faderift | Under the Second Moon

Under the Second Moon

WHO: Everyone Ever. It's your party!
WHAT: S a t i n a l i a !
WHEN: 1st of Umbralis
WHERE: Kirkwall and the Gallows
NOTES: I volunteered as tribute but have no authority save what having like three free hours has granted me. :D

Once dedicated to the Old Goddess of Freedom, Zazikel—but now attributed more to the second moon, Satina—this holiday is accompanied by wild celebration, the wearing of masks, and naming the town fool as ruler for a day.

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The Gallows

Even tamped down by both the imminence of Corypheus's assault on Ghislain and the doleful pleading eyes of the Seneschal the Inquisition means to do its due diligence to Satinalia, its members beginning to appear fairly early on in the afternoon in anything from simple mask to full and elaborate costume, largely eager to let off some of the pressure that has been building ever since the news of the unanticipated battlefield broke.

Along with handcrafted decorations made from cunningly re-purposed bits of scrap... everything... that liven the main areas of the fortress it seems like someone has gone absolutely ham on decorations of the webbed variety. The hours can nearly be told by the yells of disgust and shrieks of surprise—and the laughter of companions—that rise above other chatter to mark yet another victim of this particularly sticky prank of an adornment.

The courtyard is the site of much preparation during the daylight hours, and then well-lit and filled with a feast that is simple but plentiful at dusk. Also plentiful: wine. Some clever person acquired an immensity of cheap horrible wine, floated some bundles of equally cheap spices in it to make the poor quality slightly less obvious, and set it to heat in a large cauldron over one of the temporary fire pits that has been constructed. It's good there's a late start tomorrow. Music is largely provided by the members of the Inquisition that make practice of it, and as a result, dancing is less an organized affair and more something that just breaks out every so often.

It is also true to its name tonight, some intrepid souls having decided that the opposite sides of it were the best places to set up the rival “throne rooms” that are mostly benches dragged into configuration in front of stacked and blanketed bales of hay. It's not much, but not much is necessary: the true decorations of the impromptu Fools' Courts are the personalities of their respective rulers, each of whom seems to have already collected a small zealous following eager to accomplish whatever ridiculousness they are set to in an effort to depart the normalcy that contains a fight for the Inquisition that is no longer skirmish mission after skirmish mission but full battle, pitched and outright.

(Are half of them wearing... beribboned and otherwise decorated toilet seats of cloth, wood, or folded paper around their necks? Better choose your allegiance wisely, I guess!)

The island fortress has enough nooks and secluded spaces that some privacy can be found even in the midst of full-scale celebration. In seeking unoccupied places, however, every once in a while—around a corner, down a hall—shadows raise and move oddly at the corner of your vision, although a second harder look always seems to reveal only flickering torchlight.

It's a strange night.

The City of Kirkwall

While the threat of war looms here also, rather than dampen itself, the city outside the Inquisition's stronghold has turned that nervous energy outward in frenetic release.

The festival atmosphere persists all day: the markets are bright, packed with both shops and shoppers, filled with those intrepid celebrants who have already donned mask, costume, or both, and loud with the laughter of children running in wild packs to prank and pickpocket the unwary. Trickery is tolerated, if not openly encouraged and rewarded, especially if clever. Even so, the city guard is out in force, just in case someone gets a bit too excited.

Once the sun goes down, the city is lit in a way that almost recalls the events that earned Marian Hawke her title. Fires, large and small, blaze along the streets well past midnight, although it is torch and brazier rather than barricade and home, and while the streets are further lit by the bright light of both moons, one can imagine it is the second moon's light that better illuminates the revelries below.

And revelries there are, with abandon. Near every street has its ardent lovers, its merrymakers, its gleeful dancing and laughter. And, to go with them, its footpads, its drunkards, its whores and gamblers taking their games to the cobblestones. Satinalia's freedom is a little freer when what lurks on the horizon has come close enough that one can nearly catch the threatening glint of its red crystal in the darkness.

Moreso, when you live in a city that knows what it is to burn.

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Rey watches the second tart go with a look of mixed amusement, trying her best to scowl at him despite the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth when he leans in.

"If we were on Jakku and you were trying to steal my food I'd lay you out cold, you know," she replies, trying to keep the laughter out of her voice and not entirely managing. After fixing him with a half-hearted glare for another moment she closes the distance between them, pressing her mouth to his. At least she can get a little of the taste of the tarts he stole.

"Is that so?" His free hand tucks a stray hair behind her ear, barely contained mirth lightening his features. "I think I could beat the odds. I'm sure I could have taken you."

He didn't say it as a put down, of course. He admired her resilience. It was that resilience and cunning that allowed her to escape Starkiller Base back when they had first truly met. She was even stronger than back then.

When she kisses him, he makes a pleased sound against her lips. It was hard to believe that several hours ago he'd been questioning whether he should even go to this celebration. He was glad now that he hadn't missed it.

She's always struggled to prove herself. On Jakku, she would have taken that as a challenge. But knowing Ben the way she does, she knows it isn't, and she doesn't bristle at the words, rather lets them wash over her. He could take her, but ultimately neither one comes out on top. Things are better when they're in harmony with one-another. Side by side, back to back.

Smiling against his lips she kisses him again briefly before pulling away, her free hand rising up to adjust his mask, letting out a little sigh as she does.

"Next year we'll arrive together," she says, partly in response to his thoughts. She's glad he hadn't tried to skip out on the party, it saved her having to decide if she wanted to hunt him down.

"Yes." His answer is immediate. If there was to be a next year, he'd want it to be with her. He smiles fondly, his fingertips tracing her jaw before he drops his hand again to his lap. The party was full of people, yet it felt as if they were the only ones in the room.

"I'm sure you would have been a sight, coming in through the gates and up the steps to the front door. If you'd tried to find me, I would have been home." It was either come here or stay home and let his depression drive him into a corner again. He hadn't drank heavily since those first few days after she'd gone to Obi-Wan's. He was glad it didn't last.

Rey lets out a soft laugh, biting her bottom lip and looking down at her dress, running her fingers over the fabric of her skirt.

"I would have. I wore this for you," she looks back up at him, her eyes seeking his. "I don't care if anyone else sees me in it, I only wanted you to." She had picked the outfit with him in mind, what they were to each other. The light and the darkness, together as one.

He sighs, giving her hand a gentle squeeze, and he drops his gaze to her fingers tracing the fabric of her skirt. Part of him wished that she didn't keep giving him chances. He'd certainly not done a thing to deserve them. He'd done so much worse than the fate he'd bestowed on those elves. He'd massacred planets upon planets of people without a second thought. He didn't deserve chances.

"You have far too much faith in me." Instead of meeting her eyes, he studies their joined hands, his thumb brushing over her skin. He already knows she'll try to deny his assertions, but can't seem to stop his own doubts. They were together, yes, but that didn't magically erase what he'd done. An apology didn't erase murder.

"I'm glad I was able to apologize to you. I think I spent hours trying to write that note for you. I couldn't get the words right." Yet somehow her words - his own, thrown back at him - had been perfect. It had been a reminder. He wished that it could be true. He felt like no matter what he did he kept slinking back to the dark where he felt safe, where he knew his purpose. He didn't feel so awkward and unsure of himself when he was giving in to those base urges to feed on anger and hate. With Rey, and to a lesser extent Obi-wan, he felt so unsure of his place. The Light left him reeling and on unsteady footing.

She knows that he doesn't feel like he deserves the faith she places on him. That really just makes her all the more determined to never give up on him. He should know that about her, by now.

"It was a good apology. You did fine with the words," she smiles again, her free hand reaching to touch her fingers to the underside of his chin, lifting his face to try to get him to look at her.

"We're connected, you know that. Nothing will ever change how I feel about you, even when things upset me. Remember how we met? I've already seen the worst parts of you. But I also see the best." She furrows her brow, barely visible behind her mask. "Who you are is so much more than the light and the darkness. I love you exactly as you are, and I can say with absolute certainty that that will never change."

Many things in her life have been uncertain, but the way she feels for him, she knows that is real. She is certain of her love for him, and their life together.

He looks at her when coaxed, his lips pressed into a thin line as he just drinks in his fill of her. The dress, the mask, even the way she had done her hair - he didn't want to lose the image. Just as it would be on any normal day he clung to the sight of her. He had come to rely on her by his side. Losing that even for several days had felt like having all the air leave his lungs.

"I remember." But... He wants to believe her. He wants to believe that he's worth the sentiment. "That person - who I was - hasn't gone away. You know I did terrible things before I met you and I want to say that I won't still do terrible things now. I don't know what the future holds."

He couldn't say that he could entirely push out the darkness that he gave into so easily. There was still that capacity with in him to do great evil. There was truth in the knowledge that it was what he chose to act on that mattered but the darkness still felt as inescapable as a black chasm that threatened to swallow him whole. Snoke had sunk his claws so deep that even in death his greatest creation still struggled between the light and darkness.

She can both see and feel the conflict in him, that endless battle of light against dark. Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth she nods her head, shifting her touch on his chin so her knuckles are curled under his jaw, her thumb tracing over his skin.

"I know. But I accepted that when I decided to be with you. So we don't worry about the future. Or the past. We just focus on being here." She gives him a small smile, shrugging her shoulders. There isn't really more to it than that, though sometimes it feels complicated, and their emotions when together could get overwhelming. She does still believe there's a future for them, together, but focusing on the present, and how much they love each other now feels more important.

His hand rises to her own cheek, practically engulfing her cheek by comparison. He still felt anxious, as if he might close his eye sand she would be gone. It was made better just by listening to her voice, feeling her thumb trace over his skin. It made him feel better, like he wasn't completely lost if she just believed in him. It was all he ever wanted from his family - for them to believe in him.

He sucks on his own bottom lip, letting it go quickly after, and blinks owlishly at her. The whirlwind of relief and self doubt and longing was enough to nearly drive him to tears. His eyes burned with them as he leaned in again to kiss her.

"Promise me you won't leave again?" He hovers between pulling away and staying close for a moment before sitting straighter in his seat again. He can imagine he's asking for a lot, given the reason she left in the first place. If it happened again, he wondered if she'd even come back to him.

She's hesitant to rush to that promise, though in her heart she wants to respond immediately they yes, she'll never leave him again. It had nearly killed her to do, and certainly she's in no rush to repeat that parting.

"I can't promisei won't leave again. I don't know what the future holds... And we might be separated by things we can't control. But I can promise you I will always come back." This is important for Rey in so many ways, because her family never came back for her. But the people who have mattered truly, they have.

"Things we can't control, I understand, but you willingly leaving me," He grimaces, realizing that he almost sounds accusatory. He doesn't mean to be and yet it's still a fresh wound. "I can't take being pushed away again."

His parents had done it. Luke had nearly killed him. The loneliness of her absence was still like a festering wound he was trying to heal. He couldn't handle the idea that Rey would disappear again. That didn't mean she had to accept what he'd done, but he didn't want her to leave him again. He felt an almost obsessive need to hold her to that promise.

"We need to- I don't know. Work things out. Whatever it is normal people do. I didn't exactly have the best model for this kind of thing growing up. My parents were never there." He sighs, running a hand through his messy black hair.

"I just want you to promise me that if I've done something nearly that stupid again that you won't run away again." If she accepts him as she says she does, that shouldn't be a hard promise to make.

Oh. She sort of knew that was what he'd meant, of course. But she's not sure if that's a promise she can make, either. If he is impulsive and makes a mistake, that she can forgive. But if the darkness were to win out entirely... Then again, she knows in that case that they both know it won't be a happy end.

"I won't leave you again. I promise, I'll be here for you." she reaches out, taking his other hand, holding them both in hers. "We'll figure things out together."

"Good. I mean-" He isn't sure what else he can say about it. He feels relieved that she would agree, that she won't leave him again. Somehow they had come back together despite their argument. It took a weight off his shoulders.

"Good." He looks to their joined hands, his shoulders dropping as he relaxes. He still didn't feel great, after all of that, but it was better. Being with her would always be better. After a moment of silence, he looks up to her again, trying to smile a little. "So, how long did it take to do all of this? The decorations and the food."

It wasn't the best transition but he was trying. The last thing they needed was to be sad all night. She'd worked hard. He wanted to celebrate that. He wanted to celebrate the two of them being together.

She watches him carefully as he goes through the motions, she can tell he isn't feeling great, still, but she knows that won't be fixed just in one night. That they're speaking again, that they're together again, that's enough.

Letting out a huff of a laugh at his segue she looks up, looking around the room before her eyes settle back on him.

"Setting it up took the better part of the last few weeks. Everything went up last night, though."

"It's amazing to me that they still find time for things like this, despite everything else going on." He supposes that's true of anywhere. You find things that make you happy wherever you can. The circumstances were irrelevant.

"I'm glad that you were able to keep busy." She wasn't the type to wallow in sadness the way he was. He's almost envious of it. Had she known they would eventually come back together? Somehow she always seemed to have faith in him that he so desperately lacked in himself and other people.

It says a lot to the depth of her feeling towards Ben that she had wallowed more in her sadness over their separation than she had most other things in her life. All the same, she had done what she always does, compartmentalized and shut away the pain, focused on what distracted her from it until she was so exhausted that she crashed into bed without having to lie awake thinking.

"You know me, I can't sit still," she replies, a little subdued. She bites her lip, looking down at their hands, shifting her thumbs to run over the back of his fingers, as far as she can reach. His hands dwarf hers, so it isn't much. "It's easier to keep myself busy, less time to sit and think. I might have decided to start drinking to get back at you." She looks up at him, her eyebrows slightly raised a hint of mischief sparkling in her eyes.

"Ugh. I'm glad you didn't and I am sorry about that." He makes a face, giving her hands a gentle squeeze. He wasn't proud of himself for getting completely shitfaced instead of dealing with his problems. He was even less proud of the fact that he'd dumped said problems on her friend. Well, he supposes she's his friend, too. Sort of. It's still a foreign concept to him - friends. He's not good at it any more than he's good at being in a relationship.

"Hopefully it wasn't as bad for you?" His mouth had tasted like something furry had slept in it and he'd promptly emptied his stomach the next morning in their bathroom, but otherwise he came out of the experience unscathed. It was a smug reminder that there were some parts of him that were still very much like his father. Ben had been irresponsible by comparison.

"I'm sorry. I know that leaving wasn't easy and I hope I never put you in that position again." He knew now what he could and couldn't live without. Watching her leave had probably been more painful than waking up and realizing she hadn't killed him before leaving the Supremacy.

"I had a headache, but it wasn't too bad," she replies with a smile, squeezing his hands in return. She'd had some vague sensations of what he'd been going through, but she'd ignored it. Maybe reveled in it a little, because she had still been angry. The smile fades a moment later as he apologizes again, and she nods.

"I know we're still figuring this out. Neither one of us has ever been in a position to be with another person like this." As much as 'like this' didn't even seem like something the average person would be involved in. Their relationship was hard for her to define, even as she'd grown more comfortable referring to him as boyfriend at the same time it didn't accurately describe what he was to her. He's the missing piece of her soul, for better or for worse.

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Under the Second Moon

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