlings are exciting again.”
“So, what you’re saying–”, Caça looked back at the kids. “Is that they will wait for Santa Claus? What will happen when they don’t get gifts tonight?”
Krishna shrugged. “Last year I heard they were making up excuses. ‘Santa Claus didn’t ask Lord Poseidon’s permission to enter,’ ‘he went to their old surface’s houses,’ and my personal favorite, ‘Scylla tore Rudolph to shreds so Santa Claus had to go back.’
The Chrysaor General chuckled just thinking about that one again.
“Why are you surprised, anyway? Surfacers always come with their traditions, even us.”
Caça bit the inner side of their cheek. “Shouldn’t this be, you know, forbidden, since we aren’t, you know… you know.”
“I’m guessing you grew up in a culture that believed in only one god, but I can’t exactly relate to that, and neither can the Atlanteans.”
“One thing is to praise the old gods, man, but Santa Claus?”
“I don’t know what to tell you, maybe this year they’ll blame Charybdis and complain to the Kybernetes himself. Just let them have their fun. Didn’t you celebrate Christmas when you were up there?”
The Sri Lankan didn’t catch the twitch in the other warrior’s eyes. The sudden memory of his own mother giving him Christmas gifts “because it was fun” suddenly warmed his heart. “They’re kids, they deserve some joy. ”
Caça stared at their brother in arms for maaaybe too long. In a quick movement, Krishna grabbed the collar of their shirt.
“Don’t you dare look at my heart or you’ll discover how deep my lance can go up your ass.”
“I wasn’t looking~,” the black-haired one grinned as he raised their hands innocently. They were definitely looking.
Krishna let them go. “Leave them alone. And go find something better to do than to lurk or–”
“Yes, yes, your lance, my ass, blah blah blah.”
* * *
Caça stared at the floor, oblivious to the noise of a lively Atlantis that refused to be forgotten and buried under the weight of the oceans.
They had been trying to remember a happy Christmas the whole afternoon, but every single memory was filled with yelling, cursing, and thrown glass bottles. They could still hear the soft sobbings of their mother as she protected them with her arms. Not that her love could save them both anyway, but oh, how hard she had tried.
Caça did remember the delicious smell of her rabanadas on that last Christmas morning. If only the bastard of their father hadn’t thrown the plate across the room. But then momma had waited until the fricking drunk was asleep and revealed to a shaking lil’ Caça two rabanadas, kept safe under the bed because she knew what would happen.
She had always tried to shield them, to give them something to cling to on the bad days. And how many bad days they had had…
Caça fidgeted, an idea already forming in their twisted mind.
* * *
The idea was stupid alright. So very stupid. Still, Caça chuckled as they kicked the heel of the right boot to adjust it. But stupid as the idea was, something deep inside them was feeling warm.
Eyes closed to evoke the image again; limbs started to get plumpy and soft. Soon, that body was feeling chubby, joyful, and bearded.
Now, the gifts would be a liiitle harder to get, but nothing was impossible for a Marina General alright.
* * *
“I told you Lord Poseidon doesn’t let anybody in.”
Even if the young mermaid was bummed, she didn’t let the others notice. It was the third year in a row that the surfacers had been wrong; no socks on the chimney and no cookies on the table had dragged the magical old hag they kept talking about.
“We should sing next time to lure him in,” she ventured in a soft voice.
“Yes!” Estevão, the boy leading the small gang, smiled again. “I’m sure he’ll be able to enter Atlantis if you sing!”
“And then we can trap him with a fish net!”
“What–No!”
“It’s late anyway.” She was right; they had been traveling between the Pillar Zones all night. They were now in the South Pacific’s near a night market because, according to the others, the countries in that area were the last ones to get Santa’s visit. It was their last chance.
Her comment seemed to shatter what was left of hope for the rest of her friends, but then Estevão stood up with a jump from the small circle and pointed with his index finger at a red spot with… Were those sharks pulling a sleigh?
“It’s Santa Claus!!”
Everyone raised their eyes, scanning the sea-sky, including the night vendors.
“That's just a redfish.” The mermaid squinted, trying to take a better look now. All of her friends were agape. No one moved for a moment, unsure of what to do next. Was that really–
“¡El Viejo Pascuero!”
Io, one of the trainees of that Pillar Zone, sprinted to the red figure, followed immediately by the rest of the kids to meet the weirdest Santa Claus any of them had ever seen; one that looked too fat and then too thin, too tall, too short, too… Wobbly.
The children surrounded Santa Claus as he opened his old bag to reveal crappily wrapped gifts that he started giving to each kid.
“Ho, ho, ho, Merry Christmas, kiddos!” he chanted as the kids jumped around him.
The small mermaid wrinkled her nose. She was a trainee too, and she had just caught the trick. “Aren't you the Lymnades General?”
Santa Claus lowered to her height, a creepy smile on his face. “Take the gift or leave, girl,” he whispered.
She frowned, but still she extended her arms to receive her own gift.
All the kids were now talking at the same time as they described Atlantis to a smiling Caça in disguise. A poorly made disguise alright, they were still tuning their illusions. Even so, they were having the time of their lives.
Maybe Christmas was not too bad. Not under the sea, at least. No, it was not bad at all.
* * *
“Aren't you going to stop them?”
Kanon drank more beer, watching from afar the ridiculous show with Clymene. She side-looked at him, then at the kids surrounding the Lymnades General with happy jumps.
“Caça probably stole those gifts from the night vendors.”
The commander snorted. “Oh I know they did, Jasha saw them a few hours ago. It’s alright, we'll pay for them tomorrow with some good ol’ Solo’s money. But look, even they are having fun.”
Clymene had to admit he was right. She herself was enjoying the scene in front of their eyes: kids and vendors laughing and chanting now. She looked at the Trierarch again, who seemed lost in his thoughts.
Kanon had never celebrated Christmas. The lights, the carols, the gifts; all of that was too foreign for him. December was just another month to train to exhaustion.
He smiled as he chugged again.
“They can have their fun tonight. But I’ll make sure Caça knows we’re expecting gifts next year. Expensive ones.”