[P] Linger

[Marisol]

there will be singing
about the dark times.

Perhaps their court is about to fall apart. Perhaps it already is—it does not seem quite right, that two of its figureheads are carnivorous kelpies, and the third a pyromaniac. Often Marisol wonders how she has changed. If she is still capable of anything that could pass for leadership. Recently, life feels overwhelmingly like an endless circle of excuses for violence; and it would be impossible to deny she is spinning that wheel, too, with every spar on the steppe or moral weight she holds over the cadets’ heads. 

But this is all impossible to think about when she is so pleasantly distracted by Andi, who plays all the right cards and smiles just the right way to turn Marisol’s heart away from becoming somber. Even better (maybe worse) than the emissary’s sharp, clean smile is the expression that comes over her when Mari concedes to allow her sisters in: for the first time that she can remember, Anandi looks genuinely pleased, not just satisfied. Her storm-grey cheeks are suddenly rose-flushed. Her green eyes go bright; when she laughs, just a little, Marisol can’t help feeling like she’s witnessing something she isn’t supposed to.

Still. Still the Commander can’t find it in herself to lean away when Andi presses that kiss to her cheek; and she can’t find the will to chastise her, either. Instead Mari bears the touch with careful grace, and when they separate finally reaches back to crack open a window. In rushes a wall of bitingly cold air. Despite herself, Mari flinches as the salty breeze digs its teeth into her skin and rustles the short hairs of her mane, half-surprised and half-relieved by the way it seems to snap her back to reality.

I was planning on visiting Denocte first. Marisol’s gray eyes narrow imperceptibly. It is an interesting choice, though she cannot rightfully say it is the wrong one; having already visited Ipomoea, and knowing Orestes firsthand, the Night Court’s new queen is the largest unknown variable. And yet she cannot help wondering if Anandi has some ulterior motive. A girlfriend to visit? A sister to seek out? Denocte is a carnival, a bacchanal. Nothing good, Mari thinks grimly, ever comes from Denocte.

But it presents the biggest potential risk for them, the possibility of a biggest loss or gain. Even she understands that, as painful as it is to admit—and oh, it is quite painful. “Wise,” comes Marisol’s thoughtful (if clipped) response, and she manages not to respond to the flick of Anandi’s eyes toward the desk except for what might be the flash of a smile. “Take Israfel with you when you go. Unless that would be an issue for you?”

Some part of her wants Anandi to say yes.

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