"~It's the most won~der~ful time of the year~"
The twitching pain behind your right eye was evidence enough that such a statement was made while highly inebriated by someone who never worked in a cubicle. A part of you was debating if you current job as an accountant was any better than when you were a retail worker during this time of year. A decision that possibly even Thanos couldn't make, much to your amusement. Dealing with a crush of customers all looking for things sold out a week ago and every Karen in the tri-state area was horrible, doubly so for your introverted self. Equally horrible was staring at a screen for 8+ hours a day making sure the numbers added up and avoiding Manager Karen Supreme as she patrolled the cubicles looking for the slightest infractions to punish.
No, it was easy, the retail job might have been bad, but it wasn't quite to the point of soul-sucking that this office could bring about. Sure, the grocery chain was run with the intent of making money and not sense, but the managers hadn't been out to get you. Corporate types who never worked the floor made grand policy decisions without consulting the employees who'd been working for 20+ years based on the sole idea is that it sounded good on paper. Like switching the locations of everything in in the store every once in a while, or changing the brand name packaging to something completely different. Idea was the customer would spend more time looking for something and find other things to purchase, but all it did was upset them. It was much like the idea of flying cars and green energy, they both sound good on paper, but implementing them in reality doesn't end well. You'd joke with your retail coworker about how if a fire broke out, you'd go down to Isle 6 and grab some jumbo marshmallows for roasting, or perhaps to the beer section. This place made you want to go grab the lighter fluid and help things out a little bit.
It wasn't the job itself, which while frustrating, was simple math you'd learned back in elementary school, just keeping things balanced. It was actually really easy once you had all the information you needed, and while you did need to rummage through the file cabinets, everything was kept in order. It was more the reason for that order, being Manager Supreme Karen and her team of loyal bootlicks and brownnosers. Everything had to be done a particular way, clothing had to be properly press, shoes could not be scuffed. they would always pick out something that was "wrong," and give the employee a lecture on how to "better maintain the Company's image. And it wasn't as though you could go to the HR person and ask for them to step in...even if you wanted to.
The head of HR was the sister of the guy who ran this building, though he wasn't the CEO of the Company itself. Both were good looking early 30's executive types, well mannered and good looking, and everyone with an office seemed to like them. To say they creeped you the fuck out was much like saying that water was wet, and worst of all, you had no idea why. Back in retail, one of the associates spoke in a tone that made you feel a desperate need to scrub yourself clean. These people somehow radiated a WRONGNESS you could feel from a floor away, as though you instinctively knew where they were standing. You did everything in your power to avoid these people, even if you didn't understand why.
Worse, it seemed lately they were happening by with increasing frequency over the past few months. Nobody else seemed to notice, but you did, and the worst part was it was all subconscious. Occasionally, the hair on the back of your neck would stand on damn end, and you thanked God for your time in retail. With a completely unconcerned face, you'd casually look around, and one of them would always be there, as though moments ago they had been looking straight at you. You'd started carrying one of those 3 inch folding knives in your right sock, careful to keep it a secret. Granted if you needed to pull it on the Gruesome Twosome, they'd probably break your arm in a heartbeat, but it was better than nothing.
Well, it wasn't major, just tedious, and was probably for after the Christmas holiday, but who were you t argue with an intern of Manager Karen Supreme? That, and apparently, the male twin of the Gruesome Twosome had extended an invitation to the corporate portion of the yearly Christmas party. Most of the employees at the company got the hot dog and hamburger dinner with soda in red solo cups kind of deal. As for the upper office management staff, they got a professionally catered dinner, the kind that would cost you a month's salary to have. That, and apparently, a bonus check for a few thousand dollars, for being an exceptional worker. To say that you interpreted this as too good to be true was much like declaring fire to be kind of warm.
The moment the clock struck six, you were shutting down the computer, grabbing a bite to eat, and heading directly home for Christmas Eve. Might not be a bad idea to start looking for a new job, one with a decidable less hostile work environment. As you finish another row in the Excel table, you curse yourself for being a responsible adult and not leaving this to someone else. This shit just wasn't worth it, but you didn't have anything else to do really, practically no social life save for a few Facebook friends and the occasional call to your parents. Speaking of calls, nature just rang you up, and twenty minutes before end of shift. There's a squeak from the possibly ancient and definitely uncomfortable chair as you get up and make your way to the men's room. Along the way, you pass by some windows that overlook your parking spot, and come to a dead stop.
You knew the news was unreliable, but you expected the weather team to be at least somewhat truthful. The forecast had said a potential for a flurry late in the afternoon, not what looked like a small fucking blizzard dumping heaps of snow outside. It looked like a good foot of the shit had settled on the ground, and it was still coming down hard. Less than two hors ago, it had been little white flakes that weren't sticking, and there is your car, now just another white lump in the parking lot. Wonderful...you've been snowed in at work, and it looks like most of the employees left before they were trapped here.
There was absolutely no question whatsoever, that you would be spending the night in you car. You had a survival blanket, warm clothes, a bag of those hand warmer pads, and absolutely no desire to sleep in an office building, much less one you worked at. Entering the bathroom, you pause to look at yourself in the mirror, examining the tired looking reflection that would never stand out from the crowd. Anonymity didn't bother you that much, and wasn't worth thinking about while doing your business.
Once done, you moved to stand up, only to become lightheaded and dizzy. At first, you chalk it up to stress, but it only gets worse, as sound seems to become muted, and your limbs felt like limp noodles. Everything feels like it's going numb, as though you're suffering from extreme dehydration, but you drink regularly. With your head feeling like it's been stuffed with cotton, you simply slump into the space between the toilet and side of the stall before darkness overtakes your vision
A moment later, your brain does the fake fall thing
twitch
And with that sudden, involuntary act, you gasp and sit up in the bathroom stall, chest heaving and heart hammering. You're covered in sweat, and left wondering what the absolute hell just happened? At the very least, you didn't soil yourself when you passed out, so there's a good chunk of your dignity intact. Getting up, you check your wristwatch, and feel your heart skip a beat or two. It was 6:19P.M., you'd been passed out in the bathroom for forty minutes...yu were definitely going to get an earful once work resumed again. Possibly, it wasn't unheard of for this sort of thing to happen, so they probably wouldn't throw you out the door.
After washing up, you head back to your cubicle, both to shut down your work station until after the New Year, and to retrieve your stuff. The office is now dark, lit sparsely by lonely florescent tubes in accordance with some emergency code. As you pass by the windows once more, you pause and wonder just how cold it is outside, because now they're frosted over. Reaching out a hand to determine if you should stay inside, you draw it back when glowing lines appear. Carefully, you extend your hand forth again, waving it around slowly.
The lines aren't random, they're some sort of runes, like one would expect from Vikings or another Nordic culture. At first, they glow an icy blue, then orange as your hand got closer. Closer still, they threw off small sparks and a bit of heat, and you didn't risk touching them. Pulling away, the runes faded back into the frost, which seemed to match with the patterns of frost. Okay...that's really weird, you must have hit your head hard when you passed out. That, and combined with the stress was probably the best explanation, you didn't have any other really, and magic didn't exist. At the very least, you were fairly certain magic didn't exist. Whatever this was, it wasn't as important as getting some food, and finding a safe place to sleep for the night, such as one of the supply closets.
As you made your way back to the cubicle, you though you heard a clanking noise, like a cowbell. Turning, you saw nothing, well, nothing new in the hallway leading to the rows of cubicles. With a shrug, you resumed walking, arriving at your cubicle to save and shut down until the holidays are over. Until then, you won't be answering the phone or checking your email, you'd done plenty of overtime for the company anyhow. Gathering your jacket and your lunchbox, you start on your way down to the Christmas party, when you hear that odd clanking again. You briefly consider searching for whatever is making that noise before deciding, fuck that horror movie bullshit. And with that, you head for the staircase.
Going down a floor, you begin to feel a little odd, like some kind of warmth was creeping around you as you got closer to the conference room. It wasn't like the air was turning warm, no, the warmth seemed to come from inside you, an odd fuzzy feeling. Once again, your brain does the fake fall thing, though not quite as badly since your awake. As you reach the hallway, you hear conversation and lively Christmas music, which is rather odd, mostly because everyone seemed to die a little on the inside working here. It's only when you pass through the doors and into the room that you start having a mental breakdown.
The conference room was usually gray, and could induce sleep in a methamphetamine fueled wolverine, much less you and your co-workers. Which was why the warm atmosphere and subtle golden glow, along with animated conversation were a little strange. You also spotted what looked like people in costumes moving around, setting up actual decorations...which was really odd, because you were fairly certain Management would have a fit about fur-suiters being in the building. They barely even tolerated the Christmas Sweater contest some of your co-workers engaged in on Christmas Eve, Manager Karen Supreme being chief among them. Such line of thinking was interrupted by the rapid approach of two figures, both of which set alarms blaring inside your noggin.
One was one of the cosplayers, and upon closer scrutiny, most definitely wasn't a costume, as you doubted a person's legs could ever end in...hooves...you wanted to say. That, and the ears on "her" head moved of their own accord, and convinced you she wasn't some girl dressed up as a reindeer. She was shorter than you, minus her antlers, and would probably be fairly attractive were she human. Her outfit consisted of leather armor that wouldn't be out of place in Skyrim, complete with a small hand-axe hanging from her hip. Under normal circumstances, you'd probably stare longer than would be polite and possibly fear for your life. It was the person walking next to and talking with her that was more concerning.
Dave was one of the older staff in the Accounting department of the Company, having been working here for years, and it showed. He shambled along usually, speaking in a monotone voice, and had a grayish hue to his dry looking skin. His face usually bore an equally dead expression, his soul sucked out by the florescent lights years before your arrival. Never speaking unless prompted, much like an overworked NPC office worker, if a little too real. Which is why the facsimile before you cannot be Dave, at the very least you don't think so.
He's smiling, actually smiling, which as far as you knew was something he was completely incapable of doing. His skin was no longer gray, his cheeks were flushed, it looked as though he's reverse-aged 20 years. Hell, he even moved with a spring in his step, and was talking animatedly with the deer-girl? Having mastered the art of looking around without moving your head, you noticed all the office staff were in a similar state. They were all talking, either with each other or one of the deer people, and drinking from tall ceramic tankards. Did they not notice what was going on or had you somehow gone insane?
"James, where've you been," He says with far too much enthusiasm, "Few of us were getting worried about you."
"I passed out in the bathroom," You say slowly, not sure who or what to look at, "Did we get a new catering company or something?"
Dave nods a few more times than need-be, "Yep, other guys had to cancel, we really lucked out."
"I'm surprised," You state numbly, "I'm surprised Corporate was able to find replacements so quickly, no offence."
Doubly so with the fact the office was practically snowed in. Hell, who could mobilize in less than 20 minutes for a last minute Christmas party? Corporate wouldn't even care if you guys didn't have a Christmas party anyways, so what was all this? Externally though, you kept your facial expression confused but unalarmed, would not look good on you if you just started making random accusations.
"It wasn't much trouble, we were already in the area. Our original destination had to cancel, and we learned of an opening here," The Deer girl explained, "I'm afraid dinner won't be ready until seven, the roads are a little slippery in this weather."
"I see..."
You have a short and very awkward staring contest, before Dave coughs to get the attention of both of you.
"Ah, Nadia Tenger, James Donavan," He introduced you.
"Nice to meet you?"
"Pleasure is mine," She said, her Scandinavian accent leaking through a bit. She blinked, "Are you feeling alright?"
"Don't mind James," Dave said, leaning in conspiratorially, "He's shy."
You chuckled nervously and rubbed the back of your neck, before eyeing the mug in Dave's hand.
"Do you have hot chocolate?"
"Nadia," nodded, "On the tables back there, though I would recommend trying the eggnog."
Nodding in thanks, you carefully made you way across the room, saying hello when spoken to by your co-workers. You watch from the corner of your eye as one of the reindeer people flies into the air with the tinkling of bells, dragging an elaborate streamer behind them before fastening it to the ceiling. Your eye gives a few alarming twitches, but you power on to the table where the drinks are. More of the tall, ceramic mugs are arranged neatly on the table, whips of steam drifting gently off them. The contents are identified by small placards with elegant script on them, so finding the hot chocolate isn't hard. Gripping a mug, you get a feel for its weight, and holding it in a firm grip. It would make for a somewhat decent bludgeon if it came down to it, but the smell of the contents...
Taking a cautions sip, you find your mind taken bac to Christmases long ago, back to your childhood, where everything seemed brighter, the world more innocent and...your body does the twitch thing again. You came to the conclusion that something was off with the hot chocolate, and probably the rest of the drinks, but this stuff was good. Refreshment secured, you carefully slipped out of the conference room, to go and find a "cubicle to let it all out."
Finding an unoccupied cubicle near the staircase is easy, most everyone already went home, so you're free to pick. Drooping your stuff inside, you carefully, and slowly, clear the desk of knickknacks, and pull the chair back. You sit down in the chair, setting the heavy mug on the desk, grit your teeth together, and scream.
"HNNNNGGG!"
If mental volume could be detected, it probably would blow out the hearing of anyone within earshot, shattered glass, and destroy audio equipment. What the flying fuckshroom was going on here? Sure you'd passed out in the bathroom, but there were limits as to what a concussion could cause you to see. Perhaps the janitors used a chemical compound that induced brain damage? No, the Company, for all its faults, did follow OSHA guidelines, and made sure all employees were taught its rather...strict rules in regards to what was acceptable.
Was this all some sort of messed up dream then? You pinch the skin of your cheek hard, and when that fails to wake you, you make motions as though to fling the discount cubicle walls away. Well, it would seem that you're not dreaming given how lucid you are and reality is not bending to your will. Perhaps you suffered an aneurysm while in the bathroom and died...this place is almost Hell anyhow, but it didn't explain the Christmas party. And you were fairly certain this wasn't Heaven, too many aches in your body for an eternity of bliss. Comatose on the bathroom floor, going insane, or perhaps this was all really happening? You weren't sure which of those possibilities was worse, but, there was nothing you could really do about it.
So, instead of having a mental breakdown, you just decide to enjoy the hot chocolate, and continue reading the (mis)adventures of Caphias Cain. The poor man actually has common sense to avoid danger, but in the 41st millennium, danger comes looking for you. He was currently inside a transport being attacked by a Tyranid Biovore, much to his displeasure. Worse, the civilians were panicking, and pushing him towards the things jaws. So, realizing he's dammed either way, he waits for a pause in the attacks, before hopping out an onto the ice to fight the creature. You're reading along as he dispatches it, and chuckling at his attempts to survive are misclassified by heroics by onlookers, when someone coughs next to you.
You let out a manly shriek and nearly fall out of the chair, before composing yourself slightly. This is not helped by the somewhat musical giggling of the Reindeer girl next to you, who can be summed up in the word petite. She did seem to radiate a strange energy, as though subtitle waves of heat are gently washing across your skin..
"Um, can I help you?"
"You James, right," Upon seeing you nod, she smiles, and extends her hand, "Millie Blomstedt."
"Nice to meet you," You reply somewhat hesitantly, "What brings you here?"
"Dinners arrived, So I went to find you and bring you back to the party."
Creepy, "I'm not exactly the party type."
"Oh, don't be such a grumpus," She chided, before leaning in close, "You might end up being sacked by a Krampus."
Krampus?
Sacked?!
You knew a Krampus was some goat-demon thing that punished children, and you had no idea what being sacked meant. It was probably for the best you didn't find out either, and that was without considering the small Reindeer girl before you. Despite only being shoulder high on you discounting her horns, she had this otherworldly feeling to her. There was some primitive notion in you mind that suggested she'd have no trouble flinging you through a cubicle or two. That, and on checking your watch, it was a few minutes after seven, so dinner was probably served. So, you get up, and follow the small lady as she merrily makes her way to the staircase, moving and humming to a tune you've never heard.
As you follow you try hard not to stare at her perky backside, which seems to be her entire goal, if her giggling is anything to go by. Hell, whatever dance she's doing seems to rely n it moving a lot. You reach the stairwell without incident, and proceed down a flight of stairs, before you suddenly rear end her. A stammered apology swiftly turns to confusion, as you find your back against a wall. How had she managed to pin you to the wall without you noticing?
"You know," She says slowly, grinding her backside against you, "I'm sure the others won't miss us for another few minutes."
She seemed serious about her offer, but you'd entered a blind panic about all of this happening so quickly. You were halfway tempted to say yes when you stomach to a moment to voice its opinion. The two of you froze, and then she started laughing, nearly falling over from her mirth. You were nothing short of mortified, but you give a few chuckles as well. Shortly after, the two of you resume heading to the main conference room, where a veritable feast is on display, split among the tables. Millie decides to drop you off next to a Reindeer named Oskar, who was quite a bit bigger than you, before heading off to do something else.
Dinner isn't so bad, it kind of reminds you of those ones you had when your family all got together for Christmas when you were younger. Lot of familiar, and a few unfamiliar dishes are passed around, and conversation pervaded the tables. In particular, Oskar seems to have a passion for science fiction, so you waste no time in introducing him to 40k. Granted, you give him the heavily abridged version, as to convey the shear amount of lore would take a few days. You do find it odd that the Reindeer people can eat meat though, but pass it off as something you can worry about later. At a different table, Millie seems to have challenged a giant of a reindeer to a drinking contest, and so far is holding her own.
"So this Cain guy tries to avoid being in dangerous situations...and he ends up in them anyways."
"Yep," You reply, "Not entirely his fault, more like life throws a few more rocks in his direction."
"Sound's neat, "I'll have to get the first book in the series."
THUD"
There was a great cheer around Millie's table ad her opponent lay on the floor, completely trashed, and Millie isn't far behind. How she managed it with being so small will forever remain a mystery to you. That, and as you look around, everyone is starting to get a little handsy with each other. It was probably best to call it a night before you got swept up in the orgy festivity. As you start to head out, Oskar follows, mostly because he want's a few good reading recommendations. You've reached the door to the room when something small collides with you and pins you up against the wall, before viscously assaulting you mouth with its...her own. Millie was currently making out with you like a horny teenager, much to the excitement of her peers. After what felt like an age, she broke the kiss so we could both catch out breaths. The shape of her mouth made for an odd, if somewhat pleasant match.
"Hi."
"Hey James," She giggles, before applying another deep kiss.
"Millie, you should probably get some rest, you hit the drinks pretty hard."
"Noooo," She slurs, nuzzling into your chest, "Have to protect him from the unicorns."
You contemplated on asking why you would be threatened by unicorns, but reasoned you were probably better off not knowing. Right now, you have the more immediate problem of a petite humanoid Reindeer drunkenly molesting you. If it wasn't for the fact she'd pressed you into the wall, you'd probably be pinned under her, despite being larger than her. This is not helped by the caveman parts of your brain and the male parts of your anatomy, which are all too eager for such a thing. The more intellectual part of your mind is on the metaphorical fence, held only by anxiety, as it projects all sorts of horrible possibilities.
Mumbling more to herself than either of you, Millie slides down your body and begins to huff away at your groin, moaning and licking the bulge there. What's worse is you can feel her drunkenness radiating from her, and practically see the little bubbles popping over her head. This is coupled with a sense of needy arousal, and the fact that her nose is glowing red, set off a few alarm bells. Oskar comes over and swiftly picks Millie up, slinging her across his shoulder before taking a step or two back.
"Seems she's had a bit much to drink, shame," Oskar said, "She said you were cute, probably not how she wanted the night to end, but she did challenge Gertorn."
"Pass along my sympathies, and tell her I hope she's back on her hooves in no time."
...Whoops...
"Sure thing,...wait."
He's staring at you as though trying to puzzle something out, which makes you increasingly nervous. Finally, he raises his free hand and snaps his fingers at you. A spark of some sort flies forth, coming to a sudden stop an inch or two from you nose, and bursts. Instinctively you jerk back, before an odd heaviness crept into your limbs and lethargy into your mind. For a moment, you felt as though you were going to fall asleep standing up.
TWITCH
You body spammed as though rocked by an extremely violent sneeze, the kind that hurt your chest. once you recover, you spot Oskar giving you the deer-in-headlights expression, a finger pointing at you.
"You can...see us?"
"Well...yeah, I've kind of been talking to you all evening," You say, not lying but definitely withholding information.
"No," He says carefully, "The fur, then antlers, the ears?"
"Oh, so I'm not going crazy," You mutter, "I suppose that's good to know?"
"You shouldn't be able to do that," He says, disbelief etched into his face, "You should be asleep after that...how are you still awake?"
"I don't know," You say, voice taking on a paranoid tone, "All I know is I'm not crazy, you guys are reindeer people, nd somehow you can eat meat."
Oskar shuffles, "Comes with living in the far north, magic helps too."
"Right, Oskar, I'ma level with you," You say, raising your hands, "I don't know how or why I'm able to do these things. Personally, I'm just going to go to sleep, and when I wake up this will all be a dream."
"But aren't you curious-"
"A dream," You repeat.
He raises an eyebrow, "You sure you can just go back to normal after all this?"
" can try," You shrug, "Merry Christmas dude."
And with that, you go down the hallway to the stairwell, to go and get some sleep.