My Kingdom For A Vagina

Title: My Kingdom For A Vagina
Time Period: January 13, 135 A.E.
Characters Appearing:

Summary: Fire purges everything bad and ugly, except the thing that needs it most.

"Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary…"

The soft voice drifts partway down the stairs, turning to a dull murmur at the bottom. It's cold in the staircase, the small window frosted over with a glittering pattern of ice. The door at the top is closed, a small glow of orange underneath the door gives the impression that the occupant has lit a fire. Hopefully in the fireplace.

"You know," Luna continues, her audience a marten on the bed and a bottle in her hand, she's mostly talking to the bottle. "I have never seen a copy of that poem with my own eyes, I know it off by heart though, I used to practice it all the time."

She pirouettes across the room and lands on the bed, causing the small animal to bounce. An offer of the bottle to Darklight is given before she retracts it with a giggle and a shake of her head. "Silly, you don't drink."

Mariah doesn't know exactly what happened up those stairs just a bit earlier, but she knows it wasn't good. Having seen the state Beisdean left in, she's a little worried about what she'll find beyond that door. With Luna, it could be anything.

She herself hasn't had a boring night, either, if the split lip and bruises are anything to judge by. Easily attributed to one of her regulars getting a little excited, at least before the rumors start making the rounds around the Dovetail. But she must be alright, because she knocks heavily on the door, carrying a basket of cookies and sweets with her.

"Luna?"

The marten makes its small tch sound at the offer before bounding from bed to bedside table to window to peer outside, standing up on its backlegs with its forepaws on the sill and nose pressed against the glass. Perhaps Darklight senses his master is leaving or perhaps he is asking to go out, as Beisdean usually lets him come and go via wings and windows.

When Mariah knocks, though, he turns, and hops back onto the bed, keen to listen maybe to whatever gossip may come.

"Who is it?" The question is sung toward the door as Luna rolls off the bed and pads toward the fireplace. The dress, undergarments, blanket, sheets, and even boots are stoked with the metal pick, perhaps the real reason that the marten wants out. The possibility of noxious fumes.

"I can't open the window, Darklight, there's something out there that watches… You'll have to leave through the door." Sure enough, there are noseprints on the other side of the glass, much larger than that of the marten.

"Your fairy godmother. Who do you think?" Mariah says, but not unkindly. More like she's just trying to sound normal. "I've brought something up, something sweet." It may be a dangled carrot. But she doesn't try to open the door herself, not without permission.

Darklight tchs again, then looks at the door, then back to Luna, then back to the door. He likes sweets, too.

"I don't have a fairy godmother!"

The yell through the door is followed by a squeak of mattress springs as Luna jumps back on the bed with her bottle. "I don't have a fairy godmother," she whispers for the marten's ears only. There's a bit of concern in her voice, probably due to the sheer amount of alcohol she's imbibed since waking again. "Darklight, you open the door, I'll hide in the wardrobe."

She doesn't, because after careful consideration, she might not fit. It's full of more clothes to burn.

There's a pause outside the door, just a moment for Mariah to debate the wisdom of letting herself in. In the end, worry wins out and her hand reaches out to slide the door open. After all, that fire might not be in the fireplace.

"It's just me," she says as she peeks inside, casting a quick glance around, just to be sure. When she steps in, she leaves the door open behind her, just a few inches. Whether that's for Darklight's benefit or in case of the need of a hasty retreat is anyone's guess. "They've been making cookies downstairs, I thought I'd bring some up before Florentine eats them all." She's not usually the unkind one where the other girls are concerned, but tonight she's making an exception.

Luna receives a cocked head from Darklight at the suggestion the marten open the door, but when Mariah comes in, the little creature stands up on its back legs again, his little nose twitching at the scent of sweets.

Liar.

Luna sits up on the stripped mattress and tips her bottle to her lips for a few large gulps. A thin line of liquid trickles from the corner of her mouth but she wipes her chin on her shoulder, catching a bunch of hair instead. "You're not even part fae, why would you say something like that?" Luna's tone is admonishing, a little perturbed, and even a bit afraid. "You know, they could steal you away in the night lying about them. I've heard tell that it's happened a time or two. Children disappear and no one knows a thing!"

After taking yet another drink from her bottle, she leans back against the wall and rests it in her lap. Her eyes pass over the shambles that her room has turned into. Half cleaned up sick, beads of glass, a fire that's mostly in the fireplace…

"Well, I'm hardly a child by anyone's standards these days," Mariah says as she steps over to crouch by Darklight, "And I think the Fae know how to take a joke." A cookie is slipped out of the basket, and she breaks it into a few chunks for the familiar. And while he does get a worried look, when she stands up to come join Luna, she's got her smile back again.

"Having a bit of a bonfire, are we?" The basket is set down between them and the cloth covering the treats within pulled back. There are no questions like how much of that have you had or any admonishments from her end, but then… perhaps she can guess by the state of things.

"Tch." Is likely Martenese for Thank You, and Darklight settles down to nibble at the cookie pieces, glancing now and then at the fire and then at the two women. He expects to be shooed away at any moment, but plans to finish eating the treat first.

"Everything here is unclean," is Luna's explanation for the current bout of madness. She doesn't take a cookie, instead she offers the bottle of grain alcohol to her friend. "What happened to your face? Did he get you too?" She doesn't explain who, but shuffles over to give the other woman a little room on the bed. The part that isn't soggy and stained from wine.

The flicker of light from the fireplace reflects off the blonde's face, the shadows making her look older and more haggard for her years. "Ma' said I could come back," she murmurs, turning to look at the frosty glass. "I can't now though, can I…"

Mariah's expression turns more sympathetic as Luna replies, and she reaches a hand over to touch her softly on the arm. "Not everything, Luna," she says, although she doesn't really expect the nuances of her statement to be grasped at this particular moment. Subconsciously, when her face is mentioned, her tongue slips briefly over the cut, but she shakes her head, "I'll tell you all about it later. Wasn't him, though." Whoever him is.

The news comes as a surprise and Mariah blinks a bit before she can get out a proper reply. "Shh, Luna," she says, her arm slipping around the blonde, for comfort, "Forget about can and can't. Where do you want to be?"

"I think I want to be like the mermaid from that story, foam on the waves." Her voice sounds a little off and distant. The bottle is put down in favor of wrapping her arms around the other woman's waist and nestling a flaxen head on her shoulder. "I tried to be perfect today and it all fell apart again. I think the gods are playing tricks with me, like I'm a tiny little piece on a game board and I can't control anything."

The fire dims down a little, in want of more clothing and linens to keep it going, or maybe just wood. Thick black smoke from the boots coils up into the chimney, thankfully not sending its stench into the room.

"I think you're on your way there," Mariah says, with a nod to the bottle. She pets Luna's hair, though, when she lays against her, an almost motherly gesture. "They're cruel in that way, playing games with us all. But Luna… you don't need to try to be perfect. Just try to be you. Perfect is for the flowers. Waterfalls. The stars."

Her gaze lingers on the fire, or perhaps the remnants of an ill fated evening within. "Do you want to come stay in my room tonight?"

"No, I think I want to go walking, if I can find something to wear." Glancing at the wardrobe, Luna frowns deeply and presses her lips into a thin line before swallowing. "I'm sorry about before, you can have all of her dresses. I don't want them anymore. You can take the painting too… just put it away… and the necklace, the ribbon one in the box." One of her most cherished possessions.

"She threw herself into the ocean, you know, because she loved the prince so much she didn't want to spoil his life." A long sigh is let loose before Luna lifts her head again and stares at Mariah. "I could run away, I could go to the continent and see if she's still there, the statue. I bet she's the prettiest thing."

"It's alright. Luna, it's alright. Her things — that's not what's important." Mariah doesn't explain what is important, though. When she goes on about the fairy tale, Mariah lifts an eyebrow a bit. "Yes, it's all very romantic and tragic. But I'm not sure she's entirely the best role model. She did give up her family and her kingdom for a vagina and a man she didn't know. Not entirely well thought out."

She looks back at Luna, lips tugged into a frown. Her hand moves from her hair to her face there, and she furrows her brow, "You can't run away and leave me here alone, Luna. Who would I try on dresses with and gossip about the other girls with, hmm?" It's a playful protest, on the surface, but her expression is more troubled than her tone.

"Whatever could be more important than things? Everyone wants things. I wager if I yelled down those stairs that everything in this room was free for the taking, I'd be left a pauper and no one would look back to see what was left of me." There's a long sigh at the end of the drunken realization and Luna punctuates it with a small laugh. "I am that mermaid, you know, I gave up my family and kingdom for a vagina and men. And drink." There's a slight pause. "And herbs."

Watching the marten eat, she lowers her head in shame. "I need to run away, Mariah, I feel suffocated here. Everything is too small for me. Even the ideas here, they're so small. You could come with me? We'd have a grand adventure, we could start our own trading company or something of the like."

"Not no one, Luna. And I definitely wouldn't let you give away all your things on a drunken whim. You'd regret it tomorrow morning." Mariah's smile at that revelation is a little sad, but it's still there, recognizing the irony. "I suppose you are. But you have the ability to go back to it without turning into sea foam. So there's that."

She wraps her arms back around Luna as she goes on, though, her smile fading just a bit. "Well, I couldn't let you run off on your own, could I? But I hate to be the one to burst your bubble, luv, the ideas are small everywhere." Her hold tightens for a moment, a squeeze before she moves to stand up from the bed, and dragging Luna with her. "Come on. We can plan adventures in the morning," she says, and while it isn't obvious to the ear, her voice begins to lull Luna slowly into a sleep. One Mariah believes she's in obvious need of.