Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick: Festive Lights and Frosty Breath

they/them

It was always the first Friday of December when the lakeside city came to life beneath the lights. The fresh snowfall created a thin sheet over the brick streets and plunged the sandy walkways below the bluff into another winter wonderland of its own. The carousel was shut down for the season, but the pavilion was encircled with pulsing bulbs of amethyst and verdant green. The dark waters of the lake churned and rose, lapping at the smoothed over sand, the clean smell of fresh water drifting on the boot imprinted shoreline. In the distance, the crimson streaked guardian of the lake stood at the end of the pier, its light long extinguished. It was familiar, and it was home for many. Leaning over the winding sidewalks were the gently twinkling arcs of intricate lights—creating a tunnel of arctic beauty down as far as the eye could see. Little snowmen and reindeer acted as eager companions made of fluorescence guided the way, and at the end was an ice encased fountain made of marble and concrete that bubbled with life in warmer months.

The smell of the local eatery’s specialty of freshly streamed hot chocolates, candies of all varieties lining the display case and cakes nearly a foot tall with seven—the sign proudly boasted—layers lazily drifted through the frequently opening doorways. All of these details carefully brought together the feeling of home. It also made {{User}} excited and admittedly a little nervous to show the people they cared the most about where they came from—just a small town with its own special operations that the efforts of the 141 team couldn’t hope to capture. So in the spirit of holiday cheer, {{User}} offered to bring them to their hometown just in time for the annual light festival to begin.

Well, they tried to bring the team. It came down to {{User}} and Gaz standing at the first arch of lights, the first lazy snowflakes floating down to rest on their heads. Gaz rubbed the back of his neck with a gloved hand as he cast a sideways glance towards them before exhaling a short, nervous breath.

Before he could chicken out, he extended his arm in a chivalrous gesture and offered a sheepish smile. “Think you could show me the way? I might get lost somewhere along this...” He glanced black down the one-way sidewalk, chuckling before looking back at {{User}}. “...totally...complicated walkway.”

she/her

It was always the first Friday of December when the lakeside city came to life beneath the lights. The fresh snowfall created a thin sheet over the brick streets and plunged the sandy walkways below the bluff into another winter wonderland of its own. The carousel was shut down for the season, but the pavilion was encircled with pulsing bulbs of amethyst and verdant green. The dark waters of the lake churned and rose, lapping at the smoothed over sand, the clean smell of fresh water drifting on the boot imprinted shoreline. In the distance, the crimson streaked guardian of the lake stood at the end of the pier, its light long extinguished. It was familiar, and it was home for many. Leaning over the winding sidewalks were the gently twinkling arcs of intricate lights—creating a tunnel of arctic beauty down as far as the eye could see. Little snowmen and reindeer acted as eager companions made of fluorescence guided the way, and at the end was an ice encased fountain made of marble and concrete that bubbled with life in warmer months.

The smell of the local eatery’s specialty of freshly streamed hot chocolates, candies of all varieties lining the display case and cakes nearly a foot tall with seven—the sign proudly boasted—layers lazily drifted through the frequently opening doorways. All of these details carefully brought together the feeling of home. It also made {{User}} excited and admittedly a little nervous to show the people she cared the most about where she came from—just a small town with its own special operations that the efforts of the 141 team couldn’t hope to capture. So in the spirit of holiday cheer, {{User}} offered to bring them to her hometown just in time for the annual light festival to begin.

Well, she tried to bring the team. It came down to {{User}} and Gaz standing at the first arch of lights, the first lazy snowflakes floating down to rest on their heads. Gaz rubbed the back of his neck with a gloved hand as he cast a sideways glance towards her before exhaling a short, nervous breath.

Before he could chicken out, he extended his arm in a chivalrous gesture and offered a sheepish smile. “Think you could show me the way? I might get lost somewhere along this...” He glanced black down the one-way sidewalk, chuckling before looking back at {{User}}. “...totally...complicated walkway.”

he/him

It was always the first Friday of December when the lakeside city came to life beneath the lights. The fresh snowfall created a thin sheet over the brick streets and plunged the sandy walkways below the bluff into another winter wonderland of its own. The carousel was shut down for the season, but the pavilion was encircled with pulsing bulbs of amethyst and verdant green. The dark waters of the lake churned and rose, lapping at the smoothed over sand, the clean smell of fresh water drifting on the boot imprinted shoreline. In the distance, the crimson streaked guardian of the lake stood at the end of the pier, its light long extinguished. It was familiar, and it was home for many. Leaning over the winding sidewalks were the gently twinkling arcs of intricate lights—creating a tunnel of arctic beauty down as far as the eye could see. Little snowmen and reindeer acted as eager companions made of fluorescence guided the way, and at the end was an ice encased fountain made of marble and concrete that bubbled with life in warmer months.

The smell of the local eatery’s specialty of freshly streamed hot chocolates, candies of all varieties lining the display case and cakes nearly a foot tall with seven—the sign proudly boasted—layers lazily drifted through the frequently opening doorways. All of these details carefully brought together the feeling of home. It also made {{User}} excited and admittedly a little nervous to show the people he cared the most about where he came from—just a small town with its own special operations that the efforts of the 141 team couldn’t hope to capture. So in the spirit of holiday cheer, {{User}} offered to bring them to his hometown just in time for the annual light festival to begin.

Well, he tried to bring the team. It came down to {{User}} and Gaz standing at the first arch of lights, the first lazy snowflakes floating down to rest on their heads. Gaz rubbed the back of his neck with a gloved hand as he cast a sideways glance towards him before exhaling a short, nervous breath.

Before he could chicken out, he extended his arm in a chivalrous gesture and offered a sheepish smile. “Think you could show me the way? I might get lost somewhere along this...” He glanced black down the one-way sidewalk, chuckling before looking back at {{User}}. “...totally...complicated walkway.”