Avatar didn’t have anything against the Yule season, per se, he just didn’t see much point in it anymore. So, when his roommates told him they wanted to put up a Christmas tree, he attempted to assert his “authority” as putative head of the household by flatly refusing. There wasn’t any room with five adults and several critters in the house, he explained. Unless they wanted to take down his armor stand with his parade armor— and *that * wasn’t going to happen. That was the end of it.

Had Avatar been paying more attention, he might have noticed the exchange of glances.

When he came back from fight practice the next night, the first thing he noticed was that there were blinking Christmas tree lights shining through the front door in the general direction of his armor stand. When he got in, he found his beloved armor right where he’d left it— festooned with lights and ornaments and brightly wrapped packages at it’s feet.

His mischievous housemates had even thoughtfully adorned the helm with a new crest. Not an angel or a Santa Claus, but a tinsel fleur-de-lis.