Mordecai Roberts (septman) wrote in saveatlantisic, @ 2018-03-06 12:49:00 |
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It didn’t escape Sarissa’s attention that her social interactions with her team leader - if sitting around being maudlin about their past and things that were going on back home could be considered social interactions - usually involved wine. Of course, it was hard to sit around being maudlin about their past and things that were going on back home without turning to wine. And today, she’d woken up to find a bottle of wine by her bedside - something other Atlantis residents also reported. Another vagary of the place, she supposed. She’d checked it for anything strange, in case it had been left with ill intentions, or had something in it that might turn her into a stuffed squirrel. Not seeing any issues with it, she’d contacted Mordecai to see if he wanted to share the bottle with her. Despite what she’d told him, she was still missing her mother, her sister, and also her daughter. She needed the company of someone who could sit with her and understand. She walked to his apartment rather than teleporting there, preferring not to use her powers where possible. Part of her still hoped that if she didn’t use her powers, she could slow the effect of the Mantle’s takeover of her soul. It was probably a futile hope, but she had to hold onto it. There wasn’t much else to hold onto. Once at the door, she knocked. He could see easily enough it was her who’d come to visit. Unless necessary, Mordecai had begun refraining from using Witch Sight on Sarissa. It was always startling. Such auras were not uncommon among certain magical creatures, but they rather distracted when one was trying to make conversation. He was expecting her, however, and he was looking forward to the company of a good friend, not to mention a drink. Mordecai had his own bottle of wine already chilling, and was retrieving glasses when he heard the knock. He opened the door and waved her into the room with the hand holding the glasses. “Take a seat.” “You’re already set up, I see,” Sarissa remarked as stepped in. Despite the brisk temperatures outside, she was dressed lightly in a blouse and jeans. She may not be using her powers deliberately, but she carried warmth and sunshine with her as a matter of course. “This one needs time to breathe,” she said as she offered her own bottle to him. “It’s a very nice Pinot Gris. I had a taste before I came over. For safety purposes, you know.” “Naturally,” said Mordecai, taking the bottle. “One can never be too careful.” He set out the Pinot and retrieved a packet of crisps he’d picked up earlier, along with some cheese. “I scrounged up some snacks, as well. My attempt at responsible drinking.” He pulled out a chair. He was aware that his version of ‘polite’ or even ‘casual’ weren't quite what many residents of the towers would call by those names, but Atlantis hadn’t worn away an upbringing some century removed from that of his friends here. If he'd failed at least the rudiments of gentlemanly behavior, his father might well arrive in Atlantis to haunt him (that thought was worthy of a drink in itself). Sarissa had lived long enough in the mortal world that she appreciated such gestures. She inclined her head in thanks to him and took the seat he offered. “With two bottles of wine to get through, I’m not sure how responsible we can get,” she said wryly. “At least we’re experienced with this by now.” Mordecai grinned. “I did say attempt,” he pointed out. “It might be an indifferent one, but they do say it’s the thought that counts.” He poured them each a glass, handed one of them to Sarissa, and then took his own seat. “To good intentions!” he said, lifting his glass. There was just a touch of self-mockery in the toast. After all, there was also the other saying about intentions. Sarissa laughed outright in recognition of the unspoken remark. It was nice to do so; she’d been called her up in her melancholy more deeply than she’d thought. “May we enjoy ourselves while trying to fulfill them,” she said, clinking his glass with hers. After all, everyone - even immortal faeries - ended up in the ground some time. It just took some people longer than others. It was what they did in that time that mattered. “Speaking of enjoying ourselves…” She took a sip of her wine. “How are you spending your time between missions?” Mordecai was pleased to hear the laugh. He sipped his wine, and smiled with satisfaction. “I’ve paid several visits to Spin In and Out,” he said, referring to the music store near the harbor. I found some recordings of songs from home, and made some new discoveries.” He’d probably spent more than he should in the store, but it had been worth the price. “I only hope I’m not driving Clarke to distraction,” he added. He liked his roommate, and did try to be accommodating, but one could forget. After another sip, he added, “And how about you? What have you been doing outside of training?” “Oh, a little bit of everything,” Sarissa said, settling back in her chair. Without her conscious effort, it moulded itself around her to make her comfortable. “Pegasus rides, reading up on various cultures in the library, learning macrame…” She gave him a rueful smile. “I like to dabble.” Dabbling meant no commitment to anything, which was why Sarissa liked it. She’d survived this long by not aligning herself to one thing or another. Was it a shallow existence? Sure. Did Maeve sneer at it? Of course. …had sneered at it. She didn’t sneer at anything anymore. “I can’t throw stones,” Mordecai said lightly. “Music and cricket and travel. My father was ready to despair of me before I decided to take the job at the Castle.” Should he be grateful to the Dright for those orders? Mordecai wouldn't have met Rosalie or Flavian or Christopher without them, but actual gratitude was a challenge to summon. His father would say it was Providence: the bitter taste in his mouth to accompany the sweetness of friendship (His father would turn in his grave at some of the other orders he’d followed.). Mordecai swirled his glass, watching the light play on the wine, then took another sip. “I suspect he’d think your hobbies less frivolous than mine. Or less expensive, at least.” “Oh, you didn’t know me during my ballroom phase,” Sarissa replied, grateful to him for keeping things light. She needed to stop thinking about her sister. “Have you any idea how much those pros charge for private lessons? I’m sure I kept at least one of them in Swarovski costumes.” She gave him a rueful smile. “I suppose I should consider myself lucky my mother wasn’t exactly...involved, when it came to my life. Of course, the Queen of Winter has a lot more important things to deal with than a daughter who couldn’t decide on what she wanted to be when she grew up.” Mordecai laughed, perhaps a shade more loudly for the wine. “I defy anyone to say that wasn’t money well spent,” he declared. “You're an excellent dancer.” He might not be much for deep conversation, but he was happy to be a distraction. “And I suppose those costumes have to come from somewhere.” He was quiet for a moment. “Sometimes, it’s nice to be able to escape notice,” he said. “But a child should be more than-” An afterthought? A pawn? He shrugged. Perhaps that was where the Dright had miscalculated. “I knew he cared. There are times I miss his disapproval.” He paused and finished off his glass. “And times I thank God he never saw me arrested.” Sarissa sketched out a half-bow. “I’m glad I didn’t forget everything; it’s been a few decades.” She didn’t often speak of her age, preferring to keep the pretense that she was an ordinary millenial with nothing more important than shoes and social media on her mind, but in Mordecai she’d found a kindred spirit who was easy to speak of such things to. She slanted a smile at him. “I’m not sure you’ve mentioned your arrests before. I’d like to hear those stories. I was always the good girl. Best way to stay alive: stay quiet, do what you’re asked to…” She turned the glass between her hands, staring down at what was left of her wine. “I suppose I should eventually do that. Go back to what I’m supposed to. I do have responsibilities now that I’m the Summer Lady.” “One wouldn’t know it,” said Mordecai, returning the bow. It wasn't entirely gallantry. He meant the compliment. Sarissa struck him as rather timeless, not in the imposing way of the Dright or her descriptions of the fairy queens, but as a point of familiarity in the futuristic world of Atlantis. She was also pleasantly difficult to shock, although Mordecai still hesitated at the idea of a full elaboration. The shorter version left him looking like the most mercenary of rogues. The longer version was - long. “It’s rather a more sordid story than university pranks,” he said. Mordecai had related a fair few of those escapades in the past, entertaining but harmless tidbits. “Spirit traveling has some not so legal applications.” The self-mocking smile had returned. “I took a bribe for some of them. Not the sort of things a government agent ought to engage in. I enjoyed the exploring, if you care to hear about that. It took me all through the Related Worlds.” He leaned forward to refill his glass, and then tilted the bottle towards Sarissa's in question. “It would be a great loss to Atlantis, if you did,” he said, gallantry mixed with sincerity once again. She’d spoken of the fate that awaited her before, and Mordecai couldn't feel complacent about her returning to it, especially when he’d dodged his own by such a close margin. “And I’d miss our chats.” Sarissa finished off her wine and offered her glass for the refill. “You’re terribly sweet,” she said, charmed despite his brief description of his less-than-savoury dealings. Or maybe because of it. Whatever he’d gotten up to, it couldn’t be any worse than what she’d seen and experienced herself over the centuries. “But I always knew I couldn’t stay here forever. I have a fate to fulfill.” She smiled sadly, knowing full well what returning home meant. But she had responsibilities to the very balance of nature itself. She had a Winter Queen to keep in check and a Summer Queen to serve. She had so much to do. No - the Summer Lady had so much to do. Sarissa wasn’t needed. “But…” She roused herself from her dark thoughts. “That’s not something that has to happen now. We have almost two full bottles of wine, and you promised me sordid stories. I expect to gasp at least once, or I’ll be sorely disappointed.” With a laugh, he lifted his glass in a second salute. “I accept the challenge.” Mordecai knew how to tell a good story, and it wasn't difficult to turn his errands for the Wraith into thrilling and slightly scandalous adventures. He’d done something similar under interrogation in the Castle, telling enough of the truth to damn himself as an unrepentant scoundrel without revealing his companion nor falling afoul of Gabriel’s truth spells. Hiking up to see the Great Glacier, collecting magic mushroom essence and evading his own employer's traps, smuggling dragon’s blood from under the nose of a very angry dragon… It took near the end of the second bottle of wine to make a good tale out of fleeing from the temple guard to steal the least congenial of the Goddess Asheth’s sacred cats and seeing an accomplice killed before his eyes. “...And after all that trouble, the creature got loose in London. Tore a strip off me right through my protective spells - which I confess I deserved. When I finally tracked it down, I was irritated enough with the Wraith to take it to the Castle for safekeeping. I told Gabriel I’d found it wandering about.” He raised a sardonic eyebrow. “Betraying two birds with one stone.” He could say that he’d acted - mostly - under duress, that he’d regretted it, that Atlantis had been a welcome second chance, but she hadn't judged, and this was an evening for entertainment, not confessions. Good wine, good company, and an excuse to push unpleasant realities into the background for however long that might last. |