[ march / open ] you left me, you left me no choice but to stay here forever

[princessvegas]

Who: Julie + others + open
When: March
What: this month is A Lot (this post is a catchall)
Where: Cadens + the Horizon

[ bitchcraft or bitchcraft#2753 for a starter ]

Comments

[ horizon, early march, close cr only ]

[princessvegas]

[ When Julie went to sleep after Nadine's birthday party, it was really the last thing she would ever thought she might wake up to. Nadine's pale face, her broken voice. I can't find Lloyd, she'd muttered.

Julie had scoffed, made a joke. How's that a problem?

There wasn't a response. Just a silent stare, Nadine's mouth still open like a dead fish's, like she was trying to find something to say but coming up empty.

He's probably just out gettin' something. Breakfast. Even as she said it, Julie could feel herself grasping at straws. Scrambling for an excuse.

Nadine didn't answer.

Anger flared in Julie's eyes. Did you even check the Horizon, Nadine? If he ain't here, he's there. It didn't matter that his body was nowhere to be seen, that he would be easily found if he were only gone on the astral plane.

With a deep breath, as if to steel herself, Nadine had reached out slightly with a trembling hand. Julie --, she'd started to say, but was cut off as Julie began to speak over her, voice hard and the words coming too fast. They weren't kind ones; they were accusatory, full of venom, towards both Nadine and Lloyd himself. That they were idiots, how do you lose a whole person, I have to do everything myself around here, because if Nadine would only go and check in the Horizon, in the Inferno, she'd see.

There was a shift. Julie could feel it inside herself, and she'd abruptly stopped talking, turned and walked away. Back to her room. It was like walking through a dream, getting from one end of the hall to the other. She'd gently closed the bedroom door behind herself, climbed back into bed. Drew the covers back up around herself and closed her eyes.

When she opened them again, she was right back where she'd been only half an hour ago, in her bedroom in the loft. There was some sense of purpose in the way she walked downstairs, across the club. It was barely ten in the morning, and still the partiers filled the dance floor, still Steven-the-bartender was pouring drinks. The remnants of Nadine's party, the confetti and empty glasses, had yet to be cleaned up. The music should be pounding, but to Julie, it sounded strangely distant.

She went behind the bar, reached for the door handle that links her club to Lloyd's Inferno. She never got rid of the door, not even in the peak of her anger at him. They always had access to each other with one push. Now there was no handle, no door. Her hand grazed only the wall, the feeling of her own fingers alien and cold.

Trancelike, she walked outside, went around the edge of her building where it should touch his, and there was nothing there. Just blank, empty space where there should be a whole casino, another playground of lights and music to match her own. But now it was as if she'd dreamt the whole thing.

A faint voice in her head said something, but she couldn't hear it. From outside of her body, she watched herself slowly turn and go back inside, face a blank mask. Moved through the crowd as if through water -- the people she made always parted for her like the Red Sea for Moses, but now she felt like a ghost, simply walking through them. She climbed the stairs to the loft, laid down on the lush green velvet of the sofa in the main sitting room. She blinked up at the ceiling, watching light reflect off the crystals in the chandelier.

And she stayed like that for nine hours. Still, silent. Observing herself from across the room, almost from above.

Somewhere around the tenth hour, she managed to move a little. To sit lotus-style on the floor, her back still against the couch. She looked at nothing for a few minutes, her eyes unfocused. She felt like a marionette as she rose, walked outside onto the balcony. Like someone else was in her head, driving her body, and she had no say; all she could do was watch. She took a seat in one of the wicker egg-shaped chairs, one tucked into a corner pocket of greenery and plants, near the jacuzzi. She could turn her head and see down into the club.

Instead, she just sat there. For another two days.

It's not like last time. Everything downstairs remains the same, the people and the lights and the music. The only difference is that the door to the loft won't open for most, won't allow them up the stairs. Even people that Julie trusts, loves, the ones who can get into her personal space, will find themselves stopped. Albeit by a unicorn with the size and attitude of a chihuahua, but he will stamp his hooves and try to shield her anyway.

Julie just sits. Blinks. Rests her head against the frame of the chair.

Every so often, she finds herself with raised hands, and it's like she has no choice. Her body is working against her mind, still stuck on the outside looking in, like muscle memory being triggered. The last time she was sad, she'd spent nearly all of her time practicing magic. Hours and hours a day, for weeks on end.

She had not been this sad.

Now, kaleidoscopes of butterflies, all shaped from fire, flutter from the corner of the balcony, dissipate over the dance floor. Schools of flaming koi do the same, glide their way through the air until the last embers disappear mid-swim. Mindless magic, done because she is doing nothing else and her body does not know how to stay still.

There's no active attempt to avoid people. Julie is simply... not home, even as she sits on the balcony, watches herself watch the water in the pool gently ripple.

The empty warehouse seems to echo especially loud now. ]

[falcony]

[ when sam steps through the front doors to julie's club, it takes him a second to get situated. he knows why he is here, which is why the people dancing and the lights moving and the music, still going, feels more off than anything else. he's seen julie's domain in all its forms, from the raging parties to the empty holiday halls. he knows how the rooms can reflect her moods. knows that, at a first glance, this might make it seem like there's not much at all to worry about. but he knows better, and that is what leads him through the crowd and the door to the loft. up the stairs, and passed the protective, angry, still-kind-of-terrifying tiny unicorn who stomps his hooves and tries to stop him from that last step.

it doesn't stop him - there's very little that would - and as sam steps around the chihuanicorn and into the loft, he pauses just for long enough to knock on the doorframe. it's a poor attempt at trying to make this less of a I'm coming in and more of a anyone home? but it falls flat. and part of sam knew it would.

the main room of the loft is empty, but it doesn't take long for sam to find the door open to the balcony. to walk across the sitting area and out into the plants, next to the jacuzzi. he walks out and considers calling to her, considers asking to see if she'll turn, if she'll want to stand, even to give her the chance to tell him to fuck off. except that sam knows he wouldn't listen if she did, knows that whatever it is he'd say wouldn't be of help.

so instead, sam just walks - moving to stand in front of the chair and to catch sight of julie, hollow-eyed and distant - staring off down into the club. he tilts his head a bit to get her to look at him, a small, sad smile on his face when he finally speaks. ]

Hey, beautiful. [ it's a very gentle, fond sort of endearment - heavy, in a way, as they both know what he's here. full of the same worry in his eyes for her that he's come in here with before. ] Can I sit?

[princessvegas]

[ At this point, she's been sitting in the same spot for more than two days. The only movements she's made have been intermittent bursts of magic that are more reflexive than intentional -- either she shapes the magic, or else it will shape itself, and that usually ends poorly. But she can't see it from her own eyes, can't feel the magic become pliant and bend under her direction. It's all like someone else is doing it, someone who looks just like her but isn't.

Julie is across the balcony, curled in a ball, watching. She has been, the whole time. She can't cry or scream or speak. Only watch the not-Julie do the same, sit immobile in silence, her eyes cast over the club, over the water, over nothing because she's not really seeing any of that. Real Julie doesn't see them either. It's like being wrapped in fog on both sides, with the real barely able to sense the fake just a few feet away.

There is movement and both Julies watch Sam cross, chased the whole while by Baron, who squeals in anger and furiously paws the ground next to Sam's feet before he leaps into the chair to sit next to not-Julie. The way she looks at Sam is blank, only the barest flicker of recognition in her eyes. She wants to say something. They both do. But what is there to say when you don't have a voice anymore? When you've been knocked out of your own body?

She manages a jerky nod, a muffled word. ] Yeah.

[falcony]

[ grief really is something of a marvel, in and of itself. the way it can take up an entire space, push the air from their lungs, take and hold and refuse to give back any sense of how to function, how to speak. sam's felt it himself a few times, and seen it in others plenty more. and whether or not it makes any of this easier, he - at the very least - doesn't shy away from it.

she does look over to him when he crosses the space, but by the time he's close enough to her, he can tell she's not all there. or, not that she's not there, more so that there's something else there taking up her space. baron is very obviously not happy with his presence here, but sam pays him very little mind, waiting for julie to give him an answer one way or another.

when she does manage that jerky nod, her muffled agreement, sam nods and moves to the opposite side that baron has chosen, sliding into the seat with her. the chair is definitely big enough for two people, but there is very little space left, and it leaves them with their shoulders pressed together. there's an urge to reach for her hand, or just to put his arm around her shoulders, or find any combination of comfort he could give with physical touch alone - but he waits for a moment, first. checking. ]

You've got quite the bodyguard.

[ if there's any hint - anything at all - he's going to be a lot pushier about it. but for now he just waits, turning his hand over on his thigh, palm up. ]

[princessvegas]

[ She hadn't even known she still had the capacity for grief like this. But, retrospectively, she never had the chance to grieve at all, for anything that happened to her -- when she watched every single person she ever knew slowly suffocating to death, she didn't have time to process it, because she had to focus on surviving. On not going insane in the loneliness after, on walking across the country, on filling a role in the new society that let her ignore it all. And then she was here, in Abraxas, and there was always something else to focus on.

But Lloyd... Lloyd had been there since the minute they brought her into Vegas. He was there when she died, he was there in the dungeons, he was with her until he suddenly wasn't. The only stability she'd had for over a year. It never mattered that it was a strange, tangled relationship, that he often annoyed her or made things worse. He was still there. Here. And now he's gone, but he's not just gone, he's gone, because he is dead like she is dead. There was never any going back. Their lives depended on them staying in this world.

And he didn't stay.

Sam sits, and Julie seems to somehow curl into herself even more, as if to create more room by making herself as small as possible. She looks at his open palm, then at his face, and she doesn't say anything because she doesn't have a voice. Her expression doesn't change at all, but she blinks and there are tears streaming down her face on both sides. She can feel them, physically. She can see them, from where she sits across from herself. They're another thing outside of her control, though, just another thing that seems to be happening no matter what she wants. ]

[falcony]

[ he knows how that goes - the number of people who don't give themselves that time, or - for a lot of cases - aren't given that time. he knows enough about julie's life, about her home, that he can make as much of an assumption as necessary. that julie's never really been allowed time. that she's never really slowed down enough to process. that now, when there isn't anywhere to go or anyone else to worry about, it feels a bit like the water is just rising and rising all around.

which means that sam takes this slow. he moves, slow, to sit down next to her. doesn't react when she seems to pull away. the open palm is an invitation, above all else, and he is patient as she looks at it. as she looks from it, to sam. he doesn't know exactly when it is she starts crying, but between one moment and the next he can see them.

part of his heart splits, at that. watching the tears on her cheeks for just a moment before he finally lets out a breath and releases any possible tension there had been in him during his waiting. ]

I'm sorry. [ he says, softly, before he's turning and reaching for her. slowly moving his arms over to pull her into a hug. he's not entirely sure what he'd do if she tried to pull away from him, but he's willing to face that when it happens, if only because the blank expression she holds onto is killing him, just a little bit. ]

[cointosser]

[Like his own domain had become, the feeling of the air is nearly choking. The sort of environment that does not so much demand that one leave, but rather firmly, perhaps a broom for beating in hand, saying, you probably wish not to be here.

Of course, it's still a club. There's still dancing, and music, and drinks. He pauses by the bar, by the bartender he'd met once again during Nadine's party and attempted to kiss, just for fun -- just to see what it felt like to kiss someone else's dream.

He lingers, thinking that perhaps he will need a drink. After a moment, he decides against it. Unlike with Nadine, he understands what he's stepping into here. Which, considering he can look up and see trailing animals of fire, might be a bit safer.

Jaskier is in plainclothes, only a chemise with no doublet. Not even a hat. His boots nearly take out the unicorn, but it gives him a fierce throw of its head that he finds absolutely precious.] Now I know you're working hard to protect her, little one, but I won't be bullied by my own gift. Run along.

[To be honest, he's still a bit surprised to find the door opens. Not exactly happily so, with a creak and the annoyed whinnies of the unicorn behind him, out into a large room with a lovely woman in the center of it who looks about a step past catatonic.

He takes a step towards her, lowering his hand to her shoulder. In case she didn't notice his entrance.] The fish were lovely. In particular, I mean. I can't imagine the fluidity of the movements is easy.

[He takes a seat beside her. Jaskier does not consider himself particularly good at this, but he can't think of... leaving. Not yet. Not unless Julie really, truly needs to be alone.]

[princessvegas]

[ It can be noted that Steven-the-bartender is as pleasant and welcoming as ever, but does not show any indication that he recalls being kissed. This is only because Julie doesn't know it happened. If she ever finds out, Steven will most likely become really into having a fling, but for the moment, he shows no recollection.

Duke, on the other hand, does show some regard to Jaskier; after his foiled attempt at guarding, he moves aside, though there are still a lot of angry horse noises and the sound of hooves irritably pawing the ground as Jaskier passes. On a nearby shelf, a similarly sized dragon and t-rex echo the sentiment, pacing as they watch someone get past the unicorn. They don't have free reign of the domain like Duke, though, so they stay in their place.

In the sitting room, Julie sits on the huge, plush couch, curled in a ball with her arms wrapped around her shins. She doesn't appear to have even changed into anything more comfortable than her club clothes -- the only indication that she's been here for a while is the fact that her shoes remain on the floor directly in front of her, slipped off before she drew her legs up.

Jaskier touches her shoulder and she doesn't startle, doesn't really have a reaction at all except to turn her head slightly. Her eyes are hollow when she looks at him, barely express that she even recognizes him. She does, of course; the invisible, conscious Julie several feet away watches, wants to scream that she's not in there, she doesn't know how to get back in to answer him.

She makes a vague noise of acknowledgment, thanks, but she can't talk about the fish, the butterflies, even if she wanted to. She's not doing it with any thought, she's just shaping the magic that's going to burst out violently otherwise. ]

[cointosser]

[He's really going to have to ask what the strange, two-legged lizard thing is. Eventually.

It isn't important now. Neither are the other creatures which seem very upset with him (join in line.) He's quite worried that Julie appears to be rather... unresponsive, and though it tightens like a fist around his heart, he sits beside her instead of running off.

He was mistaken. Knowing what he was walking into did not help much so far.

Their shoulders brush, and he watches her, putting a hand on her arm. Rests it there.] I'm sure you realize I've heard what happened. You've been in here for quite a while, haven't you? Not that I blame you.

[A place to be alone, but alternatively, a place to escape to. To control.] Not that I make a habit of coming into people's personal places and commenting on their dress -- all right, is isn't exactly the first time, but that's neither here nor there -- wouldn't you rather be in something a bit more comfortable? What do you call them? Ah... pajamas?

[He's still learning on modern conveniences. And lingerie. It simply migrated to the concept of comfort, which he agrees is much better than smallclothes.

Luckily, it doesn't matter if she speaks or not. She needn't if she can't, or doesn't want to. He can fill the silence alone.]

[princessvegas]

[ Do not give her an opportunity to manifest a brachiosaurus, Jaskier. She absolutely will do it, just ask Geralt where that t-rex actually came from and how big it originally was.

Julie turns blank eyes to his hand on her arm, like it's something foreign. Not unwelcome, simply foreign. It isn't, she knows that, but it feels so distant, like he's touching blankets on top of her instead of her skin. Everything feels like that, as if it's only happening to her through layers of insulation. Words, movements, touch, it all feels so far away and yet it's right here.

When she looks back at him, it is with something so broken and adrift reflected in her gaze, searching in his face like he might have answers for her. He doesn't, she knows. He can't. Jaskier doesn't even know the truth, or at least she doesn't believe he knows -- that they are all dead, all three of them, that the Vegas they speak of no longer exists, and that if they aren't in Abraxas, then they aren't anywhere. It's not like him, there is no going back. They will never wake up with new memories, only the repeated nightmares of what has already happened. Flagg was different, none of them were even sure he could die (hell, he had never even seemed very sure, when he told them stories of things from hundreds of years ago), but the three of them, Julie, Lloyd and Nadine... they were all dead until they were pulled out of that well. They'd somehow gotten a third chance.

And now Lloyd is gone. His chance is gone. What does that mean for her and Nadine?

Her expression doesn't change at all, but when she nods, her eyes have begun to sparkle in the corners, tears that she never expresses because she has been able to ignore all of this information until now. Was able to close it away in a box in her mind, not to be addressed. She hadn't thought it was something she would have to deal with, because how could she ever do that anyway? What was there to be done?

Every inch of her trembles. ]

[cointosser]

[He doesn't expect much response, but that he gets nothing -- almost literally nothing -- is beginning to scare him a little. He doesn't move his hand from her, though her gaze is unnerving. If he had the concept of zombie, then surely that is how he'd describe her.

Gods. He's not sure what to do. It makes more sense to him that she should cry, or scream, or rage. Destroy things. Create them only to smother them. Or drink. Drink, or smoke, until nothing matters anymore.

The latter has never helped.

What had he done for the elves? He was hardly with them long enough beyond holding their hands, or hiding their eyes from a few Nilfgaardian soldiers kicking a corpse into the ground. So he takes her hand and watches her, until the tears finally make their way out.

A sign she has not completely blacked out.]

I know. [He pulls an embroidered, patterned handkerchief from his pocket, ready to dab her cheeks.] I don't know what I can tell you. But I want you to know I'm here, all the same.

a little after sam.

[gynvael]

[ As is typical, Geralt isn't in Cadens when all this occurs. He hears through Sam instead, a message scrawled on the desert sand. He stares at it for a moment. He and Lloyd are not familiar in the same way he is with Nadine and Julie, but it doesn't matter. The other man has been a fixture for as long as he's known them both. He understands what the loss means.

The desert is not the safest place to enter the Horizon. He does it, anyway, finding cave he can seal himself inside. Is Julie in the Horizon? She often is—even the times he doesn't let her know he's coming, he can usually find her in her club—but right now, it's hard to say. He treks across the crater filled with its amalgamation of rising structures. Finds her club where it is. When he discovers the wolf following alongside him—unintentional and yet not—he decides to let it come. He knows the value of an animal companion. And really, it's as much a part of him as anything.

The crowd is there still. He shoulders through them and makes his way upstairs: a familiar path where, for the first time, he finds an obstruction standing before him. He looks down at the unicorn. It pokes his leg with its horn and stamps its small hooves.

He knocks on the door once, to announce his presence. Unicorn ignored by both white wolves, Geralt nudges the door open: careful, to see if it even will open. It does. A pause, before he takes a step inside. The wolf approaches first, curling up by her feet.

There's not much to say, so he doesn't. He touches her shoulder, quiet—a short pause, as though to see if he'll get a reaction. If there's no response, he will sit with her by her chair, tucked within the green foliage as though it might swallow her whole. Doesn't he know the desire well. ]

[princessvegas]

[ Sam had succeeded in some small ways; she is not necessarily much more responsive but she is more reactive, more inside her own head than she was before. At the very least, she feels less like she's been fully split into two beings, her mind and her body separated. Now she is somewhere in between, able to control herself even if she's still sort of watching from the outside.

His knock goes unanswered, because she doesn't care enough about the presence of others to make the effort. Well, less that she doesn't care and more that she doesn't have it in her to call out either way. She doesn't consciously know that the building itself is keeping out anyone she doesn't trust, that only a handful of people can get in, but it wouldn't surprise her. She's beginning to understand that the Horizon itself is willing to protect her, to work in tandem with her mind and her emotions.

The wolf comes to her and she slides her toes under the fringe of its fur, the warmth of its skin. It reminds her of when she was a child, when the various dogs her family went through over her life would sleep atop her feet while her parents fought in the other room. Geralt doesn't startle her like he sometimes does, and it's not just because the wolf preceded him; it's simply that the list of people she wants near her is short, and most of them have already been by.

When he puts his hand on her shoulder, she looks up at him, the turn of her head slightly stilted as if her neck is stuck. When she actually meets his eyes, hers are wide and lost, shiny. She still doesn't have any words. ]

this is 100% my first time posting this comment

[gynvael]

[ Last time he came by after Susan vanished, the air was heavy. Now it's sinking, suffocating, and yet intimately familiar in its weight. He's spent his life around people grieving unspeakable losses: those close to him, but strangers, too, when he steps into a village to find what monster has been killing their loved ones. Spent it grieving his own. It isn't easy—it never is—but it doesn't leave him uncomfortable, hesitant, the way it might be for someone else. He's learned to sit with it.

She turns to him, and he crouches down beside her. He gently takes her hand. All he says is, ] I understand.

[ Because he does, whatever it is she might want to say and can't. She doesn't have to explain or tell him how she's feeling. He understands, he knows in his own way, even if he cannot know the precise edges of it. It's different for everyone, but at the same time, it isn't, the way deepest hurts hollow you out. It's hard to lose everything; it is harder still to find the courage to rebuild and then feel it crumble all over again. He's rebuilt so many times, he's not certain if he's ever stopped.

He lets the silence fall. He settles next to her. There are swirls of colourful fish and butterflies, shimmering. It's the first time he's really taken note of them. His attention was on her when he first came in; he studies them now, how the magic hums. He's never pulled on the Horizon's creation power to make displays, but he does so now—releasing a small flaming horse that joins her circling school of fish. ]

absolutely i never saw anything to indicate otherwise

[princessvegas]

[ Susan had brought grief, but it was almost selfish in the sense that Julie turned that grief into her fear of abandonment, of being left alone. And Susan's disappearance had been poor timing, coincided with a fight she was having with all of them.

But Lloyd, Lloyd has not become about her, not yet. Lloyd was stability when she had none, Lloyd was loyal devotion even when she spurned him, Lloyd was the safety net. And unlike Susan, Julie has seen his end. Or close enough, at least, enough to know that he is being doomed in the cruelest way. The three of them, Lloyd and Nadine and herself, they were dependent on the Singularity to keep them alive. Even if Vegas ended better, what were they really going back to? The death throes of humanity swiping at each other? Slow starvation as supplies depleted? No, it's Abraxas or nothing for them.

And now, he's not here. He's not here and he was always here and she can't get him back.

Geralt takes her hand and it is the most she has felt anything since she came in here, sealed herself up in the loft. That's really not saying much, but it at least feels like he is touching her skin, rather than touching her through layers of cloth or bubble wrap. Something about that fact, that ability to feel that she has not had for days now, it cracks something inside her, manages to break through the thick walls that rose to shield her by removing the ability entirely.

Her reaction is so delayed that, by the time she can sense the crumbling, the inevitable collapse, he has already sent a horse to join her creatures, things she made only to get it out of her system without accidental destruction. She watches the horse gallop along with blurry eyes, tears caught in her bottom lashes. Without moving her feet, she slides from the chair to the ground, curls up next to Geralt without a word. She still doesn't have words or noises, but she stays close enough that they are touching. ]

horizon, late march.

[sorser]

[He has not forgotten his invite to her domain, one with an implied promise to continue their Summit discussion there. The problem is, he doesn't know, exactly, who she is; no exchange of names, no direction given in the vast space of the Horizon to the home-away-from-home she's carved out for herself. Stephen doesn't know what to look for, other than he needs to look, and he may be looking for a while. His strategy (though it is no more strategy than basic logic): nose into domains he's never been to before, invite be damned. Good thing Stephen Strange has never had a problem with being nosy, and maybe he meets a new face or two before he draws even remotely close to Julie's domain.

But eventually, through the process of elimination alone, he does draw close, enticed by what sounds like the muffled sound of bass music playing at heightened tempo, a siren call for the curious and seeking. And eventually, greeted by the facade of what he can only assume is an active club, he walks through its entrance only to be hit with a storm of color, sound, and a surprising number of people. Dancing, milling about, sitting at the bar. His eyes widen in surprise, and his utterance is undoubtedly lost in the noise:]

Wonderful.

[He isn't sure if this is wholly promising or not, but Stephen presses forward, twisting his body through the crowd as though he may catch on fire if he accidentally brushes against any. Lights catch against his sorcerer's garb, the red of his cloak bright beneath the lurid colors, making him hilariously out of place, and he considers wearing a typical set of clothes, more fit for a man off the streets of New York than the Sanctum Sanctorum. Ultimately, Stephen decides that standing out may be the best way to catch this domain owner's attention, or at least about as well as standing in the middle of the dance floor, eyebrows raised and calling out over the music:]

Are you accepting visitors or am I interrupting something?

[Which is absolutely what he's doing.]

[princessvegas]

[ Meanwhile, Julie has absolutely forgotten her invite. In her defense, she's been dealing with a lot this month, and she had also been drinking pretty continuously throughout the summit, but the truth of the matter is that she talks so much, and to so many people, she often forgets what she said and to whom. The club, however, is nearly always open to anyone who finds their way in, even when Julie herself isn't on the club floor.

But she's not all that hard to find. The people who live in her domain tend to congregate around her, and she stands out anyway, all sparkles and glitter under the neon lights. In the middle of the crowd, she has a tendency to seem more vibrant than other people around her, as if they were somehow washed out, just a little.

He calls out and up on the VIP balcony, the bodies milling around pause, look toward the noise. Julie breaks through them to rest her hands on the railing, her head cocked slightly, like a curious animal. ]

If you were interruptin', I'da locked the doors.

[ Notably, her voice is at a normal level, as if she were standing next to him in a quiet room -- she doesn't need to yell or compete for any kind of attention in this building. A path seems to open through the people on the lower level, one that leads to the stairs, and Julie retreats from the railing. Her voice remains constant, though, even when she's out of sight. ]

Don't get shy now, c'mon up.

[ Upstairs, she can be found sitting on an oversized white leather couch, sipping champagne and bobbing her foot. ]

[sorser]

[His eyes are drawn to her presence when her voice echoes from above, as though magnetized in that direction. Fitting for a host of any domain, and all the easier for him to find just who he’s looking for, peering down at him from the balcony above. In comparison to rest, she’s shines; the life of the party, figuratively and literally.

Some people thrive in it. Others feel as though their energy is being sapped from their bones with every bass beat hammering through them, and Stephen squarely belongs in the latter. The promise of less shining lights and crowds to amble through—as well as continuing their conversation from before—is motivation enough to find her upstairs, looking right at home.]

I feel underdressed.

[He says as he approaches, which is more to say that he feels hilariously out of place. He isn’t in Thornean garb like when they first spoke, but his sorcerer’s outfit from home isn’t exactly the go-to clubbing ensemble most would pick for themselves.]

[princessvegas]

[ Up here, it is slightly quieter, if only by virtue of containing less people than the dance floor. There doesn't appear to be any particular rhyme or reason as to exactly who gets selected to be up here with her -- there's nothing special differentiating these fake people from the others downstairs. Well, except for bartender, who swoops in to offer a champagne flute and a cocktail. He doesn't have to ask what cocktail; it is always the guest's favorite, and it is always made perfectly (and Instagrammably).

When she looks at him, it is with a welcoming smile, as though she had been waiting here for him. She gestures toward the sofa, though she won't push if he really wants to stand. ]

Nah, you're just four months late for the Halloween party. Missed New Year's and Valentine's, too. I haven't figured out what the next one'll be yet. I was thinkin' about an egg hunt for Easter, 'cept I don't know when Easter would be this year. Gets hard to plan around the floatin' holidays.

[ She does seem genuinely thoughtful about how she might corrupt a celebration for the resurrection of Christ. Something seems to hit her, though, and she points at him. ]

Wait, y'all do come from a world with Jesus, right? I just don't wanna try to explain Easter if I don't gotta. Christmas was hard enough.

[sorser]

[The way the bartender swoops in with a glass in hand, ready to tend to guests as though they had been lurking in the background all along, is almost comically timed. Stephen takes the drink in an automatic way, surprised, his attention split in two, the straw drifting lazily around the rim while an orange slice bobs happily in the ice. Stephen assumes this is an iced tea of the Long Island variety — how generous.

He turns back to her with a brow raised, looking like… a sorcerer holding a drink, even more out of place than before. But having no inclination to stand and talk, he crosses over and sinks into one of the cushions of the couch. Ice clinks in his glass.]

I got into a fight over an Easter egg when I was kid, once. You don’t need to explain the big holidays to me.

[Much less Christmas; a New York Christmas sears itself into the mind when experienced every single year. Those festivities are no longer over the top, only normal.]

So where’s this supposed to be? [A sweep of his free hand.] On Earth.

cadens, late march, for nadine

[princessvegas]

[ Julie is doing -- well, better might be an overstatement, given that it's barely noon and she's already drained an entire bottle of wine, but she's at least back on the physical plane. Willing to exist outside of her safe space where every blow can be cushioned, where she can lose herself entirely.

She'd stayed in the Horizon for a week and half. Still spends large chunks of each day there, even now, but slightly less as the days pass. She's down to only a few waking hours before bed, even if she hasn't yet resumed sleeping in the real world yet. It's more comfortable to sleep in her loft, with her tiny pets around her. They can't come with her when she leaves, and she wants them with her, tucked against the small of her back and the crook of her knees.

But she'd come out for dinner last night, stumbled from her room still drunk from the morning, starving, and over cheese and bread, asked Nadine a simple question.

You wanna go shopping tomorrow?

It's not that she'd had any specific purchase in mind. They've been well provided for in their time in Cadens, their apartment furnished, their cupboards stocked, their wardrobes updated with clothing that didn't immediately peg them as Thorne runaways in either style or unnecessary warmth. Between everyone taking care of them and their own paltry leftover savings, they've done alright, at least in terms of the basics.

But they'd had to leave so much behind, and an apartment came with more space to fill, to personalize. To make it look like they actually lived there. And the knowledge that they won't need to build yet another collection of clothes that can't transfer, it calls for an expansion of what they do have.

Also, if Julie has to look at Nadine in the same two dresses for the rest of their lives, she's gonna fuckin' lose it.

So she'd asked, and was mildly surprised that Nadine said yes. And so, Julie dragged herself out of bed at a halfway-decent hour, scarfed down some buttered bread with her copious amounts of alcohol, and they headed for the shopping district.

The sun is already unpleasantly bright, making Julie squint as they pass by shop windows, looking at their front displays. She points at a dress form in a corset, gold jacquard with white embroidery, taps the glass with one nail. ]

What about somethin' like that? You should try it.

[nadine_he_loves]

[Nadine has been coping with keeping herself busy, less frantically so following her cathartic emotional release, and trying to focus on building a life here in Cadens. She hasn't made any comment about Julie's drinking, only tried to make sure the other woman is eating and drinking water as well. Who is she to try and police someone else's grieving? Her only concern is that Julie keep her strength up, especially after her lengthy stay in the Horizon.

But Julie is eating, if maybe not as much as Nadine would like, and starting to come back to herself.

This is a large part of why they'd come to Cadens. At least, when something happens, they have their people with them. 'Their people' encompasses a lot more than it used to.

Shopping, when it was proposed, sounded like just the sort of distraction they both could use. Nadine's never been one to indulge in shopping - it's something that has to be done for necessities. But she can indulge now. She has a job. She has someone supporting her. And she and Julie have an entire apartment that still doesn't feel like a home. Not to mention her own wardrobe is...still on the lacking side. And she can't even say 'who do I have to dress up for?' anymore.]

That's pretty. And extremely impractical and fancier than anything I own.

[She cocks her head as she follows Julie's pointing, pursing her lips in thought.]

I think I will try it. Let's go in.

[princessvegas]

[ It would be a lie if Julie tried to claim that she was fully devoting herself to actually recovering from this, putting her all into healing. She's not. She knows she's not. She's drinking too much, eating little more than the bare minimum necessary. Still secluding herself most of the time, either in the Horizon or simply in her room, where she lies motionless in bed for hours, staring at the wall. But she did that work last time, when it was Susan. Pulled the pieces together by threads, slowly. She did it and look what it got her. What will happen the next time?

Julie scoffs, rolls her eyes a little, good-naturedly. This is a woman who wears evening gowns to watch death matches, furs to walk through industrial areas. She can't fathom the idea of constraining herself to only the simple and necessary. ]

Honey, the whole point of fashion is to be extremely impractical and fancy. Ain't nothin' wrong with sweats, but you don't wear 'em to look good. C'mon.

[ She opens the door, walks inside. A bell light tinkles, announcing their arrival. Different fabrics line the walls, drape loosely over more dress forms as a suggestion to how they might look as a dress or skirt. Julie stops to look through a few samples, glancing over as the shopgirl greets them. ]

[nadine_he_loves]

You know fashion doesn't really come naturally to me. I didn't even start wearing makeup until I was almost out of college. I...need a lot of help here.

[At least Julie's the right sort of help. Sure, their tastes are very different, but Julie always looks good. Obviously she understands how to dress, what colors and shapes look right.]

But...maybe I could try something in red? I don't know if I've ever worn anything red in my adult life. It might look nice. Do you think?

[If old movies taught her anything, it's platinum blonds looked really good in slinky red gowns. And maybe she's not ready for anything slinky, but she'd promised she'd try dressing less....matronly. She's determined to try.

Starting with the corset from the window, which she asks the attendant about - as well as the fitting rooms, where she's directed to promptly.]

[princessvegas]

Girl, you just gotta be confident. Sure, there's a few rules, but most of lookin' good is just actin' like you're the hottest shit the world ever saw. That, and a sharp wing on your eyeliner.

[ Julie is willing to teach makeup, which is an actual skill. She's already been teaching Ciri. And she'll happily help dress Nadine, too. But it won't matter what Nadine wears if she doesn't wear it with nerve.

Nadine mentions red, and Julie makes a thoughtful face, nods. That's something she can do. ]

Y'all go get set up in the dressin' room, I'll be back there in a minute. Let me grab a couple of things.