Say When (A New Year's Brunch)

[eliotwaugh]

Eliot had been warned by various people that New Year's often brings some kind of supernatural mischief to Darrow, and this news had only made him more determined to stick to his plan. No power of god or man or eldritch entity place-spirit or army of fish people will prevent him from throwing a damn party. 

It made sense, really, and part of him wishes he'd done something like this before now. He needn't frame it as a sort of surrender to this imprisonment, but rather just indulging in something frivolous because, as far as his understanding of the metaphysics goes, none of this really counts. So why shouldn't he enjoy it? He's been here long enough to decorate the apartment some, and it really is a marvel the amount of things available through Nile. There's more comfortable furniture, potted plants, and a series of apothecary cabinets and display cases for magical components that give the whole place the air of some eccentric explorer's gallery of curiosities. 

He's even managed to get enough appliances that the little kitchen is decently functional, and has spent a few days stocking up and preparing for what he hopes will a successful brunch. He has enough eggs to feed an army. There will be copious crepes. There will be mimosas for days. 

Eliot's used to working through a wicked hangover this time of year, so he built that into consideration in his prep time. Thanks to the night's adventure, though, he spends his downtime sober and scrubbing mer-blood off of himself, and still feels a bit frazzled by the time the first guests arrive.

[It's time for brunch! Brunch is a state of mind, not an actual timeframe, so please feel free to have your pups show up whenever in the day, honestly. Tag in, tag around, chase the memory of merman horror away with a mimosa, air your grievances and dirty laundry in the neutral ground of Eliot's apartment. This is a safe space. For Drama.]

Comments

[formicine]

Blue grins and hugs him right back, solidly and glad to see him. Tipsy Martin is a hugger, how about that. She thinks of the first time she'd hugged him -- he'd felt like he needed it, like he wasn't quite used to it.

"Good. I think. Alive and mimosa'd," she decides, "which is better than some people, after last night, I think." She can't imagine having died by floppy merman, but she'd heard there were some casualities. "Were you out in it at all?"

[loficharm]

She hugs him back, just as nice as he remembered—she is wonderfully good at them—and his smile stays warm and happy as he pulls back, even as she mentions the turmoil of the previous night.

"Oh, we were," he says, flapping a hand about it. "Awful business, but we managed to avoid the worst of it, for the most part. I'm glad it wasn't... well, worse than it was." He shrugs and takes a sip of his drink. "And I'm glad Eliot decided to have this on as planned. I think we all probably needed it."

He looks at her, wondering what to say next, feeling vaguely guilty about the wealth of options. There's a lot that's happened, a lot that's been difficult to talk about, and keeping everyone apprised was a more difficult task than he'd anticipated—even without his temporary return to the Lonely. Probably because he's simply never had this many people in his life at once who actually do care to know what's going on. He supposes it's possible Kat's kept her informed, but equally possible she wouldn't have thought it her business to share.

"Honestly, last night was almost a break for us. Things have been a bit... messy, of late." It's impossible not to wince at his own choice of word, a bit too literal in some ways. "I'm sorry I haven't been in touch."

[formicine]

"It was living gingerbread cookies, last year," she says, matter-of-factly. "Armed with little cocktail forks. Tris and I --" She pauses, realizing that Martin wasn't here while Tris was. "My girlfriend then," she says with what she hopes is a natural or at least brave smile, and hides any stumble behind a sip of mimosa. "We had a room at Kagura, so we sort of held back the siege and battened down."

Her brow furrows, frowning. "Don't apologize. I mean, anyway. But I heard bits, from Kat. I could tell she wasn't sure how much was her business to say. Is John...is everything all right now?" She isn't sure how much is her business to ask after, but she feels as though she ought to make it clear that she considers them people to worry after. Or avenge, small an avenger as she might be.

[loficharm]

"Oh," he says of the gingerbread cookies. That sounds... exactly as stupid and underwhelming as last night's danger, certainly not anything he'd apply the word siege to, but perhaps it was somehow worse than it sounds.

Whatever mild curiosity he might have over that is quickly forgotten when the conversation turns to John. He sobers a bit, proverbially at least, and nods. "He's all right. Miraculous recovery is very much in his wheelhouse."

It's hard to tell how much Blue actually knows, and he resigns himself to the possibility that they'll be dancing around a bit until someone finally gets up the nerve to reference John's near murder directly. He's not exactly relishing that, but at least Blue is someone he trusts. He takes another sip of his drink, hoping for a bit of alcoholic fortification.

[formicine]

She's not sure that his recovery being miraculous is something she should be glad for, exactly, but she nods in -- acknowledgement, approval? Something like that -- anyway, sipping her mimosa. "Are we speaking proverbially or, actually miraculous?" she asks, frowning.

They are speaking about a man who can read minds, feeds on statements of terror, and has once been a cat, after all. The idea that it was some normal mugging strikes Blue as a little bit more unlikely than the alternative.

[loficharm]

Ah. Well, that clears that up neatly, and Martin can't quite keep from frowning into his drink as though he's suddenly lost the taste for it. He hasn't, though he thinks he'll need to save it to follow the explanation.

"Well," he says, huffing out a tired little sigh, "not so proverbial, no." At the very least he has a great deal more distance from it than the last time he had to explain. It's been more firmly relegated to a thing of the past, its only remnants the scar on John's throat and the occasional flashes Martin still suffers of the memory of walking into John's flat and finding him on the floor.

"Someone tried to kill him," he says, his voice lowering a bit. They aren't making a habit of telling anyone, but they trust Blue, and it's only their own poor capacity for keeping up with everyone to blame for her not having already learned. It's especially unfair given that she lives with Kat, so. He draws a breath that has only a faint tremble to it and amends, "Did kill him. And... he came back."

There's a great deal more to it than that, a great many questions she might ask, but he'd rather wait for those than just launch into it. He takes a long sip of his mimosa, now a bit comically unsuited for the discussion.

[formicine]

She blinks at that, face ready to move into real concern already, but did kill him gets a much more seriously alarmed and perplexed expression, her brow furrowing and eyes going wide. "He --"

"I need a stronger drink," she says, lifting a hand in stay right there and coming back with the dregs of her mimosa having been refilled into a screwdriver. She still sips it, but it at least feels more serious.

"Is that normal?" she hisses in an undertone. "I mean. Not people trying to kill him, him-- Well. Actually...Is that normal?"

It's selfish, but the first thing she thinks of is Kat, working for someone for whom people trying to kill them might be a common occurrence. It's quickly followed by all the horrific images of death and resurrection and being hunted she can conjure; how panicked Martin must have been, how horrible it must be to have known any of this without being able to tell it. She doesn't think it's unfair, anyway: Kat can't come back from the dead.

[loficharm]

He almost wants to ask her to get him one, but he resists, just letting her go while he stares down at his cocktail. When she returns she asks some rather salient questions and he shakes his head quickly.

"It—no," he says. "I mean, his recovery is just... part of his whole thing, the Eye... sort of protecting its assets, I suppose." He grimaces faintly at the clinical sound of that. "But the, erm, the killing isn't a usual thing, no. Not here. Back home it was a lot more dangerous, but this was just... it was a special case."

Not exactly comforting, and he's not sure how comforting he can be. Jacob Riggs is still out there, and he knows John is alive now. But they've got Daisy to keep John safe, and Martin can't imagine Riggs would go after anyone else. From what Martin could find out about him, he's historically been too smart for that.

Really, if anyone's put themself on the proverbial chopping block, it's him. But thinking about that makes his stomach drop, so he doesn't.

"We've got another friend from home who joined us a couple months ago," he says. "She's a lot, er, stronger than us. She's protecting John. And the rest of us by association." It's not a terribly broad leap to guess where the height of Blue's concern might lie, and he softens a bit as he says, "We won't let anything happen to Kat."

It seems appallingly stupid to make such a promise, not with the miserable track record of lost friends back home, but he does mean it. Things are different now. They've taken every possible step to ensure Kat and Eliot are kept on the periphery of their preexisting conditions, and with no real danger to speak of that doesn't exist outside their heads... it's fine. And Jacob Riggs will either make good on the arrangement John made, or Daisy will make some sort of lunchmeat out of him. It'll be fine.

[formicine]

Blue's not sure if that's good or not, that it's his -- patron, or whatever she's supposed to call some eldritch power that enjoys knowledge using him as a sort of straw, from what she gathers -- keeping him alive and not some individual ability. But it is better than it being out of nowhere and unexplainable, and it's much better than him being dead.

"A special case," she says, and sips the screwdriver. "Okay. Well, that's horrible. I'm glad it's safer here than home usually, but."

"Oh," she says at the news that they've got another friend here, and can't remember if she was told that. "That's -- that's good. I mean, that she's protecting you, but also, just to have someone from home. I assume?"

He picks out her particular area of concern and she flushes, just faintly. "Good. ...Kat probably won't let anything happen to herself, either," she adds, something of a reminder to herself, with a fond, slightly wry little smile. "Has she told you much about what she dealt with at home?"

[loficharm]

He nods to the remark about Daisy being good to have around. Not long ago he wouldn't have thought so, but... things have changed. He hasn't spent much time with her since she got him drunk, but that was a fun time, all things considered. And he's grateful to have her here.

Blue goes a bit pink at the mention of Kat, and Martin can't resist smiling into his drink, pleased he guessed correctly.

"Not much," he says. "We know it was... something, and it seems to have prepared her for all this, but we haven't pried." He's not sure if John is hoping she'll eventually give him her Statement, as Blue has, as Eliot has. It'll be left down to her, if that moment ever comes. "Not that I'd wish this kind of preparation on anyone, but it does help, at the same time. And you're right." He smiles rather fondly. "I don't think she would let anything happen to herself. And we don't intend to either."

[formicine]

He kind of smiles self-satisfiedly to himself when she blushes, and Blue makes a little wrinkled-nose face at him, embarrassed to be obvious. Not that Martin isn't, though she thinks there must have been some sort of conversation about that by now. Who knows; she gets the feeling, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything. She's taken a long time not saying anything with most of her crushes, and she's not sure that's ever going to change.

Blue nods, more serious. "It...if she hasn't said anything, it's not my place to tell," she says, carefully, "but she's lived through a lot. Here, too."

She smiles. "I'm glad. That you care, even if nothing does happen." She rubs her neck. "Are you doing okay, with -- all this?" It strikes her that this very well could be more distressing for Martin than it was for John.

[loficharm]

"Oh," he says, as though the concept of his wellness hadn't even occurred to him, and he looks down at himself as if there's anything telling to see. "I—I'm all right." It's not strictly a lie, but it's not very convincing either, and he smiles, a bit apologetic. "I mean, it... it was hard. It's been hard. But we're doing all right, I think."

It's been two months now; he still occasionally gets flashes of it, seeing John's body on the floor, uncomfortable and unpredictable little jolts now and then. And there's the more recent brush with Riggs, memories of which tend to prompt smaller waves of nausea over what could have happened, what might still happen. But it's all right. They're all right. He's trying to come round to the idea that it might actually stay that way.

"Nothing I can't handle," he amends quietly, taking a ponderous sip of his drink.

[formicine]

It's not a good impression of someone who's all right, but it's an attempt at normalcy, and she's been in that place enough -- perhaps not quite as apologetically, but still -- that she can't scold him for it.

She does notice that he says we the second time, though.

"Good," she says mildly, and adds, "Just -- if you need someone to talk to, I...it can be hard, and lonely, trying to get through things like that in your own head, especially if it feels like it's worse for someone else."

[loficharm]

He looks at her, faintly surprised at her assessment, though he shouldn't be. It's a fairly natural understanding; of course this sort of thing can be lonely. And it was obviously worse for John, so he's sure it's all too easy for someone as intuitive as Blue to recognize the need he feels to suppress his own hurts.

"Thank you," he says gently, giving her a soft smile. "I—I really appreciate that, Blue."

He huffs out a sigh like he's physically pushing all that aside, and says briskly, "But surely we can find something nicer to talk about while there's mimosas about. Does Kat know you're so worried about her?"

This is the sort of ambush Tim used to pull on him, and while he normally wouldn't dream of doing that to someone else, he is extremely eager to stop soaking in his own soupy emotions, and he hopes Blue will see this as the lighthearted poke it's intended to be, rather than some sort of interrogation. He also does have two and a half mimosas in him, to be fair. He can't resist grinning a bit.

[formicine]

She gives him a little nod, you're welcome without having to say it. And then laughs and rolls her eyes at him, when he asks about Kat.

"I...think she does," Blue says carefully. "I mean, I hope she knows that part," she adds with a little laugh, and ruffles her hair. "We...have both lost an awful lot of people," she confesses, and if it's a little apropos of nothing, it doesn't feel like it to her. Loss is, in one way or another, part of the foundation of their relationship. And at this point, it's like a vulture, patiently circling all the time.

She leans against the cabinet gently to take a sip of her mimosa. "Sometimes I'm not sure if I want her to know..." She glances at Martin, wry. "How much I worry," she says pointedly. "Or if it'd be easier if she just never does."

[loficharm]

Maybe it's odd, or even alarming, that her remark about she and Kat both having lost a lot of people doesn't even make him blink. The same is true of him and John. As connections go, it's not a bad one. In a lot of ways he feels like it might be the most important thing.

Her final remark is familiar too, and he draws a sharp, faintly hissing breath as he nods into his drink. "Ah," he says, matching her wry tone. "Yes. I... really, really understand that."

It's not quite the same. John certainly does know about his feelings. But Christ, it would definitely be easier if he didn't, or if they weren't there at all.

"But, er, why? If you don't mind my asking." He looks back at her. "Is it... how tenuous all this is?" He hasn't really dug deep, but she has mentioned lost friends and even exes before.

[formicine]

It's the sort of thing that Blue doesn't really want anyone else to relate to, even though it's nice to be understood, and she makes a face when he takes a hiss of a breath.

"Yes, sort of that," she says, and tries to formulate a way to say what she means. It's a little bit ridiculous, the way she feels about it. "And sort of me." She takes a slightly longer sip of mimosa.

"Do you remember when I was telling John about Henrietta, I said my family saw that I'd kill my true love when I kissed them?" She can't remember if Martin had wandered out during parts of it: she'd been very caught up in the storytelling of it. "It doesn't work that way here," she adds, with a little wave of her hand. "I'm not sure exactly how it happened at home, but it...did happen."

"I can kiss people; that's not the issue. But there have been a few people now who I've loved here who've died, or sent back to places where they will. And after a couple times -- and, I mean, being told your whole life that was going to happen -- it's hard not to feel like you're the problem."

She lifts a shoulder. "Maybe it's an excuse, but -- I can't even know."

[loficharm]

Martin does remember, and he nods thoughtfully as she explains, sobering a bit further. He hadn't thought of that, how difficult it must be with that always looming in the background. And it isn't just the tenuousness of this place, either, it's an ongoing history of loss that she's suffered, from the sound of things, far too much for how young she is.

He's quiet for a moment after she finishes, and then he reaches out and touches her arm gently, giving her what he hopes is a reassuring little squeeze.

"I'm sorry," he says. "That sounds awful. And... well. I've never been through anything quite like that, but I—I think I understand." He looks down at the floor briefly. "Thinking you're the problem, I mean. And... feeling like it's safer if you just... don't."

Really, he thinks John is a better candidate to understand that than he is; John, who tried so hard to push them all away, only to lose more and more of them anyway. Martin himself nearly included. But there's plenty of grief and self-recrimination between the two of them that it's not much a stretch to tell Blue he understands.

"You know, Kat kind of saved me," he says. "When I was... sort of relapsing, I suppose. You know, the day we met, when I was so... I'd spent months trying to kinda of make myself disappear. I felt like it was better if everyone forgot about me. Being here sort of threw all that off for a bit, and then back in October, I just... I fell back into it. It was hard not to. All these ideas about it just being better that way, that didn't really go away. And Kat's the one who woke me up. She said she knew what I was going through, and I didn't believe her at first, but... she did. A lot of people helped, but more than anyone, she's the reason I came out of it enough to... to find John, when he was..." He shrugs, not wanting to dip back into that. "The point is, Kat's a good person, we both know that. And we both know she's strong. And... I just think that if she knew you were keeping this at bay for her sake, well... she wouldn't want you to."

It feels a bit hypocritical, giving this kind of advice when he'd just moments ago been trying very hard to get Michael to stop giving him this kind of advice. But, well, Blue probably has a better shot at this than he does, and for Christ's sake, someone around here deserves to get what they want.

[formicine]

The touch is reassuring, and she manages a grateful, if terse, little smile, leaning into the touch, and nodding as he looks down. Martin sort of gives off insecurity along with caring, and it's easy to believe he's thought of himself as the problem before. Blue likes to think of herself as someone who projects confidence, or at least stubbornness if she can't have the former, but when it comes to this she's had her determination hacked at a little too often.

She looks up as he goes on, brow furrowing. Kat had maybe mentioned Martin worrying her, but she's never heard the story from Martin's point of view, and she finds herself swallowing against a lump in her throat from Kat saved me onward, her eyes fixed.

It's a mix: fierce pride in Kat for being both kind and persuasive enough to pull Martin back from the darkness; a deep painful dislike that either Martin or Kat have hurt like that even if it's not currently the case; shame at thinking so much about her own grief when Kat's been through so much; maybe a million other things. She takes it in, nodding.

"She probably wouldn't," Blue admits with a soft laugh at her own expense, and she ruffles her hair, still curly from the sea fog of last night. "She is good, and she's so strong, and she's survived -- so much. And she'd hate it." She can't help smirking. "I mean, I don't even know if she -- what she wants, but she'd hate me making decisions because I thought I knew what was best for her."

She takes a breath. "It's just hard to tell myself nothing's going to happen to her. And if something did--" She lets out a breath. Blue doesn't handle grief sensibly: she nearly fell off a fucking fire escape, that night Tris and Biffy and Lyall and Beth all disappeared at once, and she set Party Poison's car on fire when he and Jack disappeared. But through that, through losing them, Olive and Eduardo, Krem, even Gansey, Kat has always been there with hugs and food and sometimes alcohol, there for Blue's anger and tears. Happily around for weird wishes that turn their apartment into an actual rainforest and totally benign shopping trips that become hilarious because they're them and increasing numbers of other people's animals. It's hard to imagine what life would even be like without her.

[loficharm]

Martin keeps his hand on her arm and his eyes on her as she answers, attentive and gently sympathetic as she trails off. She agrees with his assessment, but it isn't quite that easy, and even without her finishing the implied thought, he thinks he understands.

"Yeah," he says softly, and finally pulls his hand away. "I understand."

He knows he's lucky, in a warped sort of way, that John can survive so much. It's luck that comes at a terrible cost, a gift horse that ought not be trusted. But after having lost so many people and consigned himself to losing just about everyone, it's hard not to feel a certain security over John's... hardiness, for lack of a better word. Blue may have a shot with Kat that he doesn't have with John, but she doesn't have that security.

Digging into it any deeper probably won't help matters, and he has no desire to darken their moods any further at what is meant to be a fun occasion. He glances back toward the drink table and offers Blue a faint smile. "Maybe we should get more of this in us and see if we can't lighten up a bit. There'll be plenty of time to worry when we don't have access to mimosas."

[I'd be good wrapping here if that works for you! Let's let these kiddos drink and lighten our collective loads. ❤︎]