What are you doing New Year's Eve?

[takecourage]

They step off the tram and walk up to the lodge together and Alex...really hadn't been prepared for how beautiful it all is. She's glad she went with the fancier dress now, velvet, off the shoulder, cut below the knee and paired with spike black heels with straps that wrap around her ankles. She'd have felt underdresssed in anything else.

She blows out a breath and, for a moment, she almost shrinks behind Darlington, trusting him to protect her from the unknown.

"I...don't think I'm going to fit in here," she says.

Comments

[takecourage]

"Of course Black Elm has a ballroom," she says, and she actually does laugh at that, rolling her eyes at him fondly. She sips her champagne, her eyes tracking the movement of a gray dressed head to toe in skiing gear, poles tucked under her arm.

[more_magic]

Maybe I'll show you, he nearly says, but thinks better of it. Even if they could get to Black Elm from here, he might not be around to do so; still stuck in Spain, on some errand for Sandow or the Lethe board or chasing his own singleminded theory. He doesn't let himself consider the possibility that even if he is back home, the two of them might no longer have the kind of easy rapport that would've made him want to open up more of his world--more of his home and his heart--to her. That's not a thought he needs tonight.

Instead, he merely takes a sip of his own champagne, watching the other partygoers in silence along with Alex. She'd almost seemed to be scanning the crowd, somehow both watchful and idle, but after a minute Darlington realizes she's following the path of something specific--and something he can't see. A Gray, then, drawn to the lively brightness of the party, and though he knows the dangerous stakes of the elixir, for a moment he almost wishes he had a dose of the Bullet available, something that would sate his curiosity and let him see who the uninvited guest might be.

"If it becomes...untenable," he says, looking over at Alex, "we can go somewhere smaller, or quieter. Wherever's better."

[takecourage]

"It's okay," she says, making a conscious effort not to chug her champagne, making herself take a more civilised sip. "There's a lot of them, but they don't look that interested in me right now. And we're both prepared if they do, so..." She flashes him a smile. "You don't have to feel like you have to look after me the whole time, Darlington. I survived a long time without you.''

[more_magic]

"I know," he says, uncertain for a moment which part of that he's referring to. Maybe all of it, in one way or another. Again, he feels that short twinge of regret, that sense Lethe had failed her--and by extension, that he had as well, though when she'd first come to their attention he'd been as ignorant as Alex about its existence. "I just wanted to make the offer."

He answers her smile with one of his own, pushing back that regret just like he had his earlier thoughts about the future--it's not the night for this, either, and maybe never would be. A server stops with another full tray, stuffed mushroom caps and tiny egg and spinach quiches, and Darlington takes one of each for himself.

[takecourage]

"I appreciate it," she says, touching his arm lightly with her free hand. "I really do." The guy with the tray arrives and Alex inspects both things before taking one of each. She sniffs the mushroom dubiously before she pops it into her mouth.

"Better than it looked," she mumbles.

[more_magic]

It's so without pretense that there's something entirely charming in it. Alex wolfs down that mushroom and mumbles out her lackluster verdict, and Darlington has to work hard not to grin. He eats his own with slightly more poise, a considering expression on his face for a moment afterwards. "You're not wrong," he says. "The quiche isn't bad, though."

[takecourage]

Alex looks slightly more dubious of the quiche than she did of the mushroom, but she eats it anyway, a pleasantly surprised look blossoming on her face as she chews.

"Not bad," she says, washing it down with champagne. "I could get used to this kind of party."

[more_magic]

"What did I tell you?" he says, smiling as he watches the transformation of her features--from surprise to pleasure, followed briefly by something that looks almost like contentment just before she takes another swig of her champagne. "I knew you'd be fine."

Taking another drink, he glances towards the picture windows on the far wall, at the snow on the ground just outside and the lights of the city glittering far beyond. "From what I've heard, it seems parties like these are regular occurrences," he says, "so you may yet get your chance."

[takecourage]

Maybe it really will be possible to be someone else here. Someone different. Someone who's life ies really in her own hands and not just a series of frantic reactions. She'll still miss Hellie, but maybe she can let all of the guilt go, like snow melting into the air. She leans against him slightly.

"I heard that sometimes it gets dangerous," she says. "Weird shit."

[more_magic]

"Pity we don't have any experience with that," he quips. Alex leans against him, the pressure of her body light but noticeable, and Darlington glances down at her, his arm coming to rest unthinkingly around her waist. If he thinks about how well she fits, how well they both do, it's a thought that's there and gone before he can acknowledge it.

"I'd heard the same," he admits. "And then there was that effigy near City Hall. Apparently they burn one every year. I tried to ask why, but..." He smirks, shrugging one shoulder. "The answers were less than satisfactory."

[takecourage]

She should move, and she knows that, but it feels so comfortable standing against him like that and, for a moment, she wants to pretend to be a girl who belongs there.

"If anyone can cope with weird shit, it's us, right?" she says, looking up at him. "I can't imagine how frustrated you must be by not being able to get answers."

[more_magic]

"We may not have a monopoly on it," he concedes, before taking another sip of champagne, "but we've seen enough to be prepared, I think." The elements of the uncanny here, whatever they are, won't be quite the same as the things he'd seen and learned during his time at Yale, but Darlington can't imagine them being so different as to be wholly insurmountable. It was just another mystery for him to discover, new pools and eddies to map and trace, finding out the flow of Darrow's magic.

His pastures may have changed, but he was still a shepherd of Lethe.

For a moment, he searches her tone for something other than sympathy--a bit of her old irritation, maybe, or that reckless scorn that had frustrated him so much back home. There's none of it now, and Darlington's privately ashamed at how much that surprises him. "It's more annoying than I expected," he admits. "Apparently that's the way of the...natives here. The ones who believed they've always lived in Darrow, and have no need to question otherwise."

[takecourage]

"You love a mystery, though. You'll be in your element." A gray moves into her field of vision, a young man who looks like he's been savaged, bite marks on his face and his bare arms. There's so much blood and Alice recoils, backing further into the corner that they're standing in. "How old do you think this place is?" she asks, gulping champagne.

[more_magic]

"I don't know whether to be flattered or embarrassed you've pegged me so accurately, Stern," he says, smirking as he swaps his empty champagne flute for a full one, murmuring a thanks to the server before she turns away. He'd already been thinking along those lines--of course he had, he couldn't do anything but--and the idea had been more of an anchor over the last week than he'd entirely expected.

He might have said more, but he feels her go rigid beneath the hand still at her hip, then pull away, her eyes wide. His hand goes to the pocket of his suit jacket, feeling for one of the vials of grave dirt he'd provisioned himself with before they left the apartment, but he doesn't take it out quite yet. After only a moment, she breaks eye contact with whatever or whoever she's seen and keeps talking, and Darlington's glad to provide what distraction he can. "Depends who you ask, I'd imagine," he says, casting the briefest glance up at the wood beams and sloped ceiling above them.

"It looks...I'd guess late nineteen-twenties, possibly early thirties from the architecture? But I talked to someone earlier who said most of the city didn't exist past eight years ago, so I'm not sure how much of that we can trust."

[takecourage]

"There are a lot of Grays here," she says, leaning into his side again, unspeakably grateful when she notices how he immediately goes for his pocket. "And none of them look like they died in their sleep."

[more_magic]

"No, that would be simple, wouldn't it?" he mutters, his arm going around Alex again, keeping her tucked at his side. "If they were all ones we could send on their way with something as banal as a mortuary ad." He knows he's not going to see anything, but Darlington looks around anyway, his blue eyes seeking some evidence of something amiss.

"We should go," he says. All at once, it's the only thing he wants; to get her out, to keep her safe. Though there's nothing funny in it, his mouth quirks up for a moment as he looks at her. "I can probably get us a room, if you can stand me acting like an asshole for five minutes."

[takecourage]

His arm goes around her and, instantly, she feels safer, more solid. He looks down at her and, a moment a later, she nods.

"Take it away, asshole." She manages a wan smile.

[more_magic]

The last time he'd seen her anything like this, drawn and shaken and somehow smaller than she usually appears, had been in the aftermath of Aurelian's first ritual, that near-disaster the two of them had only managed to avert at practically the last possible second. Then, he'd been furious with her and with himself, seething quietly until they'd gotten back to Il Bastone; now, feeling the faint tremble that goes through her as they move towards the front, he lets the memory of that irritation fuel him for something like a reprise of the performance he'd given Zelinski and the Emperor that night.

Hopefully, the kid behind the Kagura front desk--freckled and ash blond, Arnold etched on the shiny silver name badge affixed to his uniform vest--will be just as easy to intimidate, if not more so.

Darlington starts out easy and cordial, providing his last name and saying they'd like to check in, growing confused when no such reservation appears--and then, slowly, more and more irate. "I made these reservations the day you opened for the season, Arnold," he says with as much blue-blooded indignation as he can muster. "Is it the hotel's policy to simply drop reservations made in good faith when they're no longer convenient?"

"What? N-no, Mr. Arlington," the kid stutters out, frantically tapping at the computer behind the desk. "We just don't have--"

"That excuse is getting old, Arnold. Try another." One arm still wrapped around Alex's waist, he drums the fingers of his other hand along the wood top of the counter in an impatient, entitled rhythm. "Or maybe you'd like to get your manager, and I can tell him how you lost a booking made weeks in advance, hmm?"

"No, please, we can...I'm looking, the system's just..." Arnold's mouth lifts in a nervous, involuntary little smile, and the sight of it reminds him of something his father had done and said out at dinner, one of the times his parents had been up to glean another check from the Arlington coffers. Their server had screwed up...something, he couldn't even remember what, and when that same kind of nervous and unintended smile flickered across the girl's face, Darlington's father had pounced.

He'd loathed him for it then, but Darlington thinks he can use it now.

"I'm so glad," he says, his voice all cold fury, "that this situation is amusing to you. Because it's certainly not to either of us." He can't look at Alex, almost afraid he might start laughing if he does, but he squeezes her a little tighter just for a moment. "Unforgivable."

"I'm not, it's not funny, I didn't mean to...here! We have an available room on the w-west wing, I'll..." Arnold trails off into a flustered silence, booking them into a room and handing the key over with shaking hands. "Here, sir, a-and I'll have a bottle of champagne sent up to the room. Complimentary. With our apologies for the error."

"You do that." He pockets the key and turns away, leading Alex towards the elevator as quickly as he can manage--mostly for her sake, but if he lets this entitled facade slip an inch, Darlington knows it had better be well out of poor Arnold's sight.

[takecourage]

Alex has seen a version of this routine before, after her first ritual at Aurelian, when she'd been so frightened and fucked up so badly. Then, his cold fury had, at least in part, been directed at her whereas now she can just stand back and watch it happen. It occurs to her to feel guilty, for a moment - it's not Arnold's fault, obviously, but she's just so pathetically grateful. And, honestly, Daniel Tabor Arlington V in full flow is something to be admired. She stands silent at his side and, when he finally wheels her towards the elevator, she lets out a shaky breath. She manages to hold herself together until the elevator doors close and then she all but collapses into a heap of slightly hysterical giggles.

"Holy shit."

[more_magic]

The doors close and Alex breaks, sagging against him as she laughs, and Darlington's not far behind, his shoulders shaking with the force of his own relieved and delighted mirth. "Christ, I'm an awful person, Stern," he sighs, leaning against the back wall of the elevator. "Remind me to leave a tip or something for that poor kid before we go."

For as bad as he feels, his relief that it had worked more than makes up for it. They're one step closer to someplace smaller and safer, more easily warded for the night with the supplies they'd brought with them. Though it won't be the same as the bright and festive party still in full swing downstairs, it'll be theirs.

They exit the elevator when it stops and find their room, large and a little rustic, with what promises to be a gorgeous view of the mountain peak just outside when the morning comes. It's lovely, but Darlington only takes a moment to admire it before he turns his focus back to Alex. "I'll just put up something temporary for the night," he says, faint concern still present behind his eyes as he looks at her. "Though equally as safe."

[takecourage]

"You're fucking terrible," she says. "I mean, I've been on the receiving of you being pissed off, but that...that was something else." She straightens up, smoothing her hair back into place with her fingers, straightening the line of her dress. When she walks into the room, Alex lets out a low whistle. She's literally never been in a hotel room like this in her life. She wanders over to the window, staring out at the mountain, then looking down to the patio below, the grays so numerous that, from above, they look like a flood.

She glances back over her shoulder.

"Yes, please," she says. Until she started spending time in warded places, she didn't realise how noisy her life was most of the time.

[more_magic]

She stands there, her hair flowing dark and straight over the pale curve of her shoulder, and the sight is more striking than he ever could have imagined. "Right away," he murmurs, taking one of the chalks of ash he'd bought a few days ago out of his jacket pocket as he turns towards the door.

He draws the usual marks of protection along the jamb and lintel, strengthening them with scatterings of grave dirt from the vials they'd brought, then does the same to the window. They'll wipe them away in the morning, clean up the traces like they always had at home, but for tonight they'll be safe within their bounds. As he works, he can't help glancing occasionally at Alex, hoping to see some kind of relaxation in the tense line of her posture.

[takecourage]

Alex's watches him work on the door in the reflection in the window, shifting out of the way when he needs to get to the full width of the window. As he works, the grays that had followed them in leak out of the room until it's entirely quiet, entirely still. Alex kicks off her shoes and sits down on the bed, her legs tucked to one side of her. She lets out a long, slow breath. It's so quiet. It feels like being bathed in golden light.

[more_magic]

Darlington draws the last sigil, shakes out the last little pile of dirt into the corner of the windowsill, and then it's done. Though he's not affected by their protection in the same way, and would never have cause to be, even he can feel his pulse slow a fraction and the faint tightness in his chest ease to nothing. Putting the nub of chalk back in his pocket, he goes to where Alex is curled on the bed, the skirt of her dress spread out around her.

For a moment, he almost reaches out--to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, or curve his hand along her cheek, or to do something else entirely.

"Better?" he asks instead, settling into a slightly overstuffed armchair nearby, his eyes still on her as she takes those slow and steady breaths.

[takecourage]

Alex nods, her ink dark eyes wide and watchful for a long moment before she smiles. She's not sure that anyone has ever looked at her in the particular way that Darlington does; she's not sure that she always likes feeling so seen.

"I'm sorry," she says. "I know this...isn't how you planned New Year's going."