There is a piece of paper stapled to another floating in the air, and you watch as it lazily falls into your hands. You read the sheet on top, a sheet of yellow paper with a note written in careful handwriting.

To Dancer, From Your Secret Santa

Your alias gave me an idea, so I drew for you Dancer the reindeer...as a dancer! (I had to trace most of the face, though.) I hope you like it. Merry Christmas!

From Your Secret Santa

P.S. Do you know who I am yet?

A large yellow envelope sits in the center of the table. You pick it up and open it, and you pull out an illustration done on a piece of cardstock. You turn it over to find a message:

3 days till' Christmas! Hope you enjoy счастливый holidays!!!

- Your Secret Santa

P.S. Could I have your identity for the next gift?

So... do I also make something for LoTR elf? 

OMK it's adorable I love it *faints* but really, IT'S SO CUTE! 

And one question. What do the people that are the matches do again? Do we just wait? 

And I will post on Monday *checks scedual**has no plans for rest of life**feels sad because has no life* ya I can find time to post on Monday. The admins have Christmas eve and Christmas day off (24, 25) so the post won't be submitted until Monday any who. Also, I'm busy over the weekend anyway, my Brother's finishing up his last run for Christmas Carol in Denver. (Man, if that didn't give me away, nothing will) oh! We should make it a game! Like, every sultan time period (a day, an hour...) everyone posts a clue on who they are. Like, hints. Something like....I like daisys (you could probably even include your CB name in the post as a clue) or, I do Kyndom. Or even the name of one of your past of current charities or AEs.. or even an AE talking. OLD, it sounds like a challenge instead of just giving your name away, right? Tell me if you like the idea and I can explain it in a little more depth. ;)

There's something sitting on your desk. It appears to be a tiny stage. It's a proscenium theater, made of wood. Its classic red curtains are drawn open. But why is the stage empty? It is a very nice empty stage though...

That's when you notice the blue button to the side. Intrigued,  you press it. A tiny spotlight comes onto the stage, and little figures dressed in merry Christmas attire shuffle onstage. They face you, and they begin to sing.

We wish you a merry Christmas

We wish you a merry Christmas

We wish you a merry Christmas

And a happy New Year!

Good tidings we bring 

To you and your kin

We wish you a merry Christmas

And a happy New Year!

They keep repeating those verses. But it's not artificial sounding --the singing sounds so real! You look closer, and you see that they are real. You can see their chests rise and fall with each intake of breath. They transition into a new song, taking on a full, Broadway-y showtune belt.

Haul out the holly

Put up the tree before my spirit falls again

Fill up the stocking

I may be rushing things, but deck the halls again now

For we need a little Christmas

Right this very minute

Candles in the window

Carols at the spinet

Yes, we need a little Christmas

Right this very minute

It hasn't snowed a single flurry

But Santa, dear, we're in a hurry

So climb down the chimney

Turn on the brightest string of light I've ever seen

Slice up the fruitcake

It's time we hung some tinsel on that evergreen bough

For I've grown a little leaner

Grown a little colder

Grown a little sadder

Grown a little older

And I need a little angel

Sitting on my shoulder

I need a little Christmas now!

They continue singing Christmas carols. You see a tiny ticket booth next to the stage, with a note.

Hiya, Claaws. Enjoy the music! -Your Secret Santa

Forgive me for not posting sooner, Ivy. Here is your first present. Your second and third should be along tomorrow. And here is your character sheet picturing, based off of your name.

Name: Ivy

Age: Ah, but age does not belong to the immortals. Do you not agree? 

Gender: Female 

Appearance: You have long black hair which you can sit on. Your teardrop shaped eyes are like that of a deer's, a soft, dark brown. Your features; particularly those of your face a delicately made.

Although you don't smile often, your face often appears to be ready to break out in a grin. Your fingers are long and slim, perfect for most finger work. You are very small, and lightly built. At three inches, you are far smaller than most fairies.

You wear a short dress which comes up to your knees made out of ivy leaves. The leaves are wrapped around your slender figure, and then fastened about with segments of the ivy's vine. You go about with your bare brown feet, not made dirty by walking. No, this brown is what you were made with.

A light leather sort of color. However, your skin is far from being that tough. Instead, it is soft, like the fur of a squirrel. 

Your wings are very much like you. That it is, small and light. The top wings are like raindrops falling on to your back.

The raindrops roll off, creating both a sort of circle shape, and a diamond-like one, linked by thing strand. The pale grass-colored wings flutter, making a 'whisp-whisp' sort of sound as you cross your legs and sit down on the ground, ready to start yet another project.

Personality: You listen to all complaints, and give advice willingly. You are quiet, with a steady and nimble mind, and you do not bear grudges. However, if provoked, you will fight back with words, and harsh ones at that. You give so much for no other reason then pure kindness. You do not have many friends, making many of your gifts go to waste.

Occupation: You do a lot of sewing, though you really can do all sorts of odd jobs.

Yet another envelope sits in the same spot as the last. You pick it up and open it, sliding out a single piece of notebook paper titled Picturing: 

Kestrel~

The falcon soars through the sky, wild and free. The wind rips through the canyon, but the girl watching doesn’t seem to notice. She stands alone, her right hand resting on her stallion’s saddle. The girl turns to face the wind, squinting her eyes in the bright sunlight. Her skirts rustle against her legs, and wisps of her elaborate hairstyle flutter in the wind. She raises her left hand and lets out a piercing whistle. The falcon twists in midair and dives, straight down at the girl, who stands unflinching at bottom of the canyon. It pulls up the last second, and flies lazy circles around the girl’s horse before landing smoothly on her glove. She strokes the nape of its neck and murmurs, “Very good. Tomorrow, we’ll take back our title in the falconry championships.” The girl opens her hand and the bird soars again. She mounts her horse and rides swiftly into the distance, the falcon swooping behind her. 

P.S. Any idea as to who I am?