faderift | SATINALIA 2: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO.

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SATINALIA 2: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO.

WHO: All
WHAT: A second crack at celebrating Satinalia, because we deserve nice things.
WHEN: Mid-Firstfall
WHERE: The Gallows, in the gardens.
NOTES: n/a

It's twilight when Second Satinalia is in its fullest swing. The weather is unseasonably warm, and so they've made use of the gardens as the site for partying. Carefully placed lanterns shine through the odd tree or hover over bushes that have since lost their flowers.

However, decoration makes up for the lack of springtime flora. The space is decorated in shining garlands of gold and silver ribbons, paper flowers, and hanging ornamentations that flip between moons and suns. (If they look a little used, it's because these are second-hand decorations from slightly more affluent Satinalia parties been and gone, borrowed or donated.) There is also a firepit, providing a source of warmth and light.

In the invitations that went out, everyone was encouraged to come in costume as they'd intended to, but noted that for those whom their costumes were ruined or they would simply like to wear something different, there will be masks available, along with some costume pieces—fake jewelry, big hats, faux-velvet and harlequin coats, and so on, though they must be given back, s'il vous plaît. Florent will also offer his abilities in face painting and makeup prior to the party beginning, and will talk you into going spooky in case more skeletons come and they need to blend in to throw them off. (He can be found with his own stylish paintwork, a skeletal design in silver and white and grey.)

Everyone has also been invited to bring along some food and drink if they have it, as their budget is run a bit thin, but there will definitely be enough wine to go around, and some fruits and sweet pastries purchased from the market that day all offered on a table.

There is some music, a few local musicians (who have been promised, variously, tickets to shows, or work opportunities with certain prominent Orlesian playhouses, which may or may not be legitimate) set up with a fiddle, some percussion instruments, something that resembles a very elaborate xylophone, all playing a diverse array of up tempo tunes that allow for a bit of dancing in the more open area of the garden, but otherwise suffuses the shadows and fractured conversations with pleasant noise.

Drink, be merry, don't kill anyone.

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What Ellie is saying is easily understood. This is some precious, painful piece of herself she's offering up. The tenderness in the way she says these names is so very clear. Derrica's gaze doesn't waver from Ellie's face, watching her as she speaks.

You must miss them Derrica thinks to say, and stops herself. She knows very well that statements like that are like putting fingers on a bruise. Of course Ellie misses them. If she didn't, her voice wouldn't sound this way.

"Would it be alright if you told me what JJ is like?" might be painful too, in a way. Which is why Derrica amends, "If you want to."

They can talk about something else. They can always talk about something else, if Ellie wants. Derrica never wants to draw something from Ellie that she would rather not speak about. And especially not tonight, when they're meant to be celebrating.

Derrica knows; she always seems to. Sometimes even before Ellie does. The question brings out a long pause, a hurt that knocks her breathless.

But maybe less, a little less, than she'd feared. He's all right, somewhere beyond the Rifts. He's safe and happy, surrounded by people who love him, and that's what matters.

"He's um-" Ellie licks her bottom lip. Watching different stars. "Walking and talking, by now."

Ellie pauses, again, and it's like a physical push, deep in her chest.

"When Dina had him he was so little and wrinkly, like a little potato." She laughs, under her breath. Remembering. "So I called him that. Potato. Little spud. Screamed a whole lot, liked to try to eat your fingers..." a small smile settles on her face.

"He'd always go quiet when I sang to him, just- little stupid songs I'd make up. I'd take him out to the stables and the paddock all the time so he could see the sheep and the horses. He loved riding with me. When the lambs came, he was obsessed."

"You had a farm."

Had Ellie mentioned that before? Derrica can't recall, and it feels like something new. And she aches over it for Ellie, aches that she's here when she could be there. It sounds like a good place, a home with a family Ellie had pieced together for herself.

She reaches to take Ellie's free hand, lace their fingers loosely together in silent comfort.

"I'm sorry you're not with him," Derrica tells her gently. Ellie is here, trapped into this war for who knows how long. It is a hard thing, even without a child waiting for her beyond the rifts.

"Yeah. Sheep, a couple of horses. We had a vegetable garden. A chicken coop. I built a fence around it."

Drove the metal stakes deep into the earth while her arm healed up properly, working until Dina was too close to delivering to help.

Ellie's hand is loose in Derrica's, soft and sick with guilt and longing.

She takes a long drag off the joint, letting the smoke curl up and around her head. She looks up at the stars.

He's better off, she wants to say, wants that bitter self-hatred to settle and stick, because she's so used to hating something. But there really isn't anything left to burn.

"Yeah," she says. Very quietly. "Me too."

What is there to say?

There is quiet instead. Ellie smokes. Derrica folds her hand between both of her own, thumb stroking lightly along her knuckles. The scale of all that Ellie's lost feels so vast. Derrica doesn't know how to alleviate the pain of it.

"I'm sorry," she says softly, a little twitch of a smile working sadly across her face. "I've made you sad on Satinalia."

Second Satinalia, whatever that counts for.

Derrica doesn't have to -- there's nothing that really can but time, and work. Good work. And finally, slowly, Ellie is starting to realize that.

She curls her fingers around Derrica's to squeeze, emptying her lungs, and shuts her eyes.

"Nah," she says quietly. "I was thinking about them already. It kinda-" she rolls the joint over in her fingertips, looking at the ember of light in the gloom.

"... it's nice. Getting to talk about him to someone."

Because she hasn't.

"You can always talk to me," Derrica reminds her. "I like hearing about it."

And Ellie had smiled when she was talking of it. This was a good memory. It is a gift, Ellie letting Derrica share it with her.

"Does it help you?" she asks, tipping her head towards the joint.

"Cool," Ellie says, choking it out softly. She can't quite look her in the eyes yet, but it's still an important step, one that will be the first of a long journey. It shines light down the tunnel, lets her know there's somewhere to be that isn't here.

She considers the joint, then shrugs, handing it back to Derrica.

"Yeah, actually," she murmurs, leaning back on her hands. "I get- what's it called, phantom pain? In my fingers, and my arm. This keeps them from getting too stiff."

Cool is enough acknowledgement.

The offer is there. Ellie will find it a comfort or she won't. Derrica knows it's worse to pry, to try and dig the hurt out of Ellie.

That isn't what she's here for.

She lifts one hand from Ellie's to take the joint. Her inhale is more of an afterthought, just because it's expected, because Ellie offered and Derrica likes the little brush of their fingers and the act of sharing more than she likes the smoke itself. She still holds it through the deep burn in her chest for a moment before tipping her head back to exhale a muddle of smoke that might have been an attempt at a smoke ring.

"Is it worse now? In the cold?"

A question that comes solely because Derrica wants there to be some fixable element to what Ellie is describing, even if she suspects there isn't.

Ellie can't help a little smile; Derrica's always trying. It's endearing, but at the same time, she's in a place to start to worry about her, to sense the pattern here.

There are reasons why some people compulsively take care of others. She has a horrible suspicion she's starting to piece together Derrica's.

"It's not so bad now, this is barely cold," Ellie says with a sideways grin, watching the way she blows the smoke rings. Definitely not somebody who does it all the time. She feels honored.

"Once it starts snowing like crazy though, yeah. I feel that shit in my knees, too."

"Kirkwall's a bad place to avoid the cold."

The tail-end of the statement muddled by the joint. A minor pause follows as Derrica holds in a breath, relinquishing the joint. Her grip on Ellie's hand shift, lacing fingers together as she twitches a smile, exhales a second, formless stream of smoke.

"Once we spent a month or so in the Vinmark mountains around this time of year," Derrica says. "Lucky for your knees, I think we'll need to stay close to home this winter."

Home. A word that doesn't quite fit the way Derrica says it. Kirkwall is something to her, comfortable, but not quite home. And she doesn't think it's home to Ellie either, though Derrica thinks Ellie's a little more at ease here than she was when they'd first met in the Gallows.

"I'm used to Wyoming," Ellie says with a laugh, easily lacing their hands together. The contact feels good, and it's starting to be a normal part of Derrica, something that Ellie looks forward to. "It's probably closer to the Vinmark Mountains. And at least it's not fucking raining all the time, that was the worst part about traveling."

That was probably the most annoying weather as far as Ellie was concerned.

Home, Derrica says, and Ellie nods, thoughtful. She squints and she takes another pull, holds it and lets it out her nose. Finally, she's feeling relaxed. (The paranoia is there under the surface, but some part of her trusts that the others are sober enough.)

"What were you doing out there? Hunting Venatori?"

"Nothing so exciting."

Wyoming is a mystery; Derrica has so little context for it that even the comparison to Vinmark Mountains doesn't quite cast light upon it.

But she has the gist. It's enough that she continues on, rather than stopping to try and coax details from Ellie.

"We were doing little jobs for Viscount Bran. Closing rifts, helping villagers, whatever else the area needed. It was pleasant, actually."

Even considering that Derrica had fallen through ice into freezing water. This detail is shrugged away, though it prompts the question, "Can you ice skate?"

"That does sound nice, actually." Even with the cold- getting to do something direct. A little fighting, a little helping. It sounds like Derrica. She wonders who the "we" is, but that goes by the wayside at her question.

"Not well," Ellie says with a snicker. "But I tried a few times. You?"

"I'm alright."

Upright on skates, all one can ask for.

She gives a little squeeze of Ellie's hand, drawing up one leg onto the bench and shifting position slightly as she continues, "We should try to find some time, if it gets cold enough for it this year. We could bring Matthias along. And maybe Holden."

Derrica would have included Astarion, but surely Astarion isn't interested in cold or unnecessary exertion.

"We'll probably get to that sooner than a trip to the beach," Ellie says with a grin, running her thumb across Derrica's knuckles. She pauses momentarily, watching the way the vapor rises from their mouths, and shifts.

She pulls her hand out of Derrica's gently, in favor of wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close to her side.

She scoops up her hand again once she's there, holding on -- and it's really much warmer this way.

That, and her time with Astarion has made her realize just how very touch-starved they all are. Derrica's constantly reaching out, and Ellie's finally beginning to realize that it's not just for her benefit.

"Think they'd like that," she says softly. "Especially Holden. Dude desperately needs a vacation."

It is warmer this way.

Though there is a moment, very briefly, where Derrica feels some minor spark of uncertainty. This is good. It is easy, being close to Ellie. It is easy to link their hands together in the privacy of the garden. It is easy, but that doesn't mean it isn't weighted down with everything else behind it. Ellie is trusting her with this closeness.

Thinking on it keeps her quiet for a moment. This close she can smell the smoke mingling between them and the minty scent of the Gallows soap.

"He does," Derrica agrees softy. She doesn't reach back for the joint. Derrica uncurls by degrees, turning in towards Ellie within the circle of her arm, one knee against Ellie's thigh. "But I don't think he's very good at them."

However—

"Ellie?"

Easy, thankfully, and close. Derrica doesn't pull away, but she can feel her tense and hesitate, and Ellie goes still, holding her breath without realizing it. The soft blue glow shimmers over her heart, but doesn't take her out of sight before she remembers.

She's overstepped somehow. Fuck.

"Yeah?"

"It's alright," comes first, even without understanding the full meaning of that flicker of blue. The way Ellie tenses in return telegraphs her reaction, and Derrica needs to dispel that first.

This is good. It's only—

"Can I ask you something? About what you want?"

Wanting is bound to be a complicated thing. After all, they had only just spoken of the things Ellie had left behind. A woman, Dina. A baby that Ellie glowed talking about. And then there was everything else.

And there was Derrica, who cannot be sure her instincts are leading her in the correct direction. Wanting doesn't always lead her towards the right thing. And she cares so deeply for Ellie, understands that it means something for Ellie to reach for her this way. It's precious. It shouldn't be risked.

There it is -- frank and blunt in a way that Ellie can fully appreciate, and she closes her eyes for more than a breath, letting the breath press out of her lungs. She looks down at the joint in her fingers, shifts up enough to lay her ankle across her knee and stub it out on the bottom of her boot.

She could try to dodge the question, but. They both know what Derrica's asking, and it's important, or she wouldn't.

There's heat in Ellie's ears, and she presses her lips together, her fingers slack in Derrica's grip.

"Nothing. Really." She says it quietly. "Just- y'know. This. Whatever this is."

Ellie takes a deep breath again, and reaches up with her other hand, rubbing at her cheek, the joint dangling from her fingers.

"I, um- sorry. It's not that you're not gorgeous, but I- I'm not ready for anything. Anyone. Not- not saying that you are, but-"

Fuck, she's fumbling.

"Sorry for making it weird."

A question Derrica might have asked before they'd smoked. Maybe it's a little unfair, choosing now. But it feels necessary. They are so close. Derrica could so easily wind closer. She'd like to.

She knows that's not quite wise, not without some clarity as to what the pair of them are doing.

Whatever this is could become such a muddy, indistinct thing. Derrica has learned to map out the edges, especially when she is so aware of the places Ellie could snag herself on.

Her hand comes to catch Ellie's slack fingers up, bracket her fingertips between their laced fingers and her own palm as Derrica turns in more completely. The space between them narrows, but is preserved. Derrica doesn't close it, just resettles herself, all of her angled in.

"Please don't apologize," she tells Ellie. "You never have to apologize for being honest with me."

This is important too. It matters what's true to Ellie. Derrica doesn't want her to curtail that trying to please her.

"I like what we have. Our friendship. It's important to me," Derrica says, before shaking her head a little, clarifying, "You are important to me."

And after a beat of quiet, Derrica resting their joined hands over the bend of her knee, she asks, "What does anything mean, when you think of it?"

This is the question that's confusing. Ellie had thought that she'd been clear- and she just got done telling Derrica about her ex and kid in another reality, it's not-

It's been a while. No matter what way she slices it. But she's still not ready, and she's not sure if she ever will be.

And Derrica eases in closer, as if in reassurance, taking back the distance between them, and Ellie slowly relaxes. Clarification. That's all. She's not going to feel weird around Ellie, it's not going to fuck up their friendship if she's honest.

Ellie looks down at her hands, and allows herself that honesty. Maybe it's the elfroot, maybe it's her, maybe it's the closeness and how this place feels like a dream, but she's tired of feeling afraid.

"You're important to me, too," Ellie says softly.

"Anything... like-" she hesitates, but it's the hesitation of someone trying to find the right words. It seems presumptuous as fuck to put it like this, because Derrica hasn't offered anything of the sort, but-

"We weren't married, but it- it was close," Ellie murmurs, looking at the joint. After a beat of silence too long, she flicks it away into the dark, where it lands among the weeds.

"I'm not ready to be with someone like that again. I'm not- over her. Not really." Ellie huffs a soft, humorless laugh. "But it's over. And I don't blame her. I wasn't- I'm still not-"

Fuck.

"I can't give somebody a real relationship," she says, finally spelling it out. "It wouldn't be fair."

A confirmation: We weren't married, but it was close.

This too is a confirmation: I can't give somebody a real relationship.

So there is a moment of quiet between them. Derrica watches Ellie's face. There is pain there. The embarrassment has ebbed away. Her expression hasn't closed off, which is a measure of trust too. Derrica looks down at their hands, lifts them so she can shift her fingers and put a soft kiss to Ellie's knuckles.

"I've never wanted a real relationship," Derrica tells her. "Whatever that means."

Real relationship is a thing that shifts meaning, Derrica's found. Kostos is real to her. Loxley is real to her. The terms they've created, the familiarity and trust they place in each other not to push the other beyond their shared boundaries.

But pressing the point feels like pressing Ellie towards something she doesn't want. Derrica might be wrong. She could have misread, or it could be simply a function of her own wanting. She shakes her head.

"I'm afraid if I try to explain, it'll sound like I'm trying to convince you of something," she admits, with a small flicker of a smile. "But you should know that about me. I don't want to be with anyone that way."

It's a confusing conversation, but feelings usually are. Tangled, messy things that take up too much space and make it hard to think. What she's sure of is Derrica's affection for her, and the fact that she's not about push her away.

Ellie's come to her with far weirder shit than this.

The small, soft kiss makes her heart beat up into her throat, has her cheeks furiously flushing. Her breath is a quick little gasp, her grip tight, because it casts everything in a different light.

"Okay, now you need to explain," Ellie sputters, lifting both eyebrows to stare at her. Because she's not making any sense.

At least- not to Ellie's limited experience. Her relationships have been very different.

Yes, Derrica does need to explain.

Her brow furrows, thoughtful, before she carefully straightens. It isn't a rejection, not a retreat. But it is a gentle disentangling. Creating some space between them before she starts to speak, but it feels unfair, feels like she's tipping the scales, exerting some kind of pressure by staying curled in so close. Their shoulders stay close, where Ellie had maneuvered them. But the intimate drape recedes, put on hold for the moment.

One hand lifts to tease the folds of her shawl. The other stays intertwined with Ellie's, resting on her thigh.

"I don't like..."

Derrica starts, stops. Laughs a little as she sakes her head. The importance of saying it correctly is harder than it had been with Kostos, who had shared this preference with her.

"I don't want to be someone's wife," Derrica tells her, plucking up shorthand for the kind of stifling, closed off thing the idea of real relationship summons. "I can't be that. It doesn't fit me. When I'm with someone, it's because I care about them, and I like their company. And because they don't mind that they aren't the only one I'm with. They don't want to keep me all to themselves."

The fact that is feels like being caught up in a cage, sealed in a tiny box—

Derrica doesn't say this.

She draws up one leg to put her heel on the bench, rest her elbow on her knee and prop her chin on her palm before saying, "I like that we're friends. If you want something more than what we have now, or if you don't want anything else but this, it won't change anything."

SATINALIA 2: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO.

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rereads tag, observes typo with frown

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thanks for patience, brain is mush

who among us does not have mush-brain i ask

gently places a bow on this