gʀɑɦɑɱ ɦɑʆɗɑʀ, ɛรquiʀɛ (businesslike) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2015-09-13 14:27:00 |
|
|||
It was a bit too early for a festive evening with a crackling fireplace and hot cups of spiced apple cider, but that didn’t stop Wendy from wearing a burgundy sweater dress and preparing tea at Zelda’s, something calming to sip while they settled in for the evening - and by settling in, that meant preparing and steeling themselves to bring up that thing with Impa. You know, that messy court case legal battle to gain control of an energy empire thing. But so far, everyone was in a good mood, in decent enough spirits, and nothing looked amiss? There was tea, of course, and Wendy was continuing 1,001 Uses for Mason Jars, A Study Of by painting a set gold so that they could be used for flower vases at some point. Painting was more Jack’s thing but she thought she’d give it a go with this simple enough project, newspapers spread out to prevent dripping, and she had a small brush that she used to apply the strokes carefully. Midna was on the sofa, far more casual, yoga pants and a Renaissance Ninja t-shirt that hung loosely on her (Michaelangelo with a turtle mask on, super hilarious), and since she’d started her Arabic class at the end of August she was busy doing a few exercises from her book. The class was every Wednesday night, for three hours, went for eight weeks, and she was in the beginner one now but hoped to complete more later. If she passed this one without looking like a moron. “Doorbell,” she spoke up helpfully when the chime went off, but didn’t move from her perch on the cushions. “Must be Tall Drink of Water on the verge of a nerdgasm.” Tea. May all three goddesses bless Wendy’s sweet little hard. Zelda had wished for that bitter bite of alcohol in it to soothe those nerves set ablaze, but she wouldn’t be too picky - even if she was tightly wound, gut sinking in dread, every bone in her body wanting to hit the ‘rewind’ button so she could, quite frankly, have a bit more time to rethink the entire situation but, nope! The time was here, the time was now, there was no turning back. Though stress wasn’t something she visibly exuded, not really. A mask equivalent to still waters, Zelda was very adept in keeping those unruly feelings in check, even if the thumping of her heart was possibly the loudest sound in her ears. She’d been with Midna on the couch, no activity in particular keeping her busy aside the from the stormy ocean of her thoughts - memories, the reason why she was doing this, every single thing Impa had sacrificed, everything they’d lost. Then, ding! The bell rung, and she rolled her eyes at Midna’s declaration. “I’m sure,” she snorted, stole a pesky kiss from the Princess of Twilight, and bounded over towards the door to open wide. Impa wasn’t home just yet - they’d have about ten minutes to kill before the sound of the truck came rumbling down the road. “Hey, hon. Come in. Things are uneventful.” For now. This was going to be interesting. That, plus potentially dangerous for his skull, if the events of the evening did culminate in large objects being launched at Jonathan’s head, but he was nothing if not determined. And stubborn. And fully prepared for projectiles tossed his way. He was going to win this case, for both Zelda and her dutiful caretaker, to clear Impa’s name, and he wanted to make sure they both knew that. Knew that they could trust him with this very important milestone in their lives - because it would change everything, and it would be a lot, but once they’d all worked through it, when the dust settled, it would be entirely worth the struggle to reap the benefits and take back what was rightfully theirs. “She’s not home yet?” he asked Zelda, taking a look around and setting down the manilla folders he’d brought, on the coffee table, after Wendy cleaned up and scooted away her project to leave room. The mason jars would dry prettily on a shelf, and she took her teacup to fortify herself, giving Zelda a pointed look. “Drink,” Miss Darling encouraged. “Tea soothes the soul. And the nerves.” “I strategically timed it to where we’d regroup and take a deep breath before...you know,” Zelda informed and as if on cue, actually took that deep breath. All of them sans Impa were together and now those nerves were wound tight, a ticking time bomb of anxiety and panic waiting to happen but she held it together well. On the surface, anyway. So, yes, tea. Her fingers practically hugged the teacup for dear life. “We’ve got tea, thanks to Wendy, so help yourself.” As for anything else to properly cope with - like liquid courage - they’d save that for after this, considering she owed all three of them for being here. A buffer in between what she expected to be a heated argument, based off of her interactions with the woman in question about it in the past. Before she’d been younger, a bit more naive, without the means of actually setting forth a plan of action. Now everything changed. Maybe it wasn’t a kingdom to save like in her dreams, but it was still her legacy, their legacy, that needed to be taken back and Impa’s name redeemed. Otherwise these ruthless asshats would prance around, thinking they got away with it - thinking they could always get away with it and that didn’t sit well with her. “Midna’s got a good knack for easing Impa when she’s in a mood,” she explained after a sip of herbal water, sweetened with honey and some natural sugar. “So she’s got Impa duty if she storms off, which...I don’t know, I sort of predict. I can’t really say.” A sigh. “I almost got us all helmets, but then she’d think something was up or we...got into her stash.” The last bit was mumbled against the rim of the teacup. An insinuation that, yes, Impa was a bit of a pothead but Zelda didn’t judge! Better than the cigarettes she smoked. “Her...stash?” Jonathan repeated incredulously, lifting an eyebrow way up. Midna burst into giggles, just about dying on the sofa, before marking her place in her schoolbook and tossing it aside. She wished she had popcorn for this. She would need popcorn for this. In fact, she swiveled to boing back up on mile-long legs, hopping into the kitchen to see what was what. And her laugh could still be heard, wafting in, a husky sound that sent hearts adrift to sea. “Impa has the good stuff. I think we’ll all need some, when we’re done here. Whaddya say?” Well, hey, why not. “Technically I quit smoking, but...” Jonathan trailed off. “No one said anything about a stash.” Popopopop went the kernels - yep, Midna really was making a snack. If you couldn’t laugh at the most awkward times, then when could you? She was good at easing the tension that way. And also at Impa duty. Really?! Was her stash that much of a topic of interest? The blonde bit back a sigh. "Depends on her mood and if she likes the lot of us after it's all said and done," she mused, fingernails tapping against the porcelain. It was a cute and vintage set, and one might think she splurged a pretty penny on it but it was treasure uncovered at a flea market. Someone else's unwanted goods. A bit tarnished, but the flower embroidery of pewter was actually very exquisite. Then she could hear it, in the distance - long, sensitive ears picking up on the sound of an old engine (despite the disruptive sound of Midna's snack in the background), and instantly her stomach sunk. Here goes nothing. Or everything. "She's coming," Zelda announced and after peeking through the blinds to confirm the rolling, rusted truck in the distance, she faced the Brave Three (seriously!) and gave an affirmative nod. "Here goes nothing." Through the door, minutes later, came a towering woman. Caramel toned skin with tattoos (various religious symbols and words of other languages), intense amber eyes, hair prematurely silvery white. Her physique was top-notch, intimidating for someone her age but Impa looked good, like some Amazoness out of the jungle exuding grace and dignity. And confusion, at the sight of the crowd. "Hello." Wendy Darling, she knew - ever since she was a wee porcelain doll playing tea party. Hard to forget Midna, who had been so comfortable around them to act like she lived here. And a man she hadn't quite met. "This isn't some fucked up pregnancy announcement, is it?" Zelda spit out her tea. “Oh dear,” Wendy coughed, which was a dainty sound unable to be heard over Midna’s hysterical cackling. She had a bowl of popcorn and knew she made the right decision, stuffing kernels into her mouth with the biggest, most impressive shit-eating grin on her face. For his part, Jonathan held it together very well - apart from a slight widening of green eyes, as if the thought had never occurred to him. Well. It really hadn’t?! Zelda was very attractive, he always thought so, but... “Ah...no, ma’am,” he responded, clearing his throat in a slight rumble. “I’m certain my partner would leave me and take the dog, plus everything else to my name, if I ever impregnated someone.” It was an offense not so easily forgivable, at least in his opinion. Personally, he’d be out the door, but anyway, that was just him. “Sounds like a country song,” Midna quipped, flopping on the sofa. She even managed to make it look graceful, bowl in her lap, another handful of salty snack stuffed into her mouth. “Nah, nothing like that. We just wanna talk, Impa. Maybe we should all sit?” These things were best discussed while sitting, right? Less room for nervous pacing and shit. Zelda may have used Wendy as something of a crutch while she gathered her wits (and herself, physically, by wiping tea off her chin) because that assumption had been on the bottom of her ‘things Impa could possibly say’ list. And she said it with such a stoic face, she didn’t know whether to applaud the woman for an impressive introduction or to shake her head, exasperated. “Didn’t think so, considering…” Considering the toys she’d had taken a glimpse of the couple of times Midna had come over and left her bag unintended, and Impa had to face the fact that she was relieved that Zelda wouldn’t likely come home with the announcement of a bun in the oven. A pointed look between one princess of light and one princess of shadows, knowing - and she chuckled, setting down her personal tote bag to grab a beer from the fridge. And figure out what exactly was going on. “Impa, this is Jonathan,” Zelda finally managed to speak, and while Midna’s advice when it came to actually sitting down was sound and all, she couldn’t really bring herself to plop down and not squirm. A light bulb lit above her head, and she grinned wolfishly before chugging down a gulp of beer - Shocktop, something light. “You lost your pants. It was an impressive story. Thanks for not barfing all over the inside of my truck, by the way.” Crutch away, Zelda! Wendy held her friend steady, and then they all took a seat - she was near the blonde, next to her to give her a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder while Miss Darling herself sat very prim and proper, pearly spine straight as an arrow, one knee tucked over the other. Whereas Midna was sprawled, but she at least had the good grace to appear somewhat embarrassed at the look Impa tossed her way - maybe even muttered an aw, man because the jig was clearly up. Zelda’s nanny had discovered the use of strapless strapons and dildos for funsies. My, how time flew - just yesterday, little Zelda was making mud pies, wasn’t she? Jonathan sheepishly chuckled, rubbing his forehead, the tips of his fingers passing through naturally pale hair (expert dye job applied - you’re the best, dreams). “Thank you, Zelda was indeed a lifesaver that night,” he said. “I promise you that three-hundred sixty-four days a year, I’m actually quite professional. Actually, I’m....” He glanced at his elf-eared friend, because it was now or never - and they’d ease into it, “...she’s asked me to represent her. I’m a lawyer. International Law specifically, but in this case focusing on foreign business as it relates to her.” He would stick with Zelda too, even after they won her case - on staff as her lawyer at the company, whatever she wanted. She’d probably need a whole team - most large conglomerates did, to oversee legal and regulatory compliance affairs. “And I’m the paralegal for the case,” Wendy jumped in. “I’m certified and everything. I’ve got training. Already assigned myself.” Immediate silence followed, and it most certainly wasn’t the comfortable kind, but the kind not even a sharpened blade could slice into. Jonathan’s explanation - although a bit on the vague side for the sake of touching upon the waters - was damning enough, and every muscle in Impa froze in time. Though her eyes, filled with still anger rising, didn’t retract from the little girl she raised into a woman, golden hair and with miraculous pointed ears. Zelda swallowed the uncomfortable knot that always seemed to surface during tense times. “I don’t think we should keep moving and hiding while someone slandered your name and killed to take over what didn’t belong to him, Impa. And I’ve been saving up for this. For awhile.” Double shifts at the diner (before it was destroyed) and every other restaurant gig she’d been employed at, the habit of extreme couponing - cutting costs and counting pennies at every corner. She had a lump sum saved, coiled in rubber bands and stuffed away. It still wasn’t enough, but it was something. “It’s not fair. For either of us, to keep living the way we do.” Impa’s eyes moved from her to everyone else. Wendy, Jonathan, Midna. Storms brewed, volcanoes erupted in them. Looks that made it seem like they were not welcome under this very roof. “Not just you decision to make,” came a low hiss, thumb swiping residue beer from under her lip. “And it’s not something I’m going to discuss with company over, either.” “But we don’t even discuss it in private even when I ask you too,” Zelda spat back with sass, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. “So we might as well discuss it in the presence of professionals too see where we lie and what are options are - but I’m officially sick of laying down and essentially taking it like a bitch.” Crude words, but nevertheless true. For Jonathan, this work was all pro bono - making Zelda pay standard legal fees was outrageous; pro bono was done for clients with lower incomes, and for the public good. He definitely considered this for the public good - who wanted some shady mofo in charge of a millionbillion dollar energy conglomerate anyway, especially when the result of that transition was murder? Now came the time for smoothing ruffled feathers, at least a little, though judging by the way Impa was setting them all on fire with the force of her stare alone, it would not be an easy task. But he’d promised. He’d follow through and then some. They all would. “Like I told Zelda, I’m going to win this case. For her. For you too. For everyone that the bastard who turned your lives upsidedown for the sake of greed and power wronged in some way,” he insisted. “We’ll take her father’s company back legally, and he will get what he deserves and what’s coming to him.” Midna saw her cue to stop stuffing her face with popcorn and be serious for once. She stared right back at Zelda’s caretaker, with those crimson irises. “We can do this, Impa,” she said, heatedly. “It’s the right time, with the right people. Give us a chance, we’ll get it done. Maybe it’s gonna be hard sometimes, and that asshole will react to us but you know what? We’ll punch right back and we’ll keep punching until the company belongs to Zelda like it should. Look at all the badass people we’ve got in our corner - I mean, I’m totally a ninja of the night, Wendy beat up some dude with a rolling pin and Tall Drink of Water, Esquire is sleeping with Dracula and that’s all just the tip of the iceberg. Like, come on.” “Thank you. Thanks, Midna.” Jonathan rubbed his temples. “I personally don’t give a fuck about what any of you do, but if we’re going to play that game, let me bite - let me add my two cents,” Impa seethed, beer slammed down against the counter (kitchen, dining room and living room were practically one room - and fairly compact), and her arms were folded. “One, you’re a stripper.” Zelda’s jaw tightened, armed with words but her beloved nanny cut her off. “Two, Wendy’s good at scones and Pinterest, not disarming ex-military henchmen. Three, aside from your Hollywood fiction pick of a boyfriend -” Nose pointed over to Jonathan, the one who would supposedly to be shouldering the majority of the technicalities. “How long have you been a lawyer, exactly? You really think doing things ‘legally’ is going to work for a scumbug that had a team infiltrate a secured mansion and not only killed most of the staff, but also had every intention of killing a little girl for monetary gain?” It was now time for Zelda to use the pointing finger of emphasis - like she was some proper little lady trying to scold a puppy. “No. No. You don’t get to rudely simplify things like that and take everyone’s power to contribute lightly. It’s not fair. It’s better to at least try something and know we did our best, then just keep letting this happen to us.” The woman’s hands clapped together in front of her, the gesture sarcastic. “Well, guess what, princess - life isn’t fair, and we’ve known that from the start. You go down this path and there are consequences, and it’ll be written in blood. Blood from all of you. So you want to risk your home? Your friends? Your family, for our problems?” Well, that had escalated quickly. Jonathan glanced at Midna, who - at the you’re a stripper comment - had quickly flipped someone the bird until she forced herself to sit on her hands. “Yeah, you know what, Impa - I’m a fucking stripper, I take my clothes off to earn money and people gawk at my naked self,” she spat with all the heated passion of ten-thousand burning suns. “Maybe that makes me some uneducated idiot but I’m an idiot who is going to do the right thing for once and not loaf around on my ass while some douchebag rolls all in his pile of gold coins like Scrooge fucking McDuck. So do I want to risk my home, my friends, my family? Yeah, bring it on. What the fuck else do I have anyway? Oh right, nothing, because some dipshit took from me exactly what this assclown sitting high and mightily in his throne took from you. And now this - “ She gestured around her, “This is my home. My family. Better to die trying than live in fear or some crap like that.” Someone put that on a needlepoint, she was making brilliant points over here - laying it out straight. But at least Impa hadn’t stormed off, right? Wendy straightened up, rolled her shoulders, ready to speak. “If I may?” she started. “I think it’s safe to say that we understand there’s quite a bit of risk involved here. No one is expecting this to be easy and we know that you’re...” Her clear blue eyes cut toward the blonde, then back at the raging nanny, “You’re worried about Zelda, and you yourself have got quite a stake in this, and this is a huge deal for everyone. You want us to consider everything, and we will.” Her expression was steely, as she clenched ivory hands around her teacup. “I am of course willing to take risks. For my friend, for Zelda.” The young and fresh lawyer with the Hollywood fiction pick of a boyfriend (oh my god), cleared his throat once more. “He will probably get wind of what we’re doing, and will do what he thinks he needs to do to cut it off at the pass, Impa, you’re right,” Jonathan said. “Which is why we need to be careful. But Midna, ah...in her own way...has made a point, and that’s...this is home. Not just the place, but the people. And that’s of course something to fight for.” Midna was spot on, even Zelda had to give her a mental gesture of kudos - while Impa bit the inside of her cheek, the realization that, perhaps, her response was a bit rash a dreadful reality. No, she didn’t mean to make it personal, not like that, she liked the redhead, the little bitch was a member of this discombobulated family. But this issue was deeply personal, the very concept of stirring the attention of those she so strategically avoided rattling her very bones - as if everything she’s done, everything she’d continue to do for the sake of keeping the child entrusted to her alive would go to waste. Impa dragged a hand down her face. Ganged up on all sides, the four of them, and it was instinct to protect. Going forth with this horseshit meant putting them in the sight of crosshairs and while their abilities (and vampiric beaux) were, in hindsight, much appreciated, sometimes there wasn’t really much someone could do with a bullet piercing them and ending things quick. Light’s out, no taking something like that back. She wouldn’t - coudn’t - stand innocent kids (everyone was a kid to her, sorry guys) potentially spilling blood for this. “I’ve worked with people like this,” she said darkly, irises staring at them so intensely that it really was as if she was trying to set something ablaze by sheer will alone. “Money, power, it gets them muscle, it gets them an army, and this won’t end well. I appreciate your concern, but you -” A hand interrupted the woman’s sentence, <>finally</i>, so Zelda could add her own two cents, officially decided. “Look. Whether you help us or not, I’m done. I’ve made the decision myself, that we’re doing this - and it’ll be easier if you’re with us. If you want to go against this, then…” There was a constriction in her chest she felt, almost like her throat was closing in too, body trying to stop the words that were coming out of her mouth but pure will proved otherwise. “I can go. We can carry on separately, and I will do my best to protect you just like you protected me. And regardless of your decision, I - we - will get your name cleared at the very least, because I don’t care about the money. I don’t care about this stupid company - I just care about justice for you, and my father. So consider this a courtesy, Impa, not a request. Take it or leave it.” It was four against one, but Jonathan hoped that Impa would be on their side too - though Zelda was correct, her name would be cleared regardless. That he could promise, iron-clad. “And also to consider...this case will garner a lot of media coverage,” he spoke quite frankly. “This man, hiding in the shadows? Hiding behind the hope that you two are dead? He won’t get to do that anymore. Every move will be watched. He’s finally going to be held accountable for what he’s done - and it’s our job, right now, to gather the evidence against him which we will do. Have been doing. I don’t want you to live in fear anymore,” he added. “Looking over your shoulders. I want...more for you both. I’m going to do everything I can, to give you more than that.” Man, Midna needed a fucking drink. She huffed, limbs folding across her chest, while Wendy reached over and patted Zelda’s back, an arm going across her shoulders. “We all want more for you, and oh, you don’t need to go, Zelda,” she insisted. “I’m sure it won’t come to that. Right, Impa?” Look at those big blue eyes on Miss Darling! There really was no budging on this, was there? Impa was coming to that conclusion as much as she wanted to raise her voice, argue against them - all four of them, but it was just one voice against a team of youngins’ determined to ‘do the right thing.’ Sometimes the right thing and the smart thing were two entirely different concepts. Unfortunately. Still, Impa wasn’t happy. That was clear. And the glower delivered was weary. Defeated. “Do what you want,” she finally told them. “But it’ll be another mess I have to clean up.” It wasn’t a ‘fuck yes let’s do this’ (which Zelda hadn’t realistically expected) but it wasn’t a ‘I’m done with all of you’ either, which. Well. Wasn’t a terrible response. “Impla, please -” “Stop,” she cut her off, picked up her ring of keys and that totebag she dropped. “It’s too crowded in here.” It was outright suffocating, and she didn’t think she could keep her temper checked surrounded by Zelda’s bright-eyed friends. “I’ll be back later.” Then she left and at the doorway left wide open, the blonde stood, hands on her hips, face torn but, ultimately, resolute. Impa wasn’t leaving, neither was she, that much she knew but the waters were still stormy, unpredictable. It was a babystep. But a step. “That went...better than I thought it would.” Jonathan quirked a brow at the declaration - well, that was good news. Though he also didn’t want to picture how Zelda originally believed things would go - besides chucking foreign objects at skulls, that is. “I think we knew she wasn’t going to sign up to begin the laborious process of reviewing documents,” he swiped his thumb over a particularly pounding headache of a spot right over olive eyes. “But...I also think she’ll come around, Zelda. It’s the unknown, that’s all. No one likes the unknown, especially after years of doing one thing.” Like running, and hiding, and erasing all trace of your existence so criminal bloodhounds couldn’t sniff you out - yes, they were all taking many risks. But important ones. Ones that were meant to be taken, and had to be. “Maaaan, at least she left the stash?” Midna pointed out. Though maybe they shouldn’t smoke it now. That would just piss off Impa more, and no one needed that. She scooted closer and hugged Zelda (who was currently being sandwiched) with one arm. “You can come home with me tonight? Stay at my place, give you and Impa some time to cool down?” Aside from the possible scenario of things breaking (which was, again, what she originally thought would happen), deep down Zelda knew Impa wouldn’t let them go about this alone, not at all. She’d been her caretaker in Hyrule; the main reason why Ganon hadn’t had a chance to lay a finger on her - she’d taken a horse, the child princess and galloped into the raining night, lost in the hidden crevices of Hyrule for seven years until Link awoke from his stasis. She and Impa were in this together from the very beginning - and they’d be together until the very end. Like mother and child, and now with help. Letting out a sigh, the whoosh of air made Zelda feel like she was deflating, knotting tension undone and draining from her muscles. No, they probably shouldn’t touch that stash. Impa would go straight to it when she came back, and perhaps it was best she wasn’t here. Gave them both some space to think about things and touch upon the subject less heatedly. “Yeah,” she told Midna, pecking her cheek with a kiss. Jonathan was right, though. It was the unknown. They had an idea of what could possibly happen but until they started taking official steps, they wouldn’t know for certain. And Impa was right too. About the blood, the risks, and the reality of that weighed on her like anvils on her shoulders. “She won’t let us do it alone. She might not necessarily like it - and who could really blame her - but…” A deep breath. “Impa’s a fighter. She wants things to be right again, but she’s just afraid of what it could cost.” “Of course,” Wendy said, fingers stroking over Zelda’s hair to soothe - it always worked for her, and though they weren’t children anymore (and about the same age) that still didn’t mean British Mother Hen wouldn’t fuss. Even if all she was good at was Pinterest and scones. “Those are deep-seated fears, because of what she went through to keep you safe. To keep you alive. They won’t dissipate overnight but I do think you’re right, they won’t be enough to prevent her from helping either.” Maybe Midna had flipped the bird five minutes ago, but she had to agree. Built-like-a-brick-shithouse Impa would have their backs, whether she hissed and grumbled about it or not. “She wants what’s best for you, Z, wants you to be happy,” the ex-princess stated as she flopped back on the sofa. “Like any mom would. At the end of the day she’s family and family fights for family - as we all know. That’s what we’re all doing for each other.” A pause, and she had to laugh. “Yep. We’re all morons.” To go up against that guy? Complete and utter dipshits. But would they back down? Hell no. Sometimes the underdog defied the odds. Just you wait. All of it was some twisted parallel to the dreams, like her life had been defined by the events that happened in Hyrule. Destiny, perhaps, but that Zelda there had every intention to change the course of time and so did she. Morons was absolutely right, no disputing that, and she gave Wendy’s arm a grateful squeeze - she always did know the right things to say to quell a mess of broken nerves, didn’t she? “And I did promise you guys a treat after this,” Zelda quipped, and there wouldn’t be any room for an argument - if they were willing to put themselves on the line to lock a selfish murdering assbag behind bars for her, for Impa, for the sake of what’s right - then the least she could do was buy them drinks. “It’s a start of a very long road of gratitude for all this, and I think we could all use a glass of something strong.” Then after that, paperwork. |