May 7th, 1891 — Rainbow Ball — Hogsmeade Ballroom

Alfred had planned to be engaged by now. The same could have been said for generally any point in the past year or so, but this was different — he'd had concrete plans this time, not just vague hopes. Things had started falling into place. He'd anticipated asking Brannon's permission sometime in mid-April, then again in late April if necessary. By the beginning of May, he'd thought he would have been proposing, and by now they'd be out of rough water and coasting ahead towards their wedding day — smooth sailing from here on out.

He was not engaged, obviously. A large part of the delay was the Santa Antonina. He couldn't furnish a house or start a new job while he was off the coast of Portugal, nor could he beg Brannon for his permission to marry Zelda. After the rescue effort, there had been repairs to see to — but that didn't fully explain it, because the Voyager had been back in the Thames with only minor repairs ongoing for the past two weeks, and he had yet to lift a quill to write her father and ask for an audience, much less go through the actual ordeal of trying to convince him in person. And he felt — off. There wasn't any other word for it... or rather, there were dozens of words for it, but none were entirely appropriate. None really captured it. He'd written restless to Zelda; he'd written out of sorts. He could have said untethered or adrift. Any of them were close, but none of them were enough. The best way to describe it, really, was through the effects: he'd gone two weeks without writing her father and he didn't know why.

And Zelda had been sending him letters wanting to talk about it, wanting to apologize, wanting to make up, and he didn't know what to do with them. He didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want to fight. He didn't want to explain anything else. He didn't want to take this out on her when he didn't really think it was her fault. He didn't want to be here, at a party with colorful drinks and a fashion show at one edge of the ballroom, but he didn't have any good reason not to come and he was afraid Zelda would read too much into it if he passed up an opportunity to see her. He didn't want to be out at all, not really, but he recognized that sleeping in his cabin on the Voyager despite having a furnished house in the Sanditon Terrace wasn't good, and letting every day slip by without writing her father even though he had no good reason to delay wasn't good, and staying onboard the ship every night with no company wasn't good. Maybe if he went through the motions things would kick back up again and he'd start to feel more himself. He hoped so, anyway.

He'd only gotten one glass of the drink they were serving so far and hadn't even tried it yet (it was currently dark green which was not a particularly encouraging shade) when he saw Zelda. Alfred forced a half-smile in greeting and shifted his weight from one foot to another, trying not to look as awkward as he felt. "Hi," he said simply. "You look nice."

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@"Zelda Fisk"

  

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

Zelda was wearing a soft blue color and maybe she was drinking too fast, but the drinks tasted good and she was nervous and she was on her second drink much sooner than she'd intended. It was possible that things with Dio were fine — or, that things with Dio were better than they had been that Saturday — but she wasn't sure that she believed they were. And she didn't quite believe that thing were fine with Alfred, and she didn't quite believe that things were fine with her family, and she didn't quite believe that things were fine with work.

So: the ball. And she was on her second drink much faster than she should have been. And maybe if she was floating above the rest of the ball enough she wouldn't be nervous about any of it, but she didn't feel like she was floating yet, and there was Alfred, too close for her to chug any of her drink. She did still take a gulp from it before she replied.

"Hi," she said, trying for a grin although she was not sure she managed to conjure one. "Thanks. It's hard to match anything with rainbow." She hadn't seen him since the eighteenth, but she hadn't really seen him since Xena's wedding — so it was hard for her to balance her enthusiasm with anything else, and she something like a gravitational pull towards him.

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AMAZING set by MJ

This was just the same as it always was, at least superficially. They'd smiled, he'd complimented her, she responded with something a little awkward (because she had never much liked parties) that nonetheless he found charming. This could have been any interaction at any party since they'd met, but — something was different, too.

"It makes your eyes look nice," he mumbled sheepishly. This was true; it did. It felt like a strange thing to say, though, for whatever reason. He didn't know if she'd believe it, though there was no reason for her not to.

"Have you been here long?" he asked, with an eye on her glass — less full than his, though that didn't mean much since his was still untouched.

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The following 1 user Likes J. Alfred Darrow's post:1 user Likes J. Alfred Darrow's post
   Zelda Darrow

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

Zelda glanced down at her dress before looking back up at him, maybe to imagine what it made her eyes look like, or maybe just because she wasn't sure what to say when Alfred was mumbling at her and things were still a little weird. Especially because she was supposed to be talking to him about children, either here or sometime soon, and that was also — hard to think about.

"Not that long," she answered, "Just long enough to see the ballroom change colors — um, maybe twice." The magic involved here was neat, it was interesting, she had an impulse to start talking about the magic involved like creating noise would bring them back to something that felt normal.

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AMAZING set by MJ

That meant nothing to him, as a measurement of time. He had not even been aware that the ballroom was changing colors, and he added that to his list of reasons he didn't really want to be here. How silly was that, having the whole ballroom change to go along with the drinks? Themes were one thing, but this seemed like a bit much. No wonder Zelda had commented on how hard it was to choose a dress to suit the occasion.

But it didn't really matter how long she'd been here, he supposed. He didn't even know why he'd asked, so there wasn't much point in trying to clarify. "Alright," he said, eyeing his glass dubiously as the dark green started to shift to a tepid yellow. The color of dandelions after they'd been trampled underfoot. No more appetizing than the green, really.

He thought maybe he ought to ask if she wanted to dance, except he knew she didn't. Zelda didn't like dancing, and she didn't like parties. They only went to parties to see each other and they only danced to steal a few seconds of conversation alone, and since he didn't see any hovering chaperones there wasn't much point in that. "Do you want to sit?" he asked instead, inclining his head vaguely towards one of the tables clinging to the edges of the ballroom.

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

She wanted to come up with something charming to say about the ball or the time or literally anything, but her mind wasn't quite conjuring it the way she wanted to. She wasn't sure how to be charming after the weird tone of their last conversation, and their last letters, and the fight they'd had before the Santa Antonina rescue. She could have conjured sad or petulant or snarky if she wanted to, but she didn't want to be any of those things — she just wanted to be Zelda and Alfred, and that wasn't what they felt like now.

"Oh, yeah," Zelda said, glancing over at the tables. Maybe she should try to get another drink on their way? Hm. The bar wasn't on the way, so she would have to hope this was enough — especially because she didn't drink liquor often, and did drink faster when she was nervous, which she very much was now. She took a sip of her drink. "Lead the way."

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AMAZING set by MJ

So now they were sitting, which... wasn't really significantly different. Alfred supposed it was a little better, because at one of the small tables in the corner he could rest his elbows on the edge of the table and cross his arms over its surface and not have to wonder what to do with his hands. Sitting meant not having to worry that he was shifting his weight in a way that made him look too uncomfortable, too, so — it was better, but it still felt off.

"The Voyager's coming along," Alfred announced, because if they didn't have something to talk about they were going to have to talk about the letters, and he didn't have the energy. "We've still got two sails out for repair and some minor things to do with the woodwork, but it's mostly ornamental at this point. We could set sail tomorrow if we wanted." Not that Alfred would be sailing anywhere for the foreseeable future, at least not with the Voyager. He'd started at the Sanditon, and there were boats there that needed his attention and soon enough there would be sailing lessons to teach.

Shit, if he didn't hurry up with all of this Zelda was going to find out he was working at the Sanditon before he had a chance to tell her, and then this whole thing was going to fall apart. Alfred pushed his glass around the table with one hand; it was still the squished dandelion color. "How's Dio doing?"

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

"That's good," Zelda said, with real warmth. She'd spent too much time working on the Voyager's curse last spring to not have warm feelings about the ship — how much of that was mixed up in her pride was difficult to say — and she was pleased that a sea monster hadn't been able to sink her. She'd had a little knowledge of this — her department had been at least surface-level involved here — but Zelda hadn't, and whether that was because it was Alfred's ship or because of Dio she wasn't sure.

Which — she should have known he'd ask about Dio sooner or later. She took a sip of the cordial before she replied; the odd yellow tasted sort of like calendula, and therefor not bad but also more bitter than she would have chosen if asked. Zelda wrinkled her nose and set the glass down again. She'd just have to wait until the next color, which — also unfortunately meant she was going to have to talk about Dio, since she was not drinking.

"She's home now," Zelda started. She wished she could have left it there, but — I can't tell if it was a fight or not but she wouldn't look at me, I don't know how she forgave me the first time and I'm not sure she'll do it again, I made a mistake and I can never unmake it. And while those were all things she could have said to Alfred normally, she could not say any of them now — not when there was something off in the atmosphere between them.

"Her memory's not great," Zelda said. She tapped her finger against the side of her glass. "But they're hoping it gets better."

Well, that was what everyone kept saying. She wasn't actually convinced people expected Dio's memory to improve.

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AMAZING set by MJ

Dio's memory wasn't great. It was hard to classify the feeling that went through him at that. Certainly some part of it was guilt, because she'd been injured on his watch. There was, however, a realization that accompanied it. Dio had been one of very few people who'd known any of his plans for the spring, after he'd confided them to her onboard the Voyager. There were little parts of things that were obvious to different parties, but there were really only three people who'd known the whole of it: Jo, who was gone; Dio, whose memory wasn't great; and Ari, who obviously had other things on his mind. It was ... sort of freeing, in a weird way, to think that if he failed no one would be waiting in the wings sharing in his disappointment.

Or if he gave up before he had a chance to fail. He couldn't cut out on the first season at the Sanditon without burning his bridges with the Fudges, but maybe there were ways around that. Maybe the Fudges weren't that attached to the idea of a sailing instructor. Maybe they'd pieced together enough of his plans that he could just imply he'd tried and failed — that she or her father had said no — and they'd release him from his obligation out of sympathy. And if they didn't, if they never forgave him — if he picked a point far enough in the distance to chart his course to, it didn't really matter, did it?

This urge to run, for no other reason than because the wind would be behind him if he did, was new. New, or maybe newly recognized. Maybe it had always been here, and he'd only recently cleared out enough of his other feelings to make room for it and recognize it as what it was. It was similar to the frantic energy Jo had had when she had shown up in his flat for the last real time (because those hours in the blizzard hadn't been them). She'd never really asked him to go with her, but Alfred thought if the blizzard had never happened, and if she had shown up tomorrow in the same state... maybe she wouldn't have had to ask, and maybe his answer would have been different.

Alfred had been frowning at his drink half a second too long. He shook his head to clear it and raised the glass to his lips, knocking back a third of the stuff in one drink despite not liking it much. Maybe Zelda would think he was just worried about Dio. "Yeah, I hope so," he agreed with another frown.

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

The silence stretched. Zelda left her hand on her glass and her mouth went dry. She’d ruined everything. She’d pushed Alfred too far, and she’d been so angry with Dio for so long, and she knew exactly how she’d gotten here. It would have been easy to pretend that she didn’t — except that everything had been fine a little over a month ago, the day of Xena’s wedding. Now she wasn’t sleeping and Dionisia wouldn’t look at her and Alfred was staring at his glass, so maybe he couldn’t look at her, either.

”Yeah,” Zelda said, morose and looking at the way his curls fell against his neck. She tapped her finger against her glass. She didn’t want to talk about this. She wanted to be back on the docks in Ottery St Catchpole, but failing that, she wanted a puzzle to solve — one that wasn’t anything to do with Dio or Alfred or her family or anything.

She took a gulping sip of her drink. Zelda wasn’t drunk, although she was drinking too fast and she knew it, so she also knew that she probably would be eventually. Her current residence in the realm of near-sobriety still didn’t stop her from reaching her free hand up and tangling her fingers in her hair, ignoring that it was done up and such a motion was likely to set it awry in a way that wasn’t really appropriate for a ball, even if it was a ball about drinking.

”Yeah.”

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AMAZING set by MJ

No, this wasn't working. Whatever thought he'd had about going to things just because he didn't want her to think there was something wrong, it wasn't working. Trying to make conversation and hoping his insides would catch up to his mouth sooner or later wasn't working. Pretending that things were fine and hoping eventually they would be wasn't working. It wasn't working for either of them, because the conversation was dying out like embers left untended in a fireplace. Zelda was looking anywhere but at his face, and she was doing all those little fidgety sorts of things she did when she was uncomfortable. Her fingers on the edge of her glass, her hand reaching to her hair.

Alfred frowned and reached up to catch her hand with his own, stopping her from making too much of a mess of her hair. He met her eyes with a vaguely hopeless look. I hate this, he thought, but he knew that she did, too. He just didn't know what to do about it.

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   Zelda Darrow

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

Zelda finally looked back at his face when he caught her hand, although she wished she hadn't immediately. Alfred was wearing an expression she knew, and it made something twist in her chest. She bit her lip. She wanted to do something that would ground her, ground them both — but she couldn't ask him to kiss her in the middle of a ballroom, even with her worst chaperon responsible for her tonight. She squeezed his hand.

"I wish we were alone," she admitted quietly. She wanted to tuck her head against his shoulder and be held; she didn't want the sound and color of this, and all the things she didn't want to talk about pressing in around all of her edges.

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The following 1 user Likes Zelda Darrow's post:1 user Likes Zelda Darrow's post
   J. Alfred Darrow

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AMAZING set by MJ

Alfred raised an eyebrow. He hadn't been expecting that, though he knew what she meant. This was awful, all of it, and so long as they were here enduring it in the middle of a ballroom there was no chance that it would get any better. It was nice, though, that she'd said she wished they were alone, rather than she wished she'd stayed home. She hadn't quite given up on him yet, then, despite everything in the air, and probably he hadn't given up on her yet, either, despite the thoughts that kept sneaking up on him.

"We could be," he pointed out, still holding her hand in his. There were no Fisks between them and the door, and even if they were they were both capable wizards, perfectly able to leave a ballroom without going through the door if they needed. The only thing keeping them here being miserable was themselves.

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The following 1 user Likes J. Alfred Darrow's post:1 user Likes J. Alfred Darrow's post
   Zelda Darrow

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

There were several reasons that she shouldn't leave with him, and all of them were compelling. Julian was here, and just because she couldn't see him now and could probably get out without him stopping her did not mean that she shouldn't stay. He was sure to notice she was gone eventually. And he wasn't the only person here, there were people around and Ross' election had given her a level of notoriety she had never asked for, a level of being recognizable. People might notice if she left. People might talk about it.

And they were so close, so close to being done with this, she didn't have evidence but she was sure of it. People didn't court for nearly a year without getting married, there had to be an out for them soon, and then they would be able to be alone all they wanted without having to worry about anything anyone thought.

All of these thing were true and she was aware of all of them, except — she was sick of her life the way it had been the past month. She hadn't been sleeping — she still wasn't sleeping well — and Xena was gone and her house was quiet. She'd tried to calm Ari down, she'd stayed in the hospital, she'd stayed at home with Dio, she'd bickered with Alfred over letters. The most like herself she had felt in the last month had been when she was working on curses for the Ministry, but that still wasn't enough, it couldn't occupy all of her time, it was just a stopgap for all of the feelings she was trying to avoid.

And if they stayed here, caught in the middle of the ballroom with their last conversation suffocating them — what if they never recovered? He'd written especially if we get engaged in one of his letters. And they never really felt like them in the middle of a party, or when other people's eyes were on them.

A beat passed. She didn't relinquish her hand, but used the other to knock back the rest of her drink. The color started changing towards the end of her swallow and the taste was a little off, accordingly, but she managed to keep it off of her expression.

"Let's go."

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The following 1 user Likes Zelda Darrow's post:1 user Likes Zelda Darrow's post
   J. Alfred Darrow

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AMAZING set by MJ

Alfred's mouth twisted towards a smile at her response, though it was more of a tired smile than the wide grin he might have had in other circumstances. He knew this was a bad idea, knew it was risky, but it felt good all the same. It was like catching a lifeline thrown out to sea; they weren't through it yet, nothing was better, but there was hope now that maybe it would be. At the very least, there was the potential that it could be.

Alfred didn't bother to finish his drink but instead left it on the table changing colors. Before he stood, he brought her hand to his mouth briefly and brushed a kiss against her knuckles, then he headed out the front door without looking back, hoping she was following him.

They reached the cool air outside the party and almost immediately Alfred felt a little lighter, his shoulders a little straighter. He reached out to wrap one arm around Zelda's shoulders and pull her in towards his chest. This was too much to be doing in a public street where anyone could see, but if he'd been in the right mindset to care who might see them and what they might think he wouldn't have suggested leaving a party together in the first place.

"We should go somewhere," he suggested. He really didn't care where — he still wanted to get away, to escape, and maybe if she was willing he wanted her to come with him.

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   Zelda Darrow

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

This was an objectively bad thing to do and she knew it, but that wasn't enough to convince her not to. Zelda had always been more reckless when she was sad, and it was impossible for her to talk herself out of this now. Maybe if she pretended she was supposed to be doing this, if she pretended that this was fine and no one would ever find out and she was doing what she was supposed to be doing — well. Maybe she could just do this one bad thing, and maybe she wouldn't get caught, and maybe it would fix them.

She didn't actually believe that, but she followed Alfred out of the ballroom anyways. She could deal with the consequences of this later — she would have to — but for now the thought of staying in the ballroom was suffocating. This was the same logic that had her turning towards Alfred as soon as his arm was around her shoulders. People could see, probably, and as a pair they were definitely not unrecognizable — but she didn't want it to matter, and she placed a hand on his chest.

Zelda hummed her agreement. Somewhere felt appealing, at the moment — really anywhere but Hogsmeade felt appealing, because so much of her family was here and she didn't want to see them.

"I want to go back to Ottery," she said, tucking her head against his chest. "Is that stupid?"

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AMAZING set by MJ