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To be entirely honest, Ailani Ka’ana’ana prefers her own company over the plethora of naiads and dryads and everyone else. Her mother had decided to throw a birthday party for her little sister tonight, and she’d been partying with everyone else for a solid hour or two. Ailani loves Anela – she really, really does – but she isn’t good with people. She’ll stumble her way through a conversation or two, sure, but people cast her sidelong glances when they think she isn’t looking at them. But she knows what they all think of her.
This isn’t the first party Ailani’s been to. Her mother has always been keen on these family gatherings despite the infighting that arises sooner or later, and her mother doesn’t particularly feel like stopping when Ailani has directly disobeyed her. How does that old saying go again? Ah, right: you can’t help who you fall for. Honestly, this isn’t fair. This isn’t right. In the Underworld, the woman to whom her heart belongs operates primarily on the principles of fairness and morality; her mother and Jill remain enemies, two sides of a chessboard, and Ailani is the only matter they somewhat agree on.
What’s the worst that can happen at this point? Ailani’s already been reprimanded more than once for marrying Jill, and her mother’s been the scourge of the earth for the past six months. So, she decides to be a little rebellious. She kicked off her heels and scaled the largest tree she could find about five minutes ago, not caring if her pristine white dress ripped or dirtied. It wasn’t like she didn’t have other dresses to wear – and besides, she’d much rather be with her beautiful wife right now.
That’s another priority Ailani’s got to tackle at some point or another. Her outfits are all… well, pretty and nice. And she likes being pretty and nice, don’t get her wrong – but no one will ever take her seriously if they see her as pretty and nice but nothing more, and she wants to be a good queen. She wants to be a good wife, too. Ailani’s never really had anyone in that way before – her mother is strict with her, and dating had been out of the question entirely – so she has no idea if she’s good at it, but Jill seems to think she is. She’s trying, though, and that has to count for something.
Anyway, Ailani has nothing to do with her hands, and she needs a good excuse for why she’s out here instead of in there. Dirt has crept under her fingernails, which she’d painted a soft shade of pink before she came back up top. The polish is already chipping, to and she doesn’t see the use in reapplying it when she’ll end up peeling it all off in the end. She reaches out towards a few of the small buds on the tree, and within seconds, they’re opening up to her. They’re whispering her name, sharing their stories with her, and vibrant flowers surround her after a minute or two.
Ailani’s head lacks adornment that she’d become accustomed to. The crown of the Underworld, weighted with precious metals embedded in solid gold, did not suit her, and perhaps it never would. Still, she’s usually got some sort of adornment in her hair — though she’s trying to figure out how to get her flowers to stay alive down there. The garden Ailani’s started almost always dies when she leaves for the spring, but then again, it’s sort of nice to start fresh every time she comes back. Uproot the weeds, lace the ground with new blossoms.
She carefully picks a few of the fully grown flowers off their stems. This type of crown has always been welcomed on Ailani’s head — she’s known how to make them since she was a little girl, and she won’t kick the habit now. Of course, the flowers aren’t exactly the ones she’d been wanting. Red carnations only bloom when Jill sings to her, a symbol of their love, yet her wife is toiling down below at the moment. The soft pink gerbera daisies and coral hibiscus flowers are more than sufficient, though, and she begins weaving them together.
With one of the daisies in her hand, Ailani begins plucking at the petals. She doesn’t need to do that to make a flower crown, but the old superstition is a favorite of hers. She loves me not, she loves me. She loves me, she loves me not. They float down, down, down to the ground, the wind sweeping them up and creating a painting of color. If the flowers’ premonition is true, she can’t help but feel unmatched exuberance. After all, Jill Valentine cares for her in a way no one up top truly does. Jill Valentine sees her as a real person instead of a silly girlchild, and for that reason, she will always adore her.
Ailani ends on she loves me, all the petals gone now, and a soft smile makes its way onto her face. The beautiful shade of pink matches the colors of the sky, the sun slowly settling into its place as the moon comes up. Whichever way the wind blows, she knows that somewhere in the world, she is loved.
Lani’s doubled over the toilet right now, and she’s doing her best not to pass out after vomiting up almost all the liquor in her stomach. She’s had alcohol before — she isn’t a child , and social drinking isn’t an unfamiliar concept — but never to this extent. Jill wants to show off her beautiful wife to the array of other gods, and the thought of it is… sweet, honestly. Jill wants to show them all that her wife is just as beautiful, if not more so, down here as she is up top. But socializing isn’t exactly her thing, and drinking is an easy way to get out of conversation. All it takes is raising the cup to her lips when she has nothing else to say and an easy smile to turn the awkwardness of each encounter away from her.
Her mama refuses to call her Lani when she’s down here, and it’s… frustrating, to say the least. Why can’t anyone ever respect her wishes? Why can’t anyone ever see her as more than a silly, frivolous girl? She’s queen, same way a few of the other gods are, and she treats that duty with no small amount of honor. Lani leads this domain as much as Jill, and her change in name only represents that. Lani deserves to be recognized as she is down here, yet no one seems to do that except her wife. Has all of her poring over legal books been for naught? She’s learned the rules here, and she is doing her best to be a fair ruler.
Still, all Lani can think about right now is how ridiculously dizzy she feels. Black spots dot her vision, and she closes her eyes tightly in the hopes it’ll go away. It’s strange, honestly, how putting something so good in her body can feel so awful now, and how puking it out — something so awful — can feel so good now. No one’s here to pull her thick black hair off of her neck, and she’s certain it’s covered in disgusting vomit. Everyone finds this domain repulsive — is Lani herself repulsive? Her fingers are pale white as she grips at the edges of the porcelain god, and she’s panting for breath, so pained and exhausted is she.
There’s a knock at the door, and she sits up a little straighter. Her knees are folded beneath her, and she can see her thigh-high black socks beneath her rich, crimson red dress. The outfit isn’t her most formal, and her wreath of black flowers has been cast to the side for the time being. Lani doesn’t want to ruin any of this for her wife, and if she admits to being sick, whoever’s at the door will likely scorn her. She says nothing for the time being, and she waits for the echoing of footsteps down the hall. How have they even found her, anyway? These are Lani’s private chambers, and her brown eyes flicker over to the door.
“Lani? Are you doing okay?” Jill herself asks, and Lani lets out a sigh of relief. Her face flushes hot — she hadn’t even excused herself from the party properly, and her wife is probably worried sick about her. She’s supposed to be the center of attention tonight, and Lani simply slipped out of the room without so much as a word to anyone. Stupid, stupid! She should’ve said something! “Lani?”
“I’m fine, puuwai, ” Lani murmurs. Her words slur together, and she leans her head against the closed lid of the toilet seat. She’s weeping for no reason at all, and she doesn’t even know when it started. Stars, she feels awful. Part of her wants to get up and unlock the door for her wife, but Lani doesn’t know if her legs will hold steady enough for her not to collapse onto the icy tile. “I’m just not feeling the best, that’s all.”
“Lani, you know you can tell me anything, right?” Jill isn’t trying to guilt trip her, but she feels guilty regardless. She should’ve just told her wife that she doesn’t like parties all that much, but she’d been so excited for this, so Lani hadn’t said a word. “Can I come in?”
“Um, if you wanna.”
Jill tries to open the door, and the lock clicks in place. Lani’s left her own copy of the key on the bathroom counter, yet her wife should have her own version of the key. It’s sweet that she’s willing to respect her privacy, but there’s no way that Lani can get up right now. Her head pounds, and Jill’s voice has sounded far away for the entire time, like she’s behind the glass in an aquarium. Will her wife be humiliated when she sees what’s become of Lani tonight? Probably. But she doesn’t seem to care very much about what others think of her, a skill Lani greatly yearns for. She’s way too obsessed with how she’s perceived even when she probably shouldn’t be, and she doesn’t know how to be as nonchalant about all of it.
“Can you let me in?”
Lani opens her eyes once again, groaning in agony. Her stomach is empty yet she still feels sick, she’s slightly lightheaded, and she doesn’t know if she’s going to make it out of the bathroom tonight. Can you let me in? It’s a question that’s kinder than she deserves — Jill won’t just barge in if she’s uncomfortable with that. It’s always about her needs and her comfort down here, whereas up above — when she’s Ailani, not simply Lani — she’s tossed to the side without so much as another thought. She shakes her head no, and she blinks sluggishly, but then she realizes that Jill can’t see through the door, and she laughs to herself.
“Do you have the spare key? I don’t feel well enough to get up right now, sorry,” she murmurs. “If not, then that’s fine. I’ll probably be out in a few minutes, so you really shouldn’t worry about me.”
“It’s kind of my job to worry about you. You’re my wife.”
Lani smiles at the comment, except Jill’s voice is getting farther and farther away. She feels far worse than she ever has, and she can’t imagine ever wanting to drink like that again. Her dress is ripped at the knees from when she’d slid to the ground a little too hard, and dried blood can be seen through the hole. She’s doing her best to stay awake, but she rests her head on her hands, which she’s folded atop the lid of the toilet seat. This is the worst she’s felt in maybe forever, yet Lani’s doing her best to put on a brave face for her wife’s sake. Black spots overtake her vision eventually, however, and she allows herself to succumb to the darkness. This is where she belongs. This is where she lives. Lani is queen of all the land, and she has no problem becoming one with it, even now.
Lani used to tell herself she wasn’t a dog person. She knows now that that’s a boldfaced lie, for she’s resting her head on the soft, yet large, body of Cerberus. He’s gotten so big since she last saw him, though she suspects that’s partially due to Jill’s tendency to feed him people-food. (Can hellhounds safely consume ambrosia? Cerberus had been made immortal when she and Chris had first dragged him down here from the New York City pound, and as such, she suspects he can’t eat regular dog food.) Regardless, he’s super sweet — at least when he’s not guarding the Underworld — and he’s good company to have, even when she’s drunk.
“You’re such an angel,” she coos. She scratches the middle head behind the ears, and Cerberus’ tail begins excitedly thumping against the floor. His fur is warm, though she’s partially worried about hurting him somehow by laying against his body like this. Lani never grew up with any pets; Cerberus isn’t exactly a typical pet, for the record, but she’s frightened regardless. “Were you a good boy today?”
Cerberus, in reply, gives a bark. The other two heads echo it, and she smiles. She can understand how mortals would be afraid of him, with his size and three heads and deep growl, but when they’re laying on the floor like this, it’s hard to imagine. Lani really wishes she had three hands to pet all three of his heads, or at least someone else’s company, but Jill’s locked herself in her office for one reason or another. That’s all she ever seems to do these days, and conversation? Forget about it. Lani has to push to get anything out of her that’s not a one word answer or an argument.
“I’m really glad to hear that.” The head to the left gives Lani a big, sloppy kiss, and she giggles. Dog slobber isn’t the most appealing to everyone, but Lani’s not exactly all about maintaining appearances. She’s still got some dirt under her broken nails from when she’d been working at her garden this morning, and she doesn’t feel like avoiding her dog’s company just because it’s the most regal thing to do. On the bright side, Jill’s put at least a little effort into the garden since she left last cycle, and it’s clear that it’s finally beginning to thrive because they’ve both put time and hard work into it. “You really need to stay out of the garden, though. I can’t have you eating the flowers. It’s not good for you, and it’s upsetting when everything I’ve done goes to waste.”
Cerberus’ right head tries to tilt, both curious and ashamed, but the other heads don’t follow suit, and they end up bumping into each other. If Lani were slightly more sober, then maybe she wouldn’t be venting about her gardening skills to a dog who couldn’t even respond. As it stands, the red wine she’d consumed had gone straight to her head, and she has no one else to talk to. Chris has essentially been banished from this place, what with how often he and Jill fight over trivial things, and no other god traverses between worlds like how they both do. Lani would’ve thrown herself into the River Styx if it meant having proper company, having someone who loved her, but she doubts that would do anything meaningful.
“Flowers aren’t exactly great at growing down here, especially when there’s not any real sunlight. I mean, I know we’ve got all that brightness, but it ain’t a great substitute. And the smoke from the factories definitely doesn’t help — it’s suffocating, ain’t it? How can you even breathe, sweetheart?”
Cerberus whines, resting his central head on his paws and laying down on the floor. Lani stares at the ceiling, her heart squeezing in her chest. Typically, she’d have gotten the fireplace going to keep herself warm, especially since she’d only been down here for a week or so, but between the dog’s fur and the oppressive heat outside, she feels perfectly warm as is. This dog doesn’t need her, not when he already has Jill and is far too independent — is that so much for Lani to ask? To be needed? She shuts her eyes, though she resigns herself to staying awake until Jill makes it home. Lani draws her knees up to her chest, and she takes a shaky breath. She’ll take any glimpse of affection that comes her way at this point, even if it hurts, even if it’s mostly from the workers she’s befriended.
“I’m sorry.” Why is she even apologizing to this dog? Cerberus can’t understand her struggles, and he’s no better than Chris. She’s dug herself a hole down here, and it’s up to Lani to get herself out. Maybe once upon a time, she’d bloomed here like asphodel, but in the darkest part of the evening, all she can picture is a wilted carnation with shriveled up petals. “You don’t wanna hear my complainin’. You probably just want me to pet you.”
Cerberus doesn’t respond, and Lani does her best not to cry over it. The steady rise and fall of his chest is all that comforts her right now, but he’s effectively walling her out. Is that a trick he’s learned from her wife? It’s okay; the dog is utterly adorable, so Lani can’t fault him for falling asleep. Truth be told, she’s been running herself ragged for the past week or so. As per usual, she’s coming down with a cold — but she hasn’t told Jill this, unlike usual. She’ll push through her illness, and she’s going to do her best to avoid Jill. Jill’s stacked the deck; Lani knows how to play this game. And if not? It’s never too late to learn the rules.
“Sleep well,” she whispers into Cerberus’ fur, and then she goes back to staring at the ceiling.
Whatever she’s looking for, she hasn’t managed to find it.
“You shouldn’t have brought her down here,” Lani states. Her voice wavers, yet she squares her shoulders back. If she’s perceived as weak, then Jill won’t take any of her opinions seriously. A hand is extended, but Lani retracts her wrist before Jill’s fingers can so much as brush it. How can she think that she wants to be touched right now? Right now, when she doesn’t know what Jill and Cass have done. “That’s a violation of everything we’ve ever agreed upon, and you know it.”
“Are you seriously trying to bring up legality to me right now? We were supposed to be doing this together. I believe that was the agreement. You chose to leave. I’ve had to do all of this by myself.”
Lani scoffs. Is Jill seriously trying to blame all of their relationship issues on her? Chris keeps telling Lani they need to actually talk about their problems — but if she’s going to be the scapegoat, then she has no desire to even entertain this conversation. She flattens her lips into a straight line, crosses her arms over her chest. She doesn’t need to say anything to make it clear that she’s not exactly in the mood to speak with her wife right now.
Jill, for her part, quite literally turns away from Lani. She’ll turn back for her; Lani knows this from experience. Her wife is incapable of not looking at her. Even when she’d dragged Cass, the hungry young girl, down to this realm, she’d looked at Lani first and foremost. Ah, so that’s what this is about. If she thinks that taking Cass down here will win Lani over, she’s got another thing coming. A sigh escapes her lips. Neither of them are exactly willing to budge, but one of them has to extend an olive branch — and with the way this is going, it’s likely going to be her.
“You didn’t have to do anything by yourself, lover. I’ve been here the entire time.”
As expected, Jill whirls around. Her piercing blue eyes, a feature of her godhood, are hot with anger, yet Lani isn’t afraid. The god of death has a softer heart than most would expect considering her domain, and nothing she does is with the intention to intentionally wound. Intention and impact are different worlds entirely, though, and she glances around the office warily. Cass has been in here, that much she knows; what exactly had occurred, though? The old, framed photograph of them on their wedding day has been knocked to the ground, and she glances at it.
“‘The entire time’? Oh, so we’re just flat out lying now?”
Jill laughs bitterly, and Lani doesn’t look at her. She’s retreating into the back of her mind, back to where no one can hurt her. Jill’s itching for a fight; she knows this because she’s tried to egg her on for the same reasons in the past. It’s not like this is impossibly hard. If she doesn’t respond, then the king of the dead has absolutely nothing to work with. She’ll never be proud of the bricks sprawling around her wife’s whole body nor the bricks encircling the kingdom, but she’ll always be proud of the bricks preserving her mental well being.
“Did you… did she… did you touch her?”
“No. Not like that. It wasn’t… just no.”
The answer is enough to satisfy Lani, at least for the time being and in her intoxicated state. She’s doing her best to stay upright, and if she’s physically distant from Jill, then the liquor on her breath won’t be apparent. She rests her hand on the desk so she doesn’t fall over or take zigzagged steps. Jill scoffs, rolls her eyes. Lani doesn’t know what she’s done to warrant this, but she stands her ground anyway.
“What? That’s it? Nothing else?”
Jill’s sleeves are rolled up, and Lani hums her response. For as much as she pretends the heat and light don’t affect her, the queen of the Underworld knows how to read her all too well. They know each other far too well for their mental walls to actually work, yet they still do this little play night after night after night. The audience of workers is uproarious, vociferous, crying out for change that will never come; for now, though, the night is silent. There are no stars down here, though she stores them in her speakeasy to the best of her ability.
“I have nothing to say to you right now,” Lani replies coolly.
Lani pulls her black skirt down, not wanting any part of her own skin to be exposed in spite of the warmth. She used to wear a more varied color palette when she was down here, complete with rich reds and purples, but the black suits her best nowadays. Her unintentionally matching with Jill, even though her new, monochromatic look had been chosen to create distance between them. She’s in mourning, for crying out loud, and the funeral veil pinned to her hair as well as the all-black look only contributes to the image of that.
“We’re talking right now, aren’t we?”
Stubborn as ever, Lani makes no sound. Her brown eyes say it all, sharp and narrowed, as does her body language. What Jill’s done is the worst thing that’s ever happened to either of them, and she’s not afraid to make that clear. Her low-heeled boots aren’t exactly conducive for power walking or running, but she turns around, heading towards the door. Jill says nothing — she just watches and stands there and breathes.
Lani vows not to look back.
“She can go to hell!” Ailani shouts.
Chris, for his part, seems mostly apathetic. Or, at least, he doesn’t visibly react to what she was saying. It’s no fun bitching to someone who doesn’t respond besides an occasional frown or a ‘that’s really too bad’. Ailani knows he and Jill’s relationship has begun to sour as of late, but she still loves her wife. It’s just… complicated, that’s all.
“Respectfully, Lady Ailani, I think she’s already there.” Chris gives a small smile at his own bad joke, but she simply rolls her eyes. She reaches for her glass of lemonade, and she takes a long sip of it. The lemons are freshly squeezed, and the taste lingers on her lips. The dog days of summer are upon them; the heat is picking up, same as her relationship with Jill.
“It’s just Ailani, Chris. You can drop the ‘lady’.”
“I wouldn’t want to be disrespectful.”
Chris shrugs the hand towel from off his shoulder, and he begins drying a few of the glasses. He’s so meticulous about everything, and Ailani doesn’t know how he can stand it. She herself is much more of a ‘get on the tables and dance if the spirit moves you’ type of gal, always one with the outdoors. The spontaneity that rules her life is in direct contrast to everything about Chris, yet they both travel between worlds. Funny how that works out.
“Well, it makes you sound like that kid, like what’s-his-face.”
Ailani wrinkles her nose, though it’s not with contempt. She’s absolutely horrific at remembering names even though Chris has told her the boy’s name at least three times so far. Names have power, too, so she really needs to get better about remembering them. In the other realm, names aren’t important. People don’t really have them, except for her and Jill, and technically Cerberus, too (though Ailani’s not sure if he counts). Up here, it’s a lot more work to memorize all of those names, and she’s trying to get better at it.
“Matías?” Chris fills in. He probably thinks he’s being helpful, but he’s actually being really fucking annoying. By virtue of being Ailani’s closest friend, though, she chooses not to comment on it. She’s probably been really fucking annoying to him plenty of times, and she doubts he wants to hear all of the stories about her relationship and its drama. “I’m sure he’s just trying to be respectful, too. He’s not really around gods too often. Besides, you know about…”
“Yeah, yeah, I know, I know.” Apparently he’d been dropped at Chris’ door in the middle of a storm back when she was in the Underworld. Abandonment stung, though it’s a pain Ailani herself isn’t too familiar with. The only reason she actually remembers Matías’ arrival at the bar is because Chris had tried to pawn him off to her; she’d denied him, claiming that no child should be subjected to the six months agreement. Besides, Chris was a better parent than she could ever be. “I’ve met her before.”
“So that’s why she left?” Chris quirks an eyebrow, though he takes to cleaning the glass in his hand extra hard. Ailani wonders if it’ll break under his hands, but part of her doubts it. No matter how hard Chris and Jill try to hide it, the rift between them is as large as the chasm between the earth that had existed when she’d first met her wife. The train is always a source of argument, and it always will be; Ailani’s too meek to start arguing over it herself. “For the Underworld?”
“My hands are tied. If she signed a contract, then there’s nothing anyone can do about it, not really. It’s the law, and I won’t bend it for just anyone. What kind of queen would I be then?” Ailani muses. She’s tracing circles onto the bar with a manicured finger absentmindedly, and she gives a half smile. She won’t call it pitying, but it’s not exactly bright as ever, either. “I just wish Jill would listen to me more, though. She hears me, but she doesn’t listen to me. Does that… does that make sense?”
Chris nods. Maybe Jill holds back when she’s talking to Ailani, but she doubts she holds back when it comes to her oldest friend. Ailani pretends like she hasn’t heard their arguments from behind the thin walls; it’s easier to be ignorant, she’s found. Footsteps echo throughout the space before she can say anything more, though, and she turns her head to find the source of them. It’s Matías himself – awkwardly giving a wave to her. She doesn’t remember being fourteen, but she remembers being awkward around adults plenty enough. Honestly, she still is awkward.
“Hello,” he greets. “Ah, Mr. Chris wanted me to tell you that your room is ready.”
Chris gestures to the stairwell. Ailani slides off the stool, and she picks up the suitcase she’d leaned against the bar. She gives him a look that she hopes he knows how to interpret. This isn’t over. Still, Ailani has enough self respect not to continue her tirade in front of Matías. He should be allowed to form his own opinions on that wife of hers, for she does come up top on occasion. It’s much rarer than it once was, but she’s willing to bet the boy doesn’t remember those times. He’s too young for it, as compared to Ailani, Chris, and Jill, who are all as old as time itself. She can’t decide which is a worse thing to be, but she doesn’t have to think about complex issues like that right now. Those thoughts can be turned over in her mind in the early hours of the morning rather than when the stars are shining above them. Ailani forces a smile that she hopes looks authentic, and then she walks over to him.
“It’s good to see you again, Matías.” Matías cringes a little, and so does Ailani. She should’ve assumed he’d been eavesdropping on that conversation of theirs, should’ve assumed he already knew that she’d forgotten his name. She doesn’t really feel like defending it to him right now, though, so she just follows him up the staircase. “How’s life been treating you?”
“Good!” he beams. Matías is so optimistic that it’s sweet. She tries to be that way, and it’s much easier with alcohol in her system, but good times don’t last forever. Ailani’s been through enough to realize that – but he hasn’t, and she’s got no idea when the realities of the world will finally hit him. “Chris is going to teach me to play the lyre pretty soon. He said he was waiting for the right time, which I thought would be when I was older, but I guess right now is the right time, ha.”
Matías leads her to the guest room, and for a brief second, Ailani pauses at the doorway. Where will he sleep? She doesn’t know if he’s got a room of his own just yet, and she hadn’t thought to ask Chris about the whole living situation when she was downstairs. The goddess of spring mentally curses herself for it now; any mortal would be willing to let her stay with them, but she doesn’t want to be disrespectful, especially when he’s just lost someone important to a domain that technically counted as hers.
“Right this way.”
He gestures to the door, and she walks in, careful not to disturb anything. She toes off her boots, and she bends down to set them by the door. Chris has set aside exactly one blanket for her, and he’s removed the top sheet, knowing that she usually runs hot. The window’s been left open, and someone – Matías, most likely – has set a vase of flowers atop the dresser next to an old framed photo of Ailani and Jill. There’s a few old flyers of various musical acts that’ve come through town in the past few years taped up to the wall next to the bed, and she instantly realizes that this is his room.
“Oh, I really don’t mind sleeping downstairs. I don’t want to be of any trouble,” Ailani excuses. She doesn’t set her suitcase down just yet, her eyes flickering over to him. He gives a shrug of his shoulders. He’s so used to selflessness – someone after her own heart in that regard. She can sort of see why Chris wanted her to take him in, but again, that’s not really her role. Everyone’s a brother or a sister rather than ‘her children’ as Jill calls the workers, and that’s never going to change as far as she’s concerned.
“No, no, it’s fine! You can definitely stay here. Chris insists. So do I.” Matías smiles at her, extending his arm to the bed once again. His kindness doesn’t go unnoticed, and she smiles back. “If you need anything, you can call me. Or Chris. But probably me – I’m a lighter sleeper than he is.”
“Okay. Thank you again, seriously. I promise I’m not just saying that to say that. I’ll figure out some way to repay you later,” Ailani responds.
“Why would you need to repay me? I didn’t do anything.”
Matías tilts his head to look at her, almost puppyish, before he leaves the room. He gently closes the door behind him, and as soon as she’s certain he’s descended the stairs entirely, Ailani starts for the dresser. Chris probably is the one who framed the photo; he’s always insisting Ailani and Jill need to stop arguing, and this was probably a no-so-subtle attempt to encourage that discussion. She picks it up, and she finds the drings that hold the backing in place. It’s not long before she’s got the photo in her hands.
Ailani and Jill look at each other lovingly in the photo, and it’s clearly a relic from a time long gone. Her fingernails are sharp – she hasn’t had time to trim them yet, and asking Chris for a pair of scissors would only make her intent obvious. She grabs the photo, closes her eyes, and tears it in half with all of her might. Hesitantly, Ailani opens one eye, then the other. The deed is done; the photo is ruined. She throws it in the trash bin next to the dresser, and then she lays the photo frame down.
Maybe it’s not pretty, but it’s accurate. Love like that never lasts.
Jill’s the one who insists they write each other even when Lani is up top again, but she’s never actually seen anything her wife has written. She’s pretty sure that if she had, the whole letter idea would be scrapped. Still, this will be the first time they’ve been apart since their marriage, and she doesn’t want their connection to die because she’s stubborn. Jill’s currently asleep, which is why she hasn’t bothered to turn the desk lamp on.
The candlelight only adds to the aesthetic, and the wax drips at her fingers as she places it in the golden candleholder. Up top, precious metals like this aren’t easily acquired, and it’s another mental note Lani makes. She doesn’t want to behave like a ghost when she arrives back home, though she’d call the Underworld her home before she’d ever give the overworld the same title, and she’s carefully been observing the differences as she enters her last week here. Putting it all down on parchment is something that’ll serve as a tool in the future, though, so she uncaps her glitter gel pen.
A brief list, she writes, of things I’ll miss. Her handwriting is perfectly fine, if she’s being entirely honest, all curlicues and neat cursive. It just looks too… childish, she supposes? That might be partially because of her writing utensil of choice, yet Lani doesn’t exactly want to change it. That’s part of the problem, probably. How can she ever get better at any of this if she’s not willing to put in the effort? Lani slumps forward, resting her head on a folded hand. She’s going to be up all night at this rate, and then Jill will probably want to know why, and she won’t have a good explanation.
One: you, and you, and you. Nothing and no one else.
Lani groans, though she glances over her shoulder as she does so. Thankfully, she’s managed to keep her voice down enough to the point where she hasn’t woken her wife up. She draws a simple, sleek line through what she’s just written. It sounds so foolish, but also, isn’t that what love is? A little bit ridiculous? She’s behaving ridiculously, but then, again, so is Jill. It just comes with the territory. Lani’s never really loved anyone so wholly before; she’s never been loved so wholly herself before. The beautiful red carnation, summoned by Jill’s song, rests in a vase next to her candle, and she smiles at it.
One: home. A room I don’t have to share with Anela. A garden Jill’s willing to help me with, even if she’s never gardened before, and she doubts it will survive. Decorations that’ve been catered to me and my needs. A place where I can be myself. A place without secrets.
At this point, she’s given up on actually changing what’s down on paper. If she can learn to read Jill’s messy scrawl, then Jill can learn to read Lani’s cursive. She moves over to the margins of the paper, and she rotates it so it’s horizontal rather than vertical. I love her, I love her, I love her <3 <3 <3, she writes, over and over again. The words are simplistic enough, but this is meant to be a list of reminders, isn’t it? Not that Lani ever imagines forgetting the way she feels for her wife. Their union has set the seasons in motion – even if she forgets, the world remembers, and that’s more than enough.
Two: my beautiful wife, Jill, who treats me with kindness and respect and seriousness.
Lani pauses after writing that one, chewing on the end of her pen. Is seriousness even a real word? There’s a library in their home, but she doesn’t feel like leaving for it right now. Most of the books in it are dusty and old; Jill likes hearing the stories from up top far more, thrilling adventures and dark horrors and sweeping romances. She can’t say she blames her for that one. They are, after all, far more interesting than ancient tomes of Underworld legislation, though each are important for different reasons. Lani likes to call that her title, even though ‘queen’ is her official role; she’s a collector of stories, and people and shades alike have no issues offering them up to her.
Three: stories I can’t find up top. Talking to people who don’t judge me for being kinda sorta weird. People who don’t hold back in their honesty, who like having someone to talk to. Stories in all their forms.
Lani stares at her list, and she swears, letting her pen clatter to the desk as she does so. Hadn’t the intention of this been practicality? She’d wanted to be realistic, not sentimental. So much for that. Lani nearly knocks over the candle as she reaches for a fresh sheet of paper. She should’ve grabbed more paper in the first place, but she hadn’t thought about things like that when she’d come up with this little writing exercise. The edge of the paper catches on fire; she yelps.
The cool shadows that submerge her moments later have Lani turning around in her chair. They’re like the flowers she can make bloom at the touch of her hand – not perfectly natural. Because of her enhanced godly senses, she can always differentiate between what’s created versus what’s real. But honestly? She doesn’t need powers to realize who exactly is behind her. She knows Jill almost as well as she knows herself, despite only having spent six months with her, and she gives a half smile as her wife blows out the candle. There’s no light anymore, and Lani leans forward, slumping her head into Jill’s chest. What time is it, anyway?
“What’re you doing?” The edges of Jill’s lips probably quirk into a smile – no, not probably, definitely. Her tone is slightly teasing, but it’s not mocking. Lani shoves the paper out of reach, her face flushing hot as she does so. Jill won’t grab for it without her express permission, but still, it feels silly to hide it away. It feels even sillier to lie about what she’s been doing for the past couple of minutes, too, and she sighs. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. You can tell me. I won’t judge.”
“I know.” Her voice comes out whinier than she’d like, and she wrinkles her nose. Jill would call it adorable if she could see in the dark, and Lani shivers. Without the warmth of the candle, the night is dark and cold. It’s something she minds less and less the more time goes on, especially when she knows there are three throw blankets waiting for her in bed. Lani tends to be cold more often than she is hot down here. Besides, Jill’s more than willing to hold her close, to keep her safe from whatever horrors might await them. “Writing. But. um, it’s a little silly, and I know you were probably busy. I didn’t want to bother you.”
“You’re not bothering me. You’re going to catch a cold if you stay up late every night, though.”
Jill crouches down so they’re on eye level, and she kisses Lani on the cheek. Lani’s breath hitches, and she closes her eyes. Is it so bad for her to want this so badly? She smiles as Jill pulls away, and she raises her hand to where her wife’s lips had just been, as if to prove this really happened. The kiss lingers; she wants to kiss Jill back, but can’t muster up the courage.
“That’s just an old wives’ tale, and you know it,” Lani protests, except not really.
“You got the proof to back that up?”
Silence.
Lani can’t complain too much as Jill sweeps her off her feet, prepares to carry her to a night of restful slumber. With Jill by her side, she doesn’t dream. She doesn’t need to.
“Are you sure this a good idea?” the worker asks.
Ada Wong isn’t exactly like the other shades Lani’s met, not that that’s inherently a bad thing. For one thing, she can travel between domains to an extent, even when that was never supposed to happen. With how rigid the rules are, Lani highly doubts an exception to the rule’s been made solely for Ada’s sake. So… maybe she just slipped through the cracks somehow? That reasoning doesn’t really make sense to her, but she’s too tired to try to rationalize this much more.
“Are you questioning me?” Lani asks, and Ada almost flinches away from her. She hadn’t meant to take on that tone of voice – the shades are her friends down here, same as up above, right? Wrong. Up top, she isn’t queen of anything or anybody. Lani realizes from the way the worker physically takes a step back that she’d taken on a tone of voice Jill tends to employ more often that not; she swears not to use it again. “Sorry. I just… I’ve put too much into this now to back down. Besides, Chris’ bar does pretty well up top. I don’t know why I can’t do the same. It’s not like I’m going to put him out of her business or anything like that.
Ada hesitates before responding. She’s arrived at the plot of land before anyone else has, and somehow, she’s found time to clean up her face before doing so. Is Chris smuggling her makeup, too? Regardless, Lani nods. She doesn’t want to frighten anyone away from speaking their minds – and that’s kind of the goal of her bar. People will be able to say whatever they want without the watchful eye of the foreman on them, and with a little help from Chris, they’ll have some alcohol to loosen their tongues, too.
“You can correct me if I’m wrong, but this is more of a speakeasy than a bar,” Ada offers.
She glances at the plot of land once again. If this was the overworld, flowers would be overflowing; that’d actually been Lani’s original plan for this place. A secret garden, just for her. But Jill’s already created that for her sake, and Lani wants something that’s to be shared. So long as people are willing to look past themselves, her establishment will always have company. Maybe they can set aside a spot for some flowers, though? She hasn’t thought this through very much yet, but it’s okay. She has time to figure it out.
“I guess that means I have to come up with a password. But it’s not… it’s not a secret, but it’s also not not a secret, you know?”
Ada looks at Lani as if, like the dog she cares for so dearly, she’s sprouted three heads. The idea of keeping secrets in a marriage has never appealed to her, but then again, her life has turned out so differently than she’d imagined it to be. Jill’s pulling away from her, and there’s nothing she can do to stop it; more bricks are inked on skin with each passing day, and every time Lani tries to broach the subject, they end up fighting over different matters entirely. She sighs, struggling for the right words to describe this.
“Are we going to be the ones to build this place, then? It’s free labor.” Ada’s words are laced with resentment, and for a split second, her heart drops. No, no, it wasn’t supposed to be like this! The workers are her friends, and Lani has no intention of treating them cruelly. She’s definitely going to put her fair share of effort into this place, and if she can wrangle Chris into coming down here, he’ll help, too. This’ll be a symbol of how things could be, gods and men working together like in the old days. “How are we going to find time to help out? It’s not like any of us get PTO. You’re going to raise suspicion sooner or later if you keep going on like this, too.”
All fair points. Can Lani not be so hopelessly out of her depth for once? She throws her head back, groaning. Unlike her wife, Lani isn’t opposed to letting people see her in her moments of weakness. These days, it feels like all she can do is show people her worst moments. She’ll chalk it up to booze more often than not, but fuck, maybe it’s just her. Maybe she’s just a mess. Jill doesn’t seem to take issue with pointing that out whenever they talk lately, which is less like talking and more like fighting.
“Contrary to popular belief, I’m not afraid of getting my hands dirty if it means helping out. Besides, we have so many factories and stuff down here already. We don’t have any place to just… exist, y’know?”
Ada scoffs, and she wipes her hands on her overalls. But she doesn’t seem entirely opposed to the idea, which is a start. This conversation is a start.
“I don’t think King Jill would allow this place to exist if she knew about it.”
“She doesn’t have to know about it then, does she?”
Lani hates being defiant, especially because every part of her has been trained to obey the rules. But maybe she’s not the good, wholesome girl she’s always been painted as. Maybe she’s not only the goddess of spring, of vibrant explosions of color and beautiful flowers, but also of struggling after hardship, of uprooting weeds, of death receding into the ground.
Game, set, match.
Fine. If Jill wants this to be difficult, then Lani can be difficult.