though it's been said many times, many ways

[more_magic]

It’s strange to think of where he was a year ago, exactly. Waking up in Alex’s bed, hung over from the shame of the night before and the lingering effects of whatever Manuscript had given him, preparing for his first full day in a city outside of the world he knew and realizing in the process that he’d lost nearly two months in the space of a breath. There were more shocks to come, more alterations in what he thought to be true, but very little had managed to surpass the disorientation of that initial beginning to his tenure in Darrow.

Back then, Darlington had wondered what they might have done at home, if Alex would’ve been on a plane to California at the start of break--or if he might have managed to convince her to stay, to spend Christmas at Black Elm with him. What they got instead was better, that makeshift celebration with hastily-bought gifts and the smell of a half-remembered recipe wafting from Alex’s kitchen; the start of something new, even if neither of them had known the depths of that newness at the time. And now, a year on, through hard work and some kind of miracle, he gets what he’d wondered about after all.

Christmas Day will be just for them, presents and breakfast and relaxing by the fire, but tonight is a chance to celebrate. They decorate the main floor of Black Elm, filling the rooms they’ve already managed to furnish with light and warmth, the tree they’d bought earlier in the month standing by one of the large picture windows in the great room. Alex cooks all of Estrea Stern’s recipes she can think of, adds a few of Bernadette’s that Darlington remembers from his childhood. There’s music low on the stereo, a fire lit in the vast fireplace, the new table and chairs they’d bought for the formal dining room arranged just so beneath the chandelier at the center of the room. Even Kirby gets into the spirit in a new, festive collar, bright red against his black fur.

Above all, they’ve invited the people that matter, the few who have come to mean something--to one or both of them--in the year that’s just passed. It’s the first real party Black Elm has seen in many years, not since Darlington’s grandfather was alive. It feels, once again, like starting something new.

[[tag in, tag around, enjoy the party!]]

Comments

[maloscuridad]

"Hey bonita," Nova replies. He slings an arm around Blue's shoulders and tucks her properly against him. It's a tight, familial hug that speaks of his regard for her, no matter how much she's going to scoff at the nickname. Despite what Blue thinks, he doesn't actually say that to all the girls.

"Fucking huge, yeah," he says.

[formicine]

She leans into the hug, and though she smirks, doesn't actually scoff. Nova fits into an elect category of guys who can call her things like that; it's a thing that builds over months and years, but it's nice to realize, over again, that he's family of a sort.

"It's weird. I know it's just Darlington and Alex, but this place feels like it should have like -- a gardener and a housekeeper, you know? They did good, though." It's lovely, and considering it doesn't have any kind of staff, all the more work to make it that way.

"How're the holidays treating you?" This time of year is always weird for her, more so because she grew up with Solstice as one of the more important of the various holidays celebrated in the house. It's not a major holiday for most people, and the lack of family and a crowded house makes parties like this a little bit of a relief, no matter how intimidating the setting.

[maloscuridad]

An off-color joke hovers at the tip of Nova's tongue in response to the comment about the gardener and housekeeper, but it's the kind of thing he's pretty sure his grandmother would've slapped him upside the head for. It'd probably earn him at least a glare from Blue.

"They're happening," he says, shrugging. Christmas is a thing that happens around him, not for him. Around this time of year, Brujes light candles for the solstice and invite La Mamá back in for the new year. There are songs, a craving for light, and decadent cakes for eating, but they're not Christmas.

"The kid in the manger is someone else's salvation."

[formicine]

She sees a little bit of a sardonic expression hit his eyes at her comment about the gardener, and she's pretty sure it's nothing she hasn't already thought of. The uncomfortable jokes make themselves, especially growing up in Virginia. She doubts Connecticut's much better, historically.

"I didn't ask you if you were personally acquainted with our Lord and Savior," she sasses him back, grinning. They'd celebrated nearly everything at Fox Way, but they weren't exactly church-going, and so it'd more faded into a season of lights against the darkness. "Brujos don't have any holidays this time of year? I feel like every culture has an excuse to light fires for the longest nights."

[maloscuridad]

Nova catches Blue catching him and smiles at their unspoken exchange. It's enough to know that they're both thinking the same thing without letting it actually hit the air. Especially not in earshot of their hosts.

"Yeah, we light candles for solstice, that kind of thing," he says. "We ask el Papá to keep the night safe and to let la Mamá take back her day."

Nova can't help but tease Blue a little, raising his eyebrows. "There's some real nice rezos all about how he lengthens the night so they can keep making love."

[formicine]

She represses a laugh at their little knowing look, and instead tips her head in interest at his description of the holidays, nodding. It's unusual, she thinks, at least a little, that the feminine one is the sun for brujes, but a little welcome for the change up. "It sounds nice."

Then he has to go and be Nova about it and she laughs. "Yeah, I bet those got your attention," she rolls her eyes. "I mean," she allows, partly because she thinks it'll surprise him, and last Christmas she didn't have anyone to snuggle with, "cold weather is a pretty good excuse to stay in bed."

[maloscuridad]

Blue teases him but it's hardly anything and Nova kind of knows he's lost, so he gives her an easy grin. "The Deos aren't perfect but it's kinda nice, you know? Making the night stretch on 'cause he doesn't want to let her go." It's a romantic idea, in the abstract at least. Nova doesn't actually know if he'd ever seen two people who were really, actually in love in his life until maybe Alex and Rishi.

"I used to have one of those sleeping bags. The really insulated kind, right? You never wanna leave those on a cold day."

[formicine]

"It's romantic," she agrees, smiling. "There's a scene like that in Romeo and Juliet, isn't there? Juliet tells Romeo it's not really day because she doesn't want him to leave." Blue grins wryly. "I mean, I assume it goes a little better for the Deos."

That speaks of some rougher times than she's exactly sure that she knew about, and she just nods, understanding even if she doesn't know the details. "We were lucky," she says instead, "in Virginia, that it didn't get too cold. The mountains got more snow than we did. Once or twice a winter it'd dump everything on the valley, but if it was a bad year we could still just pile quilts on top of each other. Not like here, or New York, I'm guessing."

[maloscuridad]

"Is there?" He knows the story, in general, but not anything about the actual lines. Probably, if he'd had a chance to be a normal kid who went to school, he'd have read it. Or been told to read it and fucked off to watch the movie instead.

"But nah, not really. According to our stories, we have Death because La Mamá cheated on El Papá with the sky." It's irreverent but the Deos have earned more reverence from him than they deserved. It's a simple truth, anyway. Their gods are flawed.

[formicine]

"You'd think gods would have it more together, but every culture there is has them cheating on each other and causing havoc," she says, never one for reverence herself. "Or go ahead and invent open relationships, if they're going to stay together anyway."

"It's kind of good she did cheat, though," she points out. "No one likes Death, but if it didn't exist at all, there'd be millions of people just living forever and taking up space and, who knows, maybe still getting old and senile anyway. Hell, you couldn't even have animals and plants, without cell decay." She taps the Death tarot card tattoo on her arm with the other hand. "It's horrible, but nothing happens without it."