December 25th, 1978
Who: John Mulicber and Matilda Rowle
What: Christmas gifts



"Cuff links." John pinched one of the bits of silver laid in the little green satin box and brought up to his face for further inspection. His squinted brow rose in recognition as he twisted the link between his fingers. "Serpent cuff links," he amended before replacing the piece in its box.

"Good to know you do have taste," John added lightly as he sat the opened present to the coffee table. He cast a sidelong glance to his fiancee and tentatively pulled a long, thin package covered in a dull grey paper from beneath the sette on which they were sitting. John's hesitation was not due to worry that she might not like his gift, but for the legitimate concern that she might claw his eyes out for it. Matilda was, after all, a highly unpredictable and angry young woman.

Without another word, John handed the present over and watched her with his hand resting carefully on his wand.

She was a lot more worried about John liking his gift than she had been letting on. Matilda was watching him silently open and examine the cuff links with unreadable curiosity and forced herself not to smirk in triumph as he somewhat complimented the gift. It had taken quite a bit, and she wanted to add that they were from one of the finest clothing shops in Italy, that she'd shrieked to Alecto that John would look wonderful in them, with those dark green robes he has---but bringing up the trip probably wouldn't help John's mood, so she just nodded softly and took her present. A dull grey wrapped box, well. Her expectations were soaring at the moment, Matilda could assure you. She pulled the wrapping off at the end and slid the box out as to not make a mess, and took the cover off.

A mirror. It was a pretty mirror, yes, and Matilda picked it up to admire the engraving. She supposed that her disappointment actually meant that she had been expecting something nice from John, and the mirror was nice, she wasn't going to look like a brat about it, but still--

"It's lovely," she said with a smile, putting it down on her lap and looking over at John.

He had been expecting the placating response. After all, how was she to know that the modest gift was actually a magical device? Two-way mirrors did not reveal themselves merely by touch. The name of the possessor of the mirror's mate had to be spoken or it would simply remain a mirror.

John nasally sighed as he reached across the settee to take the mirror from her lap. After a glance at Matilda and a hesitant swallow--still concerned that this gift would entirely backfire and he'd be mauled--his eyes slid to look into the reflective glass. He cleared his throat before saying firmly to the mirror, "Matthias Rowle".

She flinched at her brother's name, wondering where the random words had come from, what had made John say it, and was more than confused when she was handed back the mirror. Matilda continued to stare at John in obvious confusion, but out of the corner of her eye she saw some movement and looked down at the mirror in her hands. At first the image was foggy, far too dark to see from th distance she was holding it, and Matilda lifted it closer to her face to see that the reflection wasn't of her, but of a very familiar face and Matilda took in a deep breath.

Her brother's souless eyes were staring back at her, even though after a minute or so passed Matilda couldn't see him anymore because her eyes were full of tears. She bit her tongue and sucked in her cheeks to try and keep her tears from falling and pulled the mirror to her chest; fucking hell she couldn't remember feeling this many emotions at once. Surprise, amazement, wonder, love---it was truly unbelievable, and Matilda sniffled greatly, peeking down at the glass of the mirror once more before holding it to her chest again.

"John," she started, but it caused a few tears to fall and Matilda let out a light gasp to try and contain her emotions.

His brow furrowed more and more as the scene unfolded. It was not the reaction John had expected but at least he wasn't being maimed. Considering her tantrum after his meeting of Matthias, he had anticipated that this gift would go over just as badly. John always did his best to expect the worst out of others.

However, for all his relief over the lack of violence, he was taken aback by the tears. This was not the first time he'd seen her cry, nor the second. He eyed her hesitantly, He'd seen more tears out of Matilda than any other woman, or so he could recall. It made him wonder if she knew how thoroughly unattractive it was.

"I can return it to the shop if you'd prefer," he offered quietly.

A little part of her wanted to chuck the mirror at his forehead for being so stupid. Wasn't she obviously in tears of joy? Or no, was she doing this wrong? Matilda was quite certain that her tearful expression could be taken as one of deep---oh, whatever, it was John, there was really no explaining the way he thought or trying to explain yourself to him. So Matilda did the only thing she thought could really get through to him, for John to really understand how she felt about the mirror; she put it down to the side, came around the table to where he was sitting, pushed John's shoulders back and straddled his waist before kissing him deeply, her arms going around his neck and pulling him as close as possible.

Merlin's bloody beard, this had to be the first time she'd kissed him since their fight in the journals, and though she'd never admit it, Matilda had missed his taste. Ooh, she hated him for making her so mad and for being so stubborn, but at the moment all those thoughts were erased because he'd done something right.