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I sometimes like to write a Christmas story. Here's this year's effort in several parts.


**Olympe and The Night Before Christmas**

*Chapter 1*


It was Christmas Eve in The Server. Mistress Kou had set the weather to frosty and a slow snow was falling, not so thick, but a steady vertical procession of small flakes and you could see it would go on all night *relentlessly*.

The member who called her new self Olympe Viola Reese, observed the quiet storm from the windows of her cosy 1LDK in Blue Home channel. The sky was a pale blur, stained into distant rainbow glow by the neon and floodlights of the largest buildings in the city, the Great Casino and the Scarlet Cathedral.

“You might have overdone it this year, Kou,” the tall blonde said aloud, though she was alone. She gave a deep sigh, turned away from the view and picked up a frosty glass of her pseudo Espresso Martini, cunningly ginned up from instant coffee, Kahlua and Tanqueray London Dry Export Strength.

“Something to fucc me up, and wake me up,” she muttered. She sipped and thought over her life situation.

The year almost over was fraught with difficulties. Apart from work, she had changed from a boi into a girl, which was a pretty major challenge, especially as it was unexpected. She had somehow risen to it with the help of her friends. Nothing would be better than to gather them close now and exchange the warmth and love of comradeship.

But everyone had other commitments. The Princess was summoned to distant Cowley Court, where Lord Yuzu hadn’t invited Olympe because he didn’t trust the new her. The rest of the kuudere detectives all were visiting family IRL. Doctor Mayoi was busy at the hospital, tending to the sick young’uns, and waiting for the traditional visit from Santa Claus.

*It isn’t all about me,* she thought, but she was still lonely.

Olympe determined to shake off her blues. She fetched her new party costume, a high quality Sexy Elf number from the Isetan department store. It combined a tight red bodice, a ridiculously frou-frou, puffy green miniskirt with crinolines, and red and white hoop-striped hold-up stockings, which made her legs look like candy canes. The outfit was completed by a hat with traditional white fur rim and baggy red crown with a bell on the end.

She made up and dressed with care, spritzed with Creed Sublime Vanille, and went out to catch a taxicab to the NSFW channel. The discreet bar known as Nanashi beckoned, a place where cool members go to see and be seen, and maybe hook up with one another. The proprietor is very particular about who he lets in.

*I’ll find someone to love me,* she thought.

Nanashi was nowhere to be found, though. Olympe could not discover the exact series of turns to reach the discreet door however hard she tried.

*Oh bollocks! I’m not cool enough. What shall I do?* She felt lonely and discouraged. It looked like a bad end to the year.

*To be continued…*

.
**Olympe and The Night Before Christmas**

*Chapter 2*


There’s a place called The Deep, a rather murky channel filled with low-rent office units, low-rise apartment buildings and local businesses of various types, none of them glitzy like the nightclubs and restaurants of Dream Disco, or the Great Casino. It’s a good place to go if you’ve got troubles.

Olympe knew The Deep well. Ms Moon Potato and she had established their detective agency there several years ago, when Olympe was still pretty much of a n00b. So she went and got herself a red pleather booth in the Midnight Diner, which is open 24/7/365, and asked for coffee and donuts.

The maudlin girl was about to bite into her first fried pastry when another girl Elf came in, a real one, it looked like. She had short black hair, Hobbit ears and a more practical version of Olympe’s costume, something a girl could be athletic in without flashing too much skin. Her face tickled Olympe’s memory… It was Pihla, who Olympe had met and helped on another Christmas Eve, back when she used to be a boi detective.

“Pihla!” she called, stood, and waved at the newcomer. “*Pihla!*”

“Hei. Tunnenko sinut?” Pihla replied, with a puzzled smile.

“Pihla, come and have a donut with me,” Olympe begged, and gestured to her booth.

The Elf paused to glance around the diner, then she slid into the offered seat. She looked closely at Olympe’s eyes, and sat back, brows arched in surprise.

“Kuka sinä olet? Tiedän silmäsi.”

Olympe couldn’t understand a word of whatever language it was that Pihla spoke. It didn’t sound like anything she knew; English, French, Japanese, a bit of German. She tried anyway, using gestures to help.

“I’m Yancey,” She touched her chest with her palm. “Yancey. At least I was Yancey when we met before, in the Cathedral on Christmas Eve. I was a boi then.” But Yancey hadn’t told the Elf his name. He just helped her to complete her delivery, and waved her goodbye when she flew away into the snowstorm.

“You told me your name -- Pihla, Pihla, Pihla -- and it never occurred to me to tell you mine. I was such an arrogant prick.” Olympe cast her eyes down, they were itching to cry at her stupidity. She looked up and blinked away the tears, slid the serving plate across the table.

“Here, have a donut, they’re really good!” She tried to smile.

“Odota. Minulla on jotain hyödyllistä,” Pihla said, and smiled back. Her eyes were a bright green-grey. She took out a small rectangular box made of pale wood. Its carved design was beautiful, polished to a sheen by years and many fingers. It looked ancient, and *magical*. The Elf performed a deft series of complex manipulations. The lid eased open, revealing some homemade black pills. She picked out two and set them on the plate. They reminded Olympe of the magic pearls the Sea-witch Ursula had traded to Yancey for rum.

“Jos otamme molemmat yhden, voimme ymmärtää toisiamme,” Pihla told Olympe. “Luota minuun?” She smiled again, and swallowed one of the pills with a cheeky sip from Olympe’s coffee cup.

What could the human do but follow suit? Some kind of bond existed between the two members. Olympe was in need, Pihla was grateful for past help, perhaps, and naturally kind, as befits one of Santa’s Elves. The girl downed her pill and waited for the magic to happen.

*To be continued…*

Pihla speaks Finnish. I had to translate it with Google

*Chapter 3*


A shrill thrill spilled over Olympe’s nerves, a distant tinkling of silver bells she felt rather than heard. She shivered.

Outside, the snowfall was thickening.

“Rowan,” said Olympe, the meaning of the Finnish word Pihla suddenly clear to her new consciousness. “Rowan.” A tree with magical, protective qualities. “Rowan,” her eyes watered uncontrollably. “I’m so glad to see you!” She reached out to grasp the Elf’s hand. She smiled and cried at the same time.

“I still don’t know *who you are*!” Pihla took the offered hand.

“I’m Yancey. I *was* Yancey, I mean, I… I’ve changed since we met.”

“Just a bit, eh! But your eyes are the same when I look close. How shall I name you?”

“Olympe. It’s who I am now, at least I’m trying to be. I’m still new at being a girl.”

“Olympe. How did Yancey come to change into you? They was a big, strong boi.”

“I don’t know. I just woke up like this one morning. It was a bit of a shock.”

“Ho! I expect! But I can see you’ve coped. You look good, your hair and make-up, I mean. The outfit’s a bit, well, a bit of a come on. I should call it cultural appropriation. You’ve pillaged my people’s national dress for a silly costume.”

She made a playful moue.

“I’m sorry, Rowan. Maybe it’s human nature, always pilfering from elsewhere, but we don’t really mean ill by it. I should have worn something different if I knew I would meet you, but I wanted to go to a party. I thought it would be a cute outfit.”

“*It is* kind of cute. Listen, I want to go to a party! Can we go together?”

“Yes! Great idea!” The image of two hot Christmas Elves on a hedonistic mission came into Olympe’s mind. “I’m sure there must be some all-nighters in Dream Disco.” She pulled out her smartphone to search.

Pihla looked out of the window. The snow was settling. Soon there would be no safe road except for cars which had winter tyres.

“No, it’s too cold, Olympe. I want to go somewhere warm!”

“Somewhere warm? Yes! I know the very place. It’s quite a drive but I’ve got a fast car. Let’s go! We’ll get a can of hot coffee and a bag of donuts for the journey.”

The Elves grabbed their supplies and nipped round to the garage where Olympe kept her new car, a gleaming, burgundy red Alfa-Romeo Giulia Quadrifoglio Elettrica. She took the vehicle out carefully. Its power was excessive for the narrow channels of The Deep, but when they got onto the main highway, Olympe put her foot down emphatically. The torque of the double motors was so great that rather than moving the car, the wheels rotated The Server below it. 2 seconds later the Alfa was at 100 kmph and still accelerating fast. When the speedo read 160, Olympe pressed the button for Sports mode, and the car really began to move.

The sensation of speed was enhanced by the whipping snow, the flashing white lines of the highway, and the cat’s eyes picked out ahead, nailed to the tarmac by bright LED headlights in curving arcs like lines of tracer bullets which chased Pihla and Olympe and never caught them. The girls whooped with joy at their velocity. Olympe switched on the radio, a rock station, pounding heavy metal until she reached a steady cruise, then she changed the channel to listen to Christmas carols.

So many old favourites played as the road unwound beneath them, merry, joyful, funny, some with that special blend of melancholy and loss which the season can bring, the sense of the year dying, but always hope promised for the new one, when you turn the dark corner.

Pihla and Olympe sang along to their favourites, or hummed. Gradually their mood quietened. Pihla curled up in her seat and slept. Olympe smiled at the Elf’s cute snores, turned the volume down and concentrated on the road.

The storm abated as the fugitives gained southing. The sky cleared of snow and filled with the bright fixed points of the stars, but still the white lines stretched out ahead like an endless flight path, guiding them towards a warm welcome.

The geography changed. All snow vanished and the air grew balmy. The road began to follow the shoreline, surf sparkling in the moonlight. The four lane blacktop leapt from the mainland over a spindly white bridge to an island.

In the early hours of Christmas morning, Olympe parked her car in the wide drive-in of a sprawling hillside dwelling, within a lush garden filled with sub-tropical plants. She nudged Pihla’s shoulder gently.

There was someone small and *winged* waiting, smiling, waving at the Elves as they clambered stiffly from the car. The perfume of many flowers filled their nostrils.

*To be continued…*

Olympe and The Night Before Christmas

Chapter 4



The Garden Fairy Yura hurried to greet them. Her minidress was the deep green of holly, run through with gold threads, her eyes sparkled as brightly as her wide smile, and her wings left a faint trail of pixie dust in the warm air.

“Pia! So good to see you, uwu!” Yura clasped Olympe’s hands. “Who is your fren?”

“This is Rowan. We met at Christmas a couple of years ago -- um -- I helped them with a delivery. But how did you know we were coming?”

“Rowan!” Yura greeted the other Elf warmly, “So pleased to meet you.” She air-kissed the bleary girl. “I predicted your arrival with my Tarot deck, uwu. Please, come in, there’s lots to do to get ready for the party.”

Yura led the Elves into the huge kitchen of her rambling bungalow, where an enormous feast was laid out on the main table, packed into Tupperware boxes, coolers, flasks, bottle carriers, hampers, and tote bags, sufficient to delight a whole crew of hungry Hobbits. Pihla clapped her hands and cooed with joy.

“Wow! You’ve been busy, Yura,” Olympe exclaimed. “What’s there left to do?”

“We have to put everything in the car and drive to the beach and set it up. But first, you and Rowan need to get swimsuits. Everyone is going swimming at dawn.”

“Where can we get swimming costumes at this time of Christmas Eve?” Olympe fretted. Not even the Isetan department store was open at such an hour.

“Use my magic portal, visit your own home and pick them from your wardrobe, silly! I have already got it set up, uwu.” Yura said confidently.

“What?! You mean I drove all that way for nothing?” Olympe was mildly outraged. “You could have brought us through in an instant.”

“Was it not a magical journey for you though, Pia, the way you came?”

“Well, yes, it was a lot of fun,” the tall blonde conceded. “It was like flying on Santa’s sleigh, without any fear of heights. Lead me to your portal, then…”

Yura brought the Elves to another room, a kind of magical workshop by the look of the apparatus on a workbench, and arcane diagrams on an old-fashioned interactive touchscreen. There was a shimmering, glowing rectangle framed within some kind of machinery. It was the light that some horror films warn you not to go into, but when the Elves looked close, the other side was a small room neatly crowded with clothes and accessories hanging in wardrobes, ranked on shelves, and gathered in boxes. In general it looked more like a fashionista paradise than some sketchy hellscape. Smoothing down her skirts, Olympe made ready to climb through. Her companion touched her arm.

“Why does the Garden Fairy call you Pia?” Pihla whispered.

“It’s kind of a nickname. Olympe is a version of Olympia, so Pia is short for it. Also, PIA stands for Private Inquiry Agent, which is my job. I only let my close frens call me Pia, though. You’re one, of course, Rowan.”

It took Pia a couple of minutes to make a selection of clothes and accessories. She climbed back with seven swimsuits, some pareos, sunhats, water shoes and flip-flops.

“Here, Rowan, choose something you like. I know it’s kind of intimate apparel but everything is properly laundered -- I took good care of my clothes -- so please don’t worry about hygiene.”

Reassured, the Elf selected a sleek, one-piece costume in navy blue with wavy red and white stripes down the flanks. Pia chose a set of boishorts and athletic top, also dark blue with a double white stripe down the left side only.

They changed quickly without embarrassment, Pihla conditioned by sauna life, and Olympe used to the habitual nudity of the Japanese onsen.

The three girls loaded the Garden Fairy’s homely Jeep with all the food, drink, beach towels and so on. They drove to West Bay, where other revellers were gathered on the splendid beach to celebrate the dawn of Christmas Day.

Once everything was set up Olympe felt rather tired. She had driven through the night, fuelled by a heady combination of sugar and caffeine. She had powered onward thanks to the joy of meeting the Garden Fairy, and the excitement of an inter-dimensional portal expedition for beach wear. Then the busyness of setting up the seaside party. Now her energy levels were crashing. She paddled thigh deep in the warm sea as the eastern sky grew brighter.

Twilight is the time when the walls between the worlds are thinnest. Sometimes you really can hear distorted music from across the border. Or voices. The scene took her back to the time she had visited West Bay to bargain with a Sea-witch for magic pearls.

*Somewhere out there is Ursula The Gay,* Olympe remembered, *And the mermaids.*

The short hairs on her neck prickled.

Just then warm arms were thrown around Olympe’s neck. Pihla giggled in her ear and kissed her cheek.

“It’s so much fun, Pia! So warm, such good food and drink and everyone is so nice, even if we can’t talk properly! Come on, let’s dance or swim!”

Pihla let go of her and began to splash her with the sparkling sea, then turned to run slowly and sloshingly back to the beach. The Elf shrieked in mock fear as Olympe chased her through the gentle waves, faster as they got out of the water, until they were both pounding the sand at full pace. Olympe was close to catching Pihla when the Elf did an astonishing aerial flip, a kind of Immelman loop using her flight powers, and landed behind the fast-moving detective. Olympe tried to turn, skidded and fell on her back, and Pihla fell on top of her.

Suddenly their bodies were almost one, their panting breath close to each other’s faces. Pihla smelt of red wine and fresh basil pesto. Olympe felt a surge of desire. She wrapped the Elf in her arms and brought her mouth into kissing distance. But Pihla pushed her away before their lips could connect.

“I’m not like that, Pia,” she frowned. “I prefer bois.” Pihla flipped herself off Olympe and reclined just out of reach.

“I’m sorry, Rowan, I’m so very stupid. I shouldn’t have done that.” Olympe curled up on her side, facing away from the Elf. “I wish I was still Yancy,” she murmured.

Pihla sat up cross-legged to watch Olympe in the red glow of the Christmas dawn. Her long shadow fell across the blonde’s body, damp with seawater and crusted with shining grains of sand.

“If you were Yancy I would let you kiss me, Pia, but you’re not. You must be who you are now. I can’t love you as a girl with a girl, but I can love you as a friend, so, uh….” She paused, hung her head for a long second, then…

“Come on,” Pihla said encouragingly. She stood up, smiled, and held her arm out to help Olympe up. “I may never spend Christmas morning on a tropical beach ever again and I want to make the most of it. I’m only here because you brought me. Let’s go and dance.”

Someone had brought a trendy, expensive, old-fashioned iPod loaded with classic disco and techno hits and plugged it into an electric guitar amp running off their EV battery. The playlist was eclectic, the Pointer Sisters followed by the Chemical Brothers, Donna Summer, Fatboy Slim and David Guetta. The Elves joined in the group dance, throwing outrageous shapes for number after number.

Olympe felt better for the exercise; happy hormones flooded her brain and washed away her melancholy. When a slow number came on she bowed to Pihla, took up the boi’s position to clasp her in ballroom hold, and squired her round the beach in a very simple four step routine. Somehow they managed not to fall over each other. When the song ended she released the flushed Elf and bowed.

“There’s a bit of Yancy in me yet,” she said, “But you're right, I’ve got to be the best Olympe I can. Thank you for a lovely dance. Now let’s have a drink.”

It took only one large Tequila Sunrise to knock Olympe out. She had been on the go for too long.

When she awoke it was full day. She was lying on a beach towel draped over cool sand, shielded from the tropic sun by an awning. The Garden Fairy was sitting by her, smiling gently.

“Your friend was so nice, Pia. She had to fly, uwu, and she left a note because she could not say goodbye properly.”

“Oh!”

The neat, rounded handwriting was entirely unintelligible. The words were clearly formed in Latin alphabet with many vowels and some accents she recognised from Japanese and German!? It had little relation to the languages Pia knew. Pihla’s magic pills had worn off. Pia would need to find a translator to understand Pihla’s message.



THE END

It too me a year to finish the last part of this story. I hope you like it.