mercury manicures, sugar lips

"Excellent!" Gixx threw back the rest of his drink and set down his glass. He grinned wide, giving a nod to Devlin before leading Lisbeth out towards the dance floor. It was certainly crowded, but Gixx never had a problem being in close quarters with strangers before. "Y’know, we had jazz clubs back in Iowa, but you walk down the French Quarter, and even the street performers are better than anything I ever heard back home.”

"You had jazz clubs in Iowa?" Lisbeth laughed. She knew he wasn't a local the second she'd heard him talk, but still. "What in God's name brought you all the way down here, anyways?" It was hard to be heard over the music playing, but they were managing, and the dance brought them close enough every few steps for a conversation. 

"I think he's here till closing. It's a shame, honestly. But until Ayala's a little older, it's not like she knows it's a holiday anyways." Lisbeth admitted, shrugging. That was the thing - Ayala was a wonderful child, was learning more every day, babbling and toddling, but she was still a baby. It'd be a while before Christmas and New Year's and even Halloween held any significance at all for her.

Gixx rose his face up to the witch leaning against the bar, his eyes glancing between her and the bartender, before putting two and two together. He turned his attention promptly back to her and tried to laugh off what she had said to him, though he still felt too forlorn to sound genuine. “Yeah, I mean, it can’t get worse, right?” He shoved away his woes and took another drink before setting down the glass and turning on the stool towards the trombonist. He had to admit, he wouldn’t have minded seeing Sophie. It was one thing to see her at the academy, another completely to see her out in the colourful lights with music and voices blaring. “I never understood how someone could control their breathing like that, but she’s sure givin’ it her all.” He applauded with the rest of the crowd as one song finished, and soon another musician came onstage with a stand up bass to accompany her. At least the entertainment that night would be lively.

"Oh thank goodness, backup." Lisbeth laughed when she saw the second musician take the stage. "Maybe now she'll get a chance to take a breath." She would've liked to see Devlin playing, but if he was on drink duty, that was that. She smiled over at Gixx. "That's the right attitude, you know. Nowhere left to go but up. Been a rough year for all of us, but we'll do better this time around."

New Years Eve | Gixx+Lisbeth

Lisbeth struggled to get up to the bar, leaning over it to give the bartender a quick kiss on the cheek, a whispered something in French. It was a minute before she noticed Gixx slouched there, looking altogether too morose for her tastes. "Now what exactly are you doin' here, scowling all by yourself?" She took a small glass of wine from the bartender and turned to get a better look at the werewolf. 

Sophie didn’t flinch, even when Lisbeth’s scraped-out feeling, something like betrayal, something like guilty mutiny, became that much more apparent in her mind; she’d been rattled herself, so her walls were down. And maybe it was a little bit of Sophie crumbling. It made sense. Who picked someone they’d known under a decade over their mother? But then— who had to pick their mother or their life? Whose mother killed their parents, and their brother, and their friends, and their sisters? When did they all get to choose? When would Sophie get to, or Lisbeth? Or Ayala?

Lisbeth didn't know how to answer that question. What could really change? There were too many threats outside of their coven to make an enemy of their matriarch. Better the devil you know, better to stay under the banner of a woman they could never trust again than strike off on their own. Marie would watch them burn, she had no doubt about that, but she could also keep them alive.

Something had clicked with Lisbeth. But there was too much happening, too much movement. The other woman was restless, the baby was restless, and Sophie… she wasn’t crumbling. But admitting what her mother was out loud— breaking someone else down to see what Sophie had had to take into herself and swallow down, burning away everything until only the truth was left behind— it felt like everyone had lost some of their illusions. Marie would never be someone either of them could trust again. But Sophie had failed at protecting anyone from that. She’d been supposed to keep the secrets Marie was keeping, if only to contain the poison.

Lisbeth stilled when Sophie touched her, mouth dry, breathing hard. This felt like conspiring, this quiet talk of their future, no Marie in sight. This felt wrong. They had given everything up to their queen, Sophie was her daughter and devoted student, Lisbeth had left university to study solely at her feet, hoping to be something history had done away with a very long time ago. 

“I know you can count on your power. You know you can count on your power. Why does it matter what they think?” Sophie grimaced. “Let them think you’re weak. Let them think you don’t believe in your faith and your strength, if it means they don’t see you coming. This goddamn— façade of diplomacy— it’s all bullshit. You aren’t showing up to a cocktail party with a machine gun, you’re showing up to a hooded rally calling itself a masquerade ball.”

"Masquerade ball..." Lisbeth repeated, like the breath had been knocked out of her. That night, the night she'd taken Devlin to see the sunrise for the first time (Now, she realized, high on her blood), there had been a vampire at the ball. Short, with dark eyes and a resentment that had frightened her. They had bantered. She had been diplomatic. He had given her his card and asked her to speak to Marie on his behalf. He had been old. She could smell it in the air around him, older than anything else in the city. Older than Marie.

"You can’t know—!” Her volume rose and Ayala squirmed in protest. Sophie closed her eyes for a second before continuing, quieter. “You can’t know what he wants from you, Lisbeth. For all you know, he gets off on it. Or he wants you as a bargaining chip against your family, or against us. I don’t… I don’t trust Marie, with your life on the line. Not to do what’s…”

"You really think some silver and wolfsbane is gonna save me if I'm in the middle of his parlor and he wants me dead, Sophie?" Lisbeth protested. "But it will let him know I'm scared of him. It will lay bare to everyone there that I'm going to cover myself in poison hoping it makes a difference because I can't count on my own power." She let out a frustrated groan and closed her eyes.  "There are only a handful of us left, but we decimated The Delphi, Sophie. We struck a blow it'll take decades to recover from. When I go in there, I represent that."

"You got that right." Sophie shook her head and hitched a deep breath. "I doubt I can get you an artist’s likeness. Enemies in high places— you sure do know how to pick ‘em, Lisbeth Bayon." She forced herself to look away, back down at the ground, where Lisbeth’s unseasonal ferns were swaying lightly in the breeze.

"I'll do no such thing." Lisbeth whispered, eyes on Ayala. It was intensely unwise, but that vampire had walked straight into Devlin's bar and asked for her by name. He knew things about her. He felt he had room to control her. She wouldn't let him see her fear. Fear was only good when you were looking for pity, or trying to misdirect. If Marie wasn't invited, if she was the one he had called for, she needed to show strength. 

Sophie’s hands went out to take the baby automatically, and she moved to stand next to Lisbeth while she bounced Ayala gently. The little girl was babbling quietly, eyes wide and cheeks red, tiny fists grabbing at Sophie’s hair and shirt. “Oh, my girl. Oh, baby girl,” Sophie cooed. It felt right, being like this with both of them, and it made Sophie feel guilty, and like she wanted to cry.

Gixx’s grin didn’t waver as he made his way further into the kitchen and sat down near - but not next to - Ayala. “I’m a friend of Sophie’s. I’m just here to make sure all’s good in the nest. I’m usually not this early, but I figured I could just take a nap or somethin’ before I did my rounds. I guess you could call me your unofficial security guard.” Noticing the daggers being shot at him via Lisbeth’s eyes, Gixx’s lips tugged into a thin, more serious line. “I’m just here to make sure no one gets in while everyone’s asleep. What with all the trouble that’s been going on, a little muscle never hurt, right?-“

"Nobody told me anything about that." Lisbeth said flatly. She wasn't going to call him a liar, not outright, but it would've been nice to get a heads up if they suddenly had a new security guard. She turned back to the stove for a moment. "Don't know why we need muscle, exactly. But if Sophie feels you're needed..." She shrugged. She wasn't about to overrule her friend and send him packing. He seemed harmless enough, at least. Not like one man could pose much of a threat to a house full of witches. 

Awkward Introduction | Gixx+Lisbeth

Lisbeth set down the big wooden spoon she'd been using and turned around, arms crossed. "Jambalaya." She said shortly. He didn't look familiar. Of course, he could've been a friend of one of the students, but he looked awfully... old. If he was the boyfriend of one of the girls, she'd have considered it her duty to take him by the ear and kick him right out, never to be seen again. 

Sophie had gravitated towards the comforting, familiar feeling of Lisbeth and Ayala’s minds, and hadn’t been totally surprised to find the women outside. The baby was happy enough taking in the sights and sounds and smells of her mother’s magic— and Lisbeth, when emotionally moved, felt most at ease trailing brambles or fruits in her wake like an old god, or a miraculous saint. Tonight, it was flowers in her footprints, the ground looking sanctified by her touch to be so lush in December, even in New Orleans. The plants almost glowed with their greenness against the lamps leaking from cracked windows and light pollution.

Lisbeth fell silent, her eyes closing. Ayala stirred in her arms, reacting to the new sounds - she'd probably smelled the other witch coming. She wondered, sometimes, what Ayala already knew. She wished she had another wolf on hand, someone more present than Kole. The man had his own life, couldn't be playing rougarou nanny to her daughter, but she knew, as much as it pained her, that she didn't know everything. That there was only so much she could do for the little girl in her arms.

Sophie just nodded. A million repetitions of how unfair and how fucked up and how unjust the world had been wouldn’t be news to either of them. Promises that they’d make it through this were more for morale than anything— only Marie’s survival was really a given. Sophie was her daughter, but she knew that much. Her mother would have no use for Ayala and all the women Sophie knew, and Sophie herself, would die before Laveau ever grew old.

Lisbeth rested her hand against her friend's neck, closed her eyes for a moment. She was afraid. It was hard to admit it, and to show it to anyone, maybe anyone at all except for Sophie herself, meant death. Meant breaking apart. She loved Devlin more than she'd ever imagined she could, but she wouldn't let him see her fall apart again. She wouldn't let him panic, knowing that the woman he loved was terrified of what was to come.

"No. No. Shh." She felt herself crying and let it happen; Sophie couldn’t remember the last time she’d allowed herself tears. They felt like an indulgence, when there was so much you could grieve for— you could start and never stop. "We’re… really it, aren’t we? We’re the last of us. And we’re all each other’s got."

"Yeah. Yeah, we are." Lisbeth whispered. And still, after all these months, it didn't feel real. Somehow, she'd managed to keep it from touching her, from really getting under her skin. They were it. They were the very last, and they had to hold together, because there was no one else left who could rebuild when there was time.