bellamy blake (whoweneedtobe) wrote in thegalaxy, @ 2016-05-06 13:47:00 |
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Entry tags: | !locale: naboo, bellamy blake, dee |
twelve bars behind us
Who: Dee & Bellamy.
What: Refugee Booze Cruise.
When: Hecka backdated but you’ll live! Late evening, before all this hot mess.
Where: outside Naboo’s refugee village
Rating:
For once, Dee was not hiding. She perched atop a tall stool at the very edge of the bar, dangling a bottle of Ithorian Mist from her fingers while idly surveying the contents of a small charcuterie board placed in front of her. She could be seen easily from the doorway, from the cantina’s floor -- even, if one were particularly observant, from the road outside the dusty little archway that led inside. The night was warm; the door was open, and Dee caught herself often looking up to watch the irregular trickling-in and -out of patrons. More than once she thought she saw someone she knew. It was a foolish thought, and fleeting, but one that left her feeling lonely all the same. She took another quick sip of whiskey and looked back down at her food.
She could hear Betty’s well-intentioned admonishment now. These will go great with some magic mushrooms, Betty would say. Here. Try one. Dee sighed. She plucked a large white cheese curd from the board and popped it into her mouth. It was no magic mushroom, but for now it would have to suffice. Perhaps in time, after they had better gotten to know one another, her new captain might tell her where to find such distractions. At home she had rarely indulged. Here, innumerable miles from her sisters in arms, it seemed a comfort to which she could readily turn.
“Another,” she said, wagging the still half-full bottle at the bartender. The Twi’lek nodded. He bent down -- perhaps more than was necessary, though Dee was of no mind to complain -- and fetched a second bottle from behind the bar. Dee nearly smiled, but busied herself instead in choosing a thinly shaved slice of meat from the board.
Bellamy was steadily assimilating into this world. It only made sense that he would integrate himself into the bar scene as well. Seeing someone standing behind a bar still brought a pang of grief, a reminder of Gina and her wasted potential. A life he snuffed out with his poor decisions. It was a grief he couldn’t let go, but as the days went by it was a pain that was beginning to dull. So when he stepped into the cantina, it was with a lighter heart than the last time he’d stepped into one and that was an improvement. One he intended to capitalize on.
His attention was naturally on the bar, not bothering with a sweep of the other patrons. As Bellamy stepped in, he caught sight of Dee. It took a moment before his brain placed her and he managed an honest smile. She had spared him a great deal of physical pain and even if the memory was tainted by his current at-odds status with Clarke, Bellamy figured it was the perfect opportunity to thank Dee, yet again, for what she’d done for him. Making his way over, Bellamy stopped along side where she was perched on her stool.
“I’d offer to buy you a drink, but…,” he spoke up with an easy smirk and wondered if she would recognize him. The moment had probably been a little more memorable for him, but it was clear the memory had not entirely left the priestess’ mind. She smiled, raised her bottle to him.
“That’s all right,” she said. She pushed the second, untouched bottle of Ithorian Mist over the bar toward Bellamy. “You can buy the next round. I’m going to sit at this barstool until I fall off of it.”
He reached out, taking the bottle and sliding it closer to him. “Sounds like a plan,” Bellamy quipped. Heavy drinking hadn’t been really available as a regular activity back home, but tonight seemed like a good time to make a change in that respect.
She shifted atop her seat, turning to better face her erstwhile patient. “How have you been, Bellamy? And Clarke, was it?”
Lifting one shoulder in a half-shrug, Bellamy drummed his fingers on the bottle of Ithorian Mist. “Alive,” he answered. “Better than I have been, actually,” he amended with a nod. “Clarke’s fine, I guess.” He shot Dee a look, “We’re not really seeing eye-to-eye right now. But she’s Clarke so… she’s fine.” He did his best impression of not caring about the current status of his and Clarke’s friendship and flashed a smile.
“What about you? How’ve you been?”
“Good,” she said. “The best I’ve been since I landed here, I think. I’m finally making some connections. I even found some steady work.” She smiled. “It’s not orc-slaying -- at least I don’t think it is -- but I think I’ll be good at it all the same. Provided I don’t get seasick. Or whatever the space equivalent of that is. Space-sick.” She frowned down at her drink, burying this line of thought with another well-sized sip.
Bellamy gave a quick laugh. “Space-sick. I never thought of that.” He managed to get his own glass off the bartender, filling it to the brim. “Maybe being born in space makes me immune to it.” He wondered if artificial gravity was something you could notice. It had always been there, so he never had.
“Maybe so,” she said. Her smile grew. “I’m glad things are looking up for you. For the most part. You know if you need to talk, I’m a very good listener.” She raised her glass. “And booze does grease the wheels of conversation very well.”
He managed a quiet scoff. Talking about things was never a good idea. He lifted his own glass and tipped his head. “I need a lot of booze to do a lot of greasing before I could talk about… anything.” Bellamy preferred to compartmentalize and internalize until he exploded. But maybe alcohol would loosen him up. He quickly downed his entire glass, unable to stop the face he made as his throat burned.
“Now’s a good a time as any to find out what kind of drunk I am.” He smirked as he refilled his glass liberally, “If I’m not a good one, just punch me.”
“I have a lot of practice with that,” Dee quipped. “You’re in good hands. Fists.” As if to demonstrate, she raised one hand, flexing her fingers, then making a tight ball of her fist. Belatedly, she blinked. “You were born… in space? I remember you saying you were from somewhere dangerous, but now I can’t help but feel that was a dramatic understatement.”
Bellamy grinned, though the expression faded quickly. “Yep, on the Ark - a space station orbiting Earth. We were up there because nuclear bombs made the planet uninhabitable.” He knocked back his drink and refilled directly after. “The life support started to give out, so in its infinite wisdom, the Ark rounded up 100 prisoners under the age of majority and sent them down to Earth to test if people could survive the radiation levels,” Bellamy tried to sound flippant, even though the idea of his sister as some sort of test subject still pissed him off.
“Space wasn’t the dangerous part, it was the people,” he tacked on before taking another swig. “Like space here probably isn’t dangerous. It’s always the people.” Bellamy looked Dee over, “Maybe not you,” he conceded. “Well, unless I’m a bad drunk,” he raised a fist and smirked.
She chuckled. “You’re tame compared to what I’m used to.” She cut her eyes at him, giving him a dramatic look of uncertain appraisal. “So far, anyway.”
There were so many questions she wanted to ask--what was radiation? Nuclear bombs? How could ‘life support,’ as universal as that sounded, ‘give out’?--but she could glean enough from the context of his words. People were dangerous, indeed; she was all too familiar with that, thanks to both home and Naboo. She smiled, and tried to find comfort in the fact that among all this strangeness they had found one another. Bellamy, at least, was good; so too were the women who were rapidly becoming her anchors in this place.
“The only danger I present to you,” she said, raising her glass as if in toast, “is in drinking you under the table tonight. Which I have every intention of doing. So you’d better hurry up with that whiskey, because you’re already at least a glass behind.”
He rolled his eyes good-naturedly and scoffed. She was probably right - Bellamy doubted he was much of a drinker. Everything was always rationed until they got to the ground. But hey, you had to develop your skills at some point and here was as good a place as any to do it. Bellamy raised his own glass in response to Dee and then drained it. The burn wasn’t so harsh as it had been initially and he figured it wouldn’t be long before it just went numb. Definitely a bonus.
“I want to say that I’m going to be the winner here,” he drawled, lifting his newly refilled-to-the-rim glass, “But getting drunk wasn’t a common occurrence for me.” Not when he had a little sister to play parent to while his other entertained officials in their quarters. But why bring that up and be a downer? “It’ll be a baptism by fire,” Bellamy flashed a smile and emptied the glass in an attempt to catch up. He grimaced, but it burned in a good way. “Just you know… more fun than actual fire.”
“You say that now,” Dee said. She tossed back another quick shot. Each one went down smoother than the last. If she swayed a little on her stool, she did not notice. With fumbling fingers she took a slice of hard cheese from the board. She pointed it at Bellamy. “I’ll ask you again tomorrow morning. Lucky for both of us I know a few home remedies. Living with the Queens, you have to learn such things to survive.”
Chewing her small snack, she reached over to their shared bottle, her own being suddenly empty. The Twi’lek behind the bar noted her gesture. He cleared away the empties and set another down, this one full to nearly overflowing. Dee topped both their glasses off, being perhaps overzealous in her pouring.
Bellamy grabbed hold of his glass once it was topped off. He eyed the Twi’lek for a moment because he was still getting used to the whole alien thing, but quickly lifted the glass and drained it. He judged Jasper so harshly for hiding behind alcohol, but now Bellamy could see the merit. The blissful buzz it created in his head made everything seem so much nicer. No wonder Jasper chose to live like this instead of dealing with the death of Maya. He grinned, the expression easy when it never was usually.
“The Queens?” he asked. “Like, royalty or people whose last name is Queen?” Bellamy thought vaguely that there were people here with the last name Queen, but he couldn’t recall first names. It didn’t really matter.
Dee laughed. “Neither,” she said, “although I suppose sometimes we acted like we thought we were royalty.” She leaned back on the barstool. She pointed at the clasp of her gold belt: it was shaped into a squid’s head, its tentacles dangling above her purple loin skirt. Inside the squid’s head, a rat’s head was engraved in silhouette.
“The Rat Queens,” Dee explained. “The best godsdamned mercenary band you’ll ever find. And exceptional pub crawlers. I was always the responsible one, but now...” She gestured to the empty chairs extending off to her opposite side. “I have no sisters to be keeper of.”
He looked at the clasp of her belt and wondered vaguely what a squid had to do with rats and what rats had to do with queens, but Bellamy resigned himself to the fact he would really never understand iconography. “Rats because you’re mercenaries,” he connected that, at least. And grinned.
“I’m the responsible one, too,” Bellamy pointed out. “Every time they wanted to make moonshine, someone had to keep a perimeter watch,” he gestured to himself. Maybe that wasn’t the honest truth, but from a certain point of view it was. Bellamy liked to consider himself to responsible patriarch of the delinquents, anyway. He filled his glass again, “I don’t have anyone to be keeper of anymore either.” Yeah, his sister and Clarke and Raven were here, but he would be hard-pressed to find a group of women more independent than they were - and he was pretty sure Raven was the only one who didn’t resent him on some level.
“Just means more time for fun things like commiserating and attempting to outdrink present company,” Bellamy lifted his glass and then downed it.
“It does indeed,” Dee said, matching him gesture for gesture. The liquor was dwindling again. She motioned to the bartender--keep ‘em coming, her hands seemed to say--and refilled both their glasses. “I’d like to try this moonshine of yours. That’s supposed to be quite strong, isn’t it?”
She pushed the charcuterie board closer to him. An assortment of meats and cheeses still lay there, albeit in a less appealing presentation than they had first arrived. “You should eat a little,” she said. “A little food in your belly will keep you going longer.”
Her caregiving instincts thus indulged, she set back to her drink with renewed fervor. “What happened to your people?” she asked. “I’ve seen you mention them on the holonet, but I haven’t ever had anything helpful to add, I’m afraid.”
Bellamy eyed the charcuterie board. He was still getting used to the idea of plated food that wasn’t delivered in rationed trays, but the meat looked familiar to what he ate back at home. The few months’ worth of time on Naboo had him more adventurous in the sort of food he accepted, anyway. He reached over and picked a piece of meat, popping it into his mouth.
“They’re still here. Octavia: my sister. And Raven and Clarke,” Bellamy answered the question. “Clarke is… doing whatever the hell she wants to do,” he scoffed, “And Octavia’s settling. Raven’s working on taking apart and rebuilding her ship, to get a feel for how things work here.” He rolled his eyes, “Because that’s the kind of genius she is.” Bellamy emptied his glass, content with how the world seemed glazed over. “We killed a lot of people back home and a lot of people were trying to kill us.”
He grabbed a piece of cheese, “Not something that’s happening so much here,” Bellamy quipped. “It’s cool, you know? It’s cool to just relax for once.” His tone was loose and more casual than he ever let himself be. He took in a breath, “You know the thing you did. The first time we met,” Bellamy wasn’t sure she would want him to just openly talk about how she’d healed him, “Could you always do that?” It was an abrupt topic change, but he figured it was better than talking about anything revolving around him.
Dee was disappointed at his derailment, and it showed on her face. Worry drew a small line between her brows. But liquor dulled her senses, and he seemed well enough for the moment; so she followed where he led, and let the conversation turn.
“No,” she said, after another pull from her glass. She blinked doeishly, her eyelids heavy as she looked back to him. “I learned that from my tribe, once I became a proper priestess. One benefit of N’Rygoth’s unwilling blessings.” She rocked slightly on her seat. “There are others, of course, but I’ve found healing to be the most useful. I’ve gotten better over time. As you say, a lot of people to kill, a lot of people trying to kill us...” She pressed a hand to Bellamy’s arm.
“Let me tell you something.” Her voice was a stadium whisper, trying and failing to sound conspiratorial. “You need to relax a little. You’re tense, Bellamy. Anyone can see that. But we can be different here. We’ve been given a second chance.”
He didn’t like the way his chest tightened when she said he needed to relax. There was the problem with drinking: unruly emotion. He was so good at keeping it under wraps. Bellamy scrubbed a hand over his face and realized he couldn’t actually feel the motion. He reached to where Dee’s hand rested on his arm and he covered it with his own. “It’s my third chance,” he corrected her, matching her whisper, and cleared his throat. “The Ark,” he ticked off on his fingers, “Earth, and now here.
“Third time’s the charm or something.” He went for his glass again. She frowned deeper than she realized, and mirrored his movements. “Priestess, huh?” Bellamy circled back around to what she said originally, “N’Rygoth,” he tried the name on for size and was certain he’d mispronounced it. “Is that a god or a goddess? I used to read mythology a lot. I know all about gods and goddesses. I like them.” He’d had a point originally, but forgot it along the way. “Healing’s cool,” he decided on instead.
She nodded more enthusiastically than the comment required. “It is,” she said. “And I’m grateful for it. But you wouldn’t like this god. I certainly don’t. I’m trying to kill him.” She scoffed. “Want to join in? We could always use one more priest praying and sapping away that godsdamned thing’s strength.”
Waving dismissively, she careened from one subject to another. “Ah well,” she said. “Second chance or third, we’re going to make the most of it. To new friends and fresh starts.” She raised her glass, clinking it too hard against Bellamy’s.
Bellamy laughed at the idea of being a priest. He would be a terrible one, he was sure. Priests weren’t really a thing on the Ark, but from what he’d read of them, he doubted he would ever be able to keep up such a lifestyle. But then, priests he read about didn’t seem much like the kind of priestess Dee was. He wondered if her kind of priests carried guns, because that was just about all he was good at these days.
It didn’t matter though, because he was grinning and following right along with her, lifting his own glass and barking a laugh when its contents sloshed out as Dee’s glass knocked against it. “To new friends and fresh starts,” he agreed enthusiastically. “You’re the first person not from the Ark that I’ve met who didn’t try to kill me right away. That’s like… a record or something,” he said, amused at the idea because the alcohol prevented it from being anything other than funny. “Guess this place makes me more likable,” Bellamy joked. “So you can be my first new friend!” He declared proudly, clearly pleased with the idea.
“Friends,” she said. She licked a stray droplet of whiskey from the side of her cup. Waste not, want not, she thought; not for the first time, that inner voice sounded a lot like Hannah’s. “I promise I will never to try to kill you. And since we’re friends now, that means I’ll actively try to keep others from killing you as well.” She gave him a sly, sidelong look. “I’m a good hand with a shortsword. If those things even exist in this… galaxy.” She fumbled for a bit of cheese from the tray. After three unsuccessful attempts, she managed to pick up the final white curd.
“Hey, then… ditto,” Bellamy said enthusiastically. “I’m best with guns,” he pointed out. “Well, I’m good with really just killing people who hurt my friends. Guns are my favorite,” he added, thoughtful, as if there was a method of killing people he might prefer. At this point, he figured he probably needed to just accept that he’d need a favorite if his track record continued.
“I find it hard to believe you’ve not made any friends here,” she said. “You’re so… nice. I’ve met a couple of good people. I could introduce you.”
“Nice,” Bellamy tried the word out and pulled a face. Nice he definitely was not. “I’m a little standoffish,” he offered, but shrugged because for now he liked the idea of being considered nice and didn’t feel like correcting it. “But it’s nice that you think I’m nice! That makes you nice,” he said and blinked, because with a sentence like that, it was clear he was not nearly as sober enough as he preferred to be. “There’s a possibility that…” he paused to deliver the rest in a stage whisper, “I’m drunk.”
Dee positively giggled. She heard the sound in her head as though it came from someone else; in a more coherent state, she would have rolled her eyes. “Me too,” she hissed. “We should probably get back. I’m afraid when I get off this stool I’m going to need help just to find my… hut. Whatever they’re called here.”
He nodded absently in agreement. Getting back was probably a good idea at this point. He fumbled to put credits down, flashing a rakish grin at the bartender, before sliding from his seat, swaying slightly. “Well… as your friend,” Bellamy said, “I will help you find your hut.” It was the nice thing to do, after all, and he was nice. Not that he knew where her hut was. Or where his was, for that matter. “Or I can at least find the general direction,” he said with a shrug, after thinking it through for a beat. “Maybe,” Bellamy amended to himself as he meandered toward the door. He would regret all this drinking in the morning, but the pleasant buzz that dominated his mind and the idea of new friend seemed well worth it.