<aside> ✨ NPCs: Jastira Presphine, Gemma Vario, Clove, Morrow Graeme, Zeslya, Lovey, Eevie Orsino, Caecilius, Jenny, Trinity, Nakia

TWs: alcohol

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Life had been uneasy- but it was finally starting to feel like life again. For the longest time, living had felt like something out of reach- stolen breaths unable to reach the bottom of her lungs, smiles too stiff to spread to the corners of her mouth- but tonight Jastira was determined to feel something different. And by feel something different she meant feel anything, really. That would be different.

This ambition, feeling, was what had lead Jastira to agree to Gemma’s invitation in the first place. Gemma had been so used to her invitations being rejected without a thought that when Jastira finally accepted, Gemma couldn’t help but briefly wonder if Synpira (or Nakia) went out of their way to instruct Jastira to be less of a buzzkill. Gemma would have, she resolved, if she was Guildmaster. Some people were too hot to be that sad all of the time without causing serious morale issues. No matter- one night out with Gemma and Clove could cure any soul’s ailment, of that much Gemma was confident. Gemma had even gone above and beyond: reserving a pool table for the night at her favorite haunt, making Kiran change the drink special to something  more to Jastira’s liking, and strictly instructing Clove that she could not try her hand at seducing Jastira. The last point was probably the most important if this evening was going to be a hit, Gemma knew this. As much as Gemma adored Clove, her assassin nature stretched well beyond the battlefield. If Synpira was a snake, Clove was a spider, and Gemma wanted Jastira to have a single evening where she wasn’t prey.

“I wasn’t planning on it.” Clove defends herself, rolling her eyes in the process.  “She’s my apprentice right now. Besides, seems a bit fragile for me, no?”

They make eye contact across the pool table. Clove loves to hear the sound of women shattering- and they both know it. A selfish part of Gemma keeps her eyes on Clove’s hands as she rolls up the sleeves of the button up shirt she’s wearing, before grabbing the pool cue resting on the table. Gemma doesn’t need to notice the smile tugging on the corner of Clove’s lips to know that she’s lying.

“Clove, I’m serious. She needs friends, and—“ Gemma pauses for a moment, but there’s only one real piece of leverage she has. “And you don’t know if Synpira’s decided that Jastira is hers and hers alone yet.”

Clove sneers, “Do you really think she’d take her as a consort? I don’t get the obsession, truly.” Clove pauses to line up the first break shot of the evening, and they settle into their easy routine. Pool and talking about women, more of the same.

“Seriously,” Clove continues.“I’m her trainer right now, and I’m telling you I don’t get it. Obviously I can’t speak to her healing abilities, but I haven’t heard of a Fidelity member whose hand shakes every time they pick up a dagger.”

Clove laughs at this, and Gemma unthinkingly laughs along- a gut reaction to blood in the water. It’s followed by a pang of worry: if Clove and Synpira were in charge of fixing that, it would be fixed soon. No doubt about it.

“Maybe this will be good for her, then,” Gemma offers. “Give her some liquid courage for dealing with you.”

“That’d have to be a lot of booze,” Clove’s distaste for Jastira is clearly written on her face, and Gemma groans.  “Come on, you think I like this? Being handed some innocent Exubaphax girl and having to strip her of all innocence and goodwill before I can actually teach her anything?”

“Yes,” Gemma says curtly. “I think you love that.”

Clove grins, and wordlessly sinks another ball.

“No, you were right! You should get to keep any teeth you knock out during the match- that referee had it out for you.”

Morrow Graeme’s favorite place to be was in the afterglow of a derby match.  Despite turning down Eevie’s every invitation to join the team, Morrow was still front row with Caecilius during every game. Together they would holler and scream from the crowd, sell merch during halftimes, haul equipment for bruised teammates post match- this was her place in the family. Tonight, it was piling up in their signature corner booth at Harlot’s- the bar underneath the derby girl’s communal apartment. Harlots was run by Jenny’s older brother, and let the derby girls live in the house above the bar in exchange for picking up shifts. All in all- it worked well. Kiran needed bartenders, and the derby girls needed a landlord who didn’t care if they had skating practice in the living room.

Song and Falraa had already disappeared twenty minutes ago, probably trying to take advantage of the few and far moments where the apartment was empty. Zeslya was behind the bar, on shift despite the fact that she was now sporting a shiny black eye from the night’s earlier matches. Lovey could be seen skating around the bar, picking up patrons’s empty drinks and complimenting everyone’s outfits. That left Morrow drinking mead with Eevie, Caecilius, Jenny, and Trinity. Caecilius was posted up in the middle of the booth like it was his bachelorette party, recanting a particular part of the match with a great deal of hand gestures and animation. Eevie and Jenny were a captive audience, despite the fact that Jenny was taking up a whole half of the booth- laid out with her left foot elevated, ice packs piled on to stave off some post-match wound. Maybe Morrow could steal some extra healing salves from Crovolon tomorrow, she considers. If not, Jenny would be stuck healing the old fashioned way. While stuck in her own contemplations, Morrow’s eyes drift over to Trinity, whose eyes seemed to be glued to something across the room.

“Wait, isn’t mead the Tuesday drink?” Jenny asks suddenly, and Morrow is pulled from her reverie.

“You’re right, it is.” Trinity says slowly, bringing her own mead to her lips. Now, Morrow is sure, her gaze is locked on someone across the bar.

“Oh, yeah. I asked Kiran about that…” Eevie says absentmindedly, head still clearly at the earlier match. “He said he changed it as a favor to a regular? Her name sounded familiar. Uh, Gemma something.”