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One of the first things you notice upon meeting Ultramantis Black are his tattoos. The second thing you notice is that they’re all Christmas themed. The man loves Christmas. Roughly 25% of the surfaces in his house are covered in Christmas memorabilia. There is an entire bookcase dedicated solely to Santa figurines. Hallowicked has learned to (very grudgingly) live with it. The little one, however, has not.
Being as new to the corporeal plane as he is, Frightmare has been having a hard time adjusting to human concepts. Like holidays. Like Christmas. Especially Christmas. The Santa collection (or, as he’d called it in incoherent, the “army of tiny, red, fat old men”) was one of the first things he’d asked Hallowicked about upon being brought to Sleepy Hollow. So naturally, Hallowicked had to sit him down and explain that it is not an army, it is Ultramantis’s Santa collection. Which led to explaining Christmas in general, and Santa Claus in particular.
Frightmare had been horrified. Apparently, the idea of a strange old man who annually breaks into homes throughout the world to leave packages with unknown contents does not sit well with outsiders. Who would’ve guessed. From that point on, contrary to Hallowicked’s hopes, Frightmare had been even more wary of the Santas. He seems to not quite accept the fact that they are inanimate objects, instead insisting that they’re watching him and, in his words, “planning something”. Recently he’s picked up the habit of turning as many around as possible when no one is looking. Mantis always notices though. He’s meticulous like that.
Honestly, Hallowicked thinks, the whole thing was funny at first. He would catch Frightmare turning a few Santas around out of the corner of his eye and pretend not to notice. Then eventually Mantis would come into the living room, inevitably notice the change in his collection, and promptly fix it. Which would then alarm Frightmare slightly, since he’s still not fully convinced they aren’t sentient, and thus capable of independent movement. So the next time, he’d turn around even more. And then Mantis would notice again and fix them. Wash, rinse, repeat. It was like a silent war between two enemies that didn’t even know the other existed.
But then Frightmare started having dreams about armies of tiny Santas abducting him and bringing him back to the North Pole, and Wicked realized that something needed to be done.
Over the top of the morning paper, Hallowicked watches as Frightmare rotates at least one fifth of the Santas with surprising speed. He’s done and back in his seat on the couch within a minute, just a few seconds before Mantis walks through the doorway.
The other man looks over and makes an incredulous howling noise. “Lord have mercy, I was gone for two minutes! Who keeps doing this?” he exclaims exasperatedly as he sets about righting the Santas for “the third time today,” and Hallowicked figures this is as good a time as any to break it to him.
"<It’s Frightmare,>" he says casually, not looking up from the paper. Frightmare makes an indignant sound in the back of his throat, and Mantis rounds on him before he can even open his mouth.
"Frightmare! What is the meaning of this?! We have discussed before the notion of private property, have we not?”
"<Mantis, he doesn’t know what that means,>" Hallowicked supplies helpfully from across the room. "<Use smaller words.>"
"Fine! The ‘no touching’ rule, then!"
Frightmare begins waving his arms and speaking so frantically in incoherent that the only things Hallowicked can really make out are “Santas” and “dangerous”.
"<Listen,>" he begins loudly, cutting off Frightmare and turning to Mantis, "<the Santas scare him.>"
Mantis looks mildly confused. “But I thought you explained—”
"<I did. It didn’t help. It actually made it worse. And really, the whole Santa Claus thing does sound creepy if you think about it. Besides, he still thinks they’re alive. Says he feels like they’re watching him.>"
"<They are! And they’re planning an uprising!>” Frightmare pipes up, bouncing to his knees on the couch.
Choosing to ignore the outburst, Hallowicked continues on very seriously, “<Look, I think it would be best for all of us if you considered getting rid of some of the Santas.>”
Mantis begins to wail dramatically. “No, please, anything—anything but that!”
"<Yes! Their army is too strong!>" Frightmare chips in.
Wicked sighs exasperatedly and pinches the bridge of his nose. Why do I have to deal with such children. From the way Mantis is carrying on, Wicked knows there’s no way he’s going to convince him to give any away. If he’s learned one thing in all the years he’s known Ultramantis Black, it’s that the man is unwaverable in his convictions. Time for a slight change in tactics.
"<Then how about you put some of them in storage? Would that be better?>"
Mantis begins to protest— loudly. The man does not do anything quiet. “B-But this is a collection, Hallowicked! I have spent years amassing this, ever since I was a young arthropod!” Frightmare cocks his head in confusion.
"<Smaller words, Mantis,>" Hallowicked reminds him, but but the other man carries on, unmindful.
"How do you expect me to present this as a proper, respectable collection if half of it’s crammed away in boxes in some cold, musty, unforgiving attic?” Hallowicked has to resist the urge to roll his eyes at his words. Drama queen.
"<It’s still impressive, even if half of it isn’t up. Probably one of the largest Santa collections to ever exist. Definitely the best for several states around.>"
Mantis looks momentarily proud of himself. He crosses his arms and nods once in agreement. “I should say so,” he says, more to himself than to anyone else.
"<So. How about you keep the ones on the bookshelf and pack—" he gestures around to the various Santas covering a large portion of the surfaces in the room, "all the other ones up in storage.>”
"But—"
"<He’s been having nightmares, Mantis.>”
Now Mantis looks a little guilty. “Oh.” He glances away, shuffles on his feet a bit. Mulls things over in his head.
"Well…." He sounds considerate, and Hallowicked mentally crosses his fingers. "I suppose that would be an acceptable plan of action.”
Frightmare, who had been listening intently to the entire conversation, lets out a triumphant whoop and bounces excitedly on the couch again, flinging his arms in the air in victory.
"But I can put them all out for Christmas!" Mantis tacks on hurriedly.
Wicked can’t help smiling. “<Sure. Of course you can.>”