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“So… why are we putting a tree up?” Falco asked, eyeing said tree currently taking up the corner of the living room.
“It represents the tree in the town square,” Lucy answered with endless patience.
“Right. That a bunch of townsfolk in ye olden days supposedly wrapped every strand of lights they had around,” Falco nodded. He still didn’t sound convinced.
“Exactly.” Lucy wasn’t giving in to his cynicism. “As a beacon for the lost travelers.”
Peppy tried to tune them out as he dug through the box of decorations. Somewhere in here… ah, there it was.
Lucy was still explaining some aspect of the Festival of Lights story for the hundredth time when he turned back to the tree. Her words died; ruby eyes drawn to the item in his hands. Her ears drooped, “Papa do we have to put that one on the tree?”
He chuckled at her predictable reaction. “Of course, Pumpkin. Why n’t?”
The ornament in question was a tree shape cut out of foam and decorated with glitter glue, sequins, and whatever else Lucy’s first grade teacher had chosen to entrust the class with. It had been on the tree every year since she’d brought it home.
Despite her protests.
She sighed, giving up on the hopeless argument, and turned back to the garland she was still trying to get around the tree.
“And how do ornaments tie into the whole ‘lighting up the tree to be a beacon for lost travelers’ thing?” Falco asked as he pulled one from the box. He looped the ribbon around his finger, flicking the little wooden ship so it spun around.
“Geez Falco, why are you asking so many questions?” Slippy asked, voice slightly muffled as he dug through another box.
He shrugged. “We never bothered with any of this when I was a kid.”
“Why not?” Slippy asked, leaning back on his heels to look over at him.
He flicked the ornament again, watching it spin. “Ma hardly ever remembered any of this holiday bullshit.”
The admission wasn’t surprising. Peppy got the distinct impression that sometimes Falco’s mother had forgotten she’d even had a son. The kid didn’t like to talk about it though, so Peppy didn’t give the kids time to ask about it.
“Language,” he scolded. “An’ be careful with that one.”
Falco looked at the wooden ornament rapidly spinning to untwist the ribbon. “Why?”
Fox snatched it from him. Carefully cradling the little model of a wyvern in his palm. “Because Dad made this one.”
Falco snorted. “Of course, your dad was the kind of guy who made tree ornaments.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Fox challenged. He leaned up on his toes to put the ornament on one of the higher branches.
Falco shrugged again. He picked up another ornament. “You still haven’t answered my question about how ornaments tie in, by the way,” he said, with a glance at Lucy.
It was her turn to shrug. “I don’t know why,” she admitted. “I think it’s just to make the tree look pretty.”
“Pretty… right,” Falco snorted as he looked at the rather eclectic assortment of ornaments already decorating the tree. “Looks more like a hodge-podge to me.”
“If ya want an ‘aesthetic’ tree, decorate one at yer own place,” Peppy retorted without much heat. He’d been decorating Festival of Lights trees this way since he’d been a kit. Vivian had enjoyed it, as she’d had no intentions of carrying on her mother’s tradition of always having a strict aesthetic for the tree.
He hung another ornament on the tree. Equal parts amusement and longing shot through him as he looked at the submarine James had carefully carved. “As fer why we hang ornaments on th’ tree, yer partially right, Lucy.”
“I am?” She had moved on from the tree and was currently tucking a garland under the TV. She twisted to look at him.
“They were tryin’ t’ git every light they could on th’ tree in town square. They wanted it t’ be as bright as possible remember? So, they added little toys an’ other things that lit up,” Peppy explained. “Of course, over time as traditions changed an’ what not, ornaments that didn’t light up became more popular an’ now…” He waved a hand at the tree, and all the ornaments that didn’t light up nestled amongst the green branches and the glow of the lights.
“Pop still only uses ornaments that light up,” Slippy said. He thought about it for a moment. “Probably because the light strand only works sometimes.”
“I’m still surprised he puts up a tree,” Fox said. “Seems like too much effort for him.”
“I think he likes the lights,” Slippy answered with a shrug. He frowned in thought, “Your tree never had lights, right?”
Fox nodded. “Mom was always afraid the tree was going to catch fire or something. And after… well… we’d always had a tree without lights. Why change it?” His gaze drifted towards the floor. After a moment he seemed to forcibly shake off the sadness that had come to his eyes. “Besides, we always spent the Festival of Lights here anyway.”
“It’s always here,” Falco muttered, shaking his head. “I don’t get it. Why always here?” He glanced at Fox. “I mean, I know why now. But back then?”
“Big house, central location…” Lucy trailed off with a shrug. “Besides, Mama and Papa were used to big families. I think they would have gone a little stir crazy without having a full house.”
“I’m still right here,” Peppy pointed out, putting his hands on his hips.
“Am I wrong, Papa?” she asked innocently.
“N’t entirely,” he admitted. “Beltino an’ Vixy were always busy with work an’ whatnot. An’ Jim wasn’t exactly keen on havin’ a mostly empty house. It was just easier fer us all t’ gather here.”
He surveyed the room. For a moment he was several years in the past. Lucy, Fox, and Slippy all eagerly digging through the box of ornaments claiming which ones they wanted to put on the tree. Jim laughing from where he would have surely balanced perilously on the arm of the couch to reach the top of the tree. Vivian scolding him for being so reckless, then intervening when Fox and Slippy inevitably started arguing over who got to put up the wyvern ornament. Peppy helping the kids reach the higher branches by picking them up.
In the evening, Vixy would get back from work. Then Beltino. They’d gather around the table and eat dinner, chatting. The house would be full of warmth and love, as all homes should be.
Then Peppy blinked and he was back in the present. Slippy was setting up the little village Vivian had insisted on putting on the side table every year. Battling Falco who kept snatching little bits to ‘examine’ them. Lucy was on a stool, hanging the wreath made of bells – Vivian had been grinning like the cheshire cat when she’d brought that decoration home the first time – above the arch leading into the kitchen. Fox stood below her, helping her get the placement right.
Beltino would join them that evening. They would eat dinner together, if Falco didn’t try to sneak out first. The house would be filled with the same warmth and love as always, though tinged with the melancholy cold of knowing there was a gap. Missing the people who would never be sat at the table again.
He shook his head, banishing such thoughts. Best to focus on who was here, rather than who wasn’t.
Though he did allow his mind to drift a little. To the future rather than the past. To new faces that might join them. Who knew? Maybe in a few years there’d be young’uns again, fighting over ornaments and struggling to reach the higher branches again.
Peppy snorted in amusement as he shoved the thought away. He wasn’t quite ready to be a grandfather just yet.
“What’s so funny, Papa?” Lucy asked looking over at him as she climbed down from the step stool. She glanced back at the wreath critically. “It’s crooked isn’t it?”
“No. No it’s n’t crooked.” Peppy answered. “I was jus’ remberin’ how happy yer Mama was when she brought that wreath home. Her grin was bright enough t’ rival any star’s.” He laughed. “Until ya started runnin’ around with it shakin’ it like you’d never heard a bell ring before.”
Lucy had only been about four years old. She had cackled with glee as she ran around the living room holding the prize above her head. How she had enjoyed running around with a wreath of bells jingling so close to her ears, Peppy still didn’t know.
“I think I still have a picture o’ Viv chasin’ ya around somewhere,” Peppy said. “Should check the photo album…”
He grinned when three voices cried the predictable response of “No!” Vivian had loved taking pictures had she had gotten some good ones of all the kids’ early years. Most of which they found embarrassing now.
Someday they would see the pictures as the treasured heirlooms they were. Until that day, however, Peppy was going to enjoy teasing them.
“Showing embarrassing baby pictures?” Falco asked. “Now that’s a Festival of Lights tradition I can get behind!”
“Only because Peppy doesn’t have any of your baby pictures,” Slippy pointed out.
“Besides, it’s not a tradition,” Fox added.
“And we don’t need to make it one,” Lucy agreed.
Peppy laughed. “I may n’t have any baby pictures, but I’m sure I have a picture or two Falco would rather ya n’t see.”
Aquamarine eyes locked on to him. “You’re bluffing.”
“Am I?” Peppy met his gaze evenly.
“You have to be bluffing,” Falco said insistently.
“Kid d’ ya really think I don’t remember Pearl Bay?” Peppy asked.
His eyes went wide as he feathers puffed up. “But… pictures?” he asked.
“Zonessian cops wanted us wearin’ body cams. I got some screenshots.” Peppy grinned.
“Pearl Bay?” Fox asked. “Wasn’t that the base you always snuck into?”
Falco gave a slow nod.
“One time Star Fox was called in. Zonessian soldiers couldn’t figure out who kept gettin’ in. Turned out it was jus’ some teenagers who didn’t have anythin’ better t’ do,” Peppy answered.
They had caught one of the teenagers. It was a moment Falco had probably hoped he’d forgotten. Or that maybe he didn’t recognize just who he was when they’d met again on Corneria.
“That’s enough of this story,” Falco said, stalking away from where Slippy had stopped working on the village. He started rummaging through one of the other boxes, probably hoping to find some distraction.
“And there’s pictures of this?” Slippy asked, eagerly. Fox and Lucy had matching excited expressions, no doubt hoping to see said pictures as well.
“Now, now, if I show ya those pictures I also have t’ git th’ album out,” Peppy said. “It’d only be fair.”
All three of the kids turned back to their self-assigned tasks. Falco’s shoulders slumped slightly in relief. Peppy went over to the box the kid was still digging through. He grabbed a strand of gingerbread lights that had always gone over the window.
“You know I’m going to find those pictures and burn them – or delete them… whatever.” Falco growled under his breath.
Peppy chuckled, ruffling the feathers atop his head, “Good luck with th’t kiddo.”