sweet music playing in the dark

She waved off the other's apology. “It's alright. This is my first time at something like this too, but from my understanding it's more of a theater experience than any actual combat. The audience certainly seems to like it.”

"I never cared for swords, not just because they're archaic. They're quite cumbersome, too," Billie said. "Was your self defense a particular discipline or just learning to protect yourself generally?" Her eyes widened at the thought of actually being in the ring and putting on a show for a crowd. "No. Thank you," she added quickly. It had been bad enough being a prop in a photoshoot in a tank full of water. She did not think she'd actively like to participate in something like this, particularly when there was a chance that she could injure someone.

"Ah, yes. I don't think I'd be very good at the performance aspect of something like this. I am... not a good actor." Billie looked around at the audience, cheering or booing or just hanging onto the edge of their seats. It wasn't really important that the show wasn't good. It was exciting. Excitement outweighed authenticity. "They certainly do. It's a bit like an action movie, yes? Enjoyable to most people even if it is factually wrong." She wished she understood the hype.

Bex was really only halfway through pulling Billie around from booth to booth when the power suddenly cut. Groans were heard all around, including from Bex herself, but she was trying to have a good day, and she wasn't going to let anything stop that. She needed this, after all. She needed to keep distracting herself and letting herself feel good and normal so that she wouldn't have to think about how unlike herself she still felt. At the very least, she'd learned the right grip strength to hold Billie's hand with now, which was warm and a little clammy in her own, thanks to the heat.

She dragged them into the shade and unscrewed the cap of another water bottle, pushing it into Billie's hands. She needed to stay hydrated much more than Bex did now. And, again, Bex was trying to avoid anything that would ruin her day, and that included Billie having heatstroke. "How are you feeling? Not lightheaded or anything?" She tugged her over to sit with her on the cool grass under the shade of a tree, smiling. "This is so cool, isn't it? The parade, the festival. I've never been to one, though I used to watch them on the TV sometimes. Have you ever been to one?"

Billie was, as always, content to let Bex drag her around for the entirety of the day. Bex was well protected from the sun now that she had her daylight charm, and Billie had sunscreen on the little bits of skin that she actually showed off, her face and neck and hands. Though it was a shame that the power was out, it wasn't the worst that it could be. If Bex was enjoying herself, then that was really all that mattered to Billie.

Taking the offered bottle, Billie drank a few sips before recapping it and resting it against her knee as she sat cross-legged on the grass facing Bex. "It's interesting. There's a lot of people around." A lot of opportunities for potential threats, a lot of chances for things to get out of hand. "I have watched Pride parades before," she added. She'd never been to one for the explicit purpose of attending, but she'd witnessed a few that had been happening around her while she worked.

Billie reaches out, wiping Bex's tears away with her sleeve. "I don't blame you," she murmured. She knew this was a big adjustment. She didn't want to put too much on Bex, especially when she was dealing with so much. She was dealing with dying, after all. That was a big deal, even if she did wake up from it.

"I-- I never said I didn't matter," Billie started. She certainly wouldn't say it out loud around Bex. "But it is different than-- than dying. I've been dealing with it. I didn't want to bother you with something that couldn't be changed, especially so soon after what happened to you." Billie looked down at where Bex was holding her hand, the circulation starting to cut off. "I don't want to alarm you, but I can't feel my fingers. I... don't want you to let go, but I also don't want you to break anything. Could you loosen your grip, love?" Billie wasn't particularly worried about broken bones other than how bothersome it would be to not be able to use a hand, but she didn't want Bex to feel even more guilty.

Bex just sighed. Of course Billie didn't blame her. She thought that, probably, she could run a sword through Billie's stomach and the girl still wouldn't blame her. Not that she'd ever do something like that.

It was a limbo they were caught in, then. Because Bex wanted to deal with it with Billie, but she had just died, and they were both dealing with that, too. And while, sure, objectively, dying was worse than not dying, something terrible had still happened to Billie, and Bex wasn't of the mind of comparing their traumas. Even if dying made her feel like still wanting to die and wanting to die made her feel guilty for the Billie of it all.

Reality came crashing back in with Billie's words and Bex let go so suddenly her arm snapped back and she nearly hit herself. "Sorry! I'm sorry. I didn't-- I'm still--" she was still getting used to her new strength, something she'd watched Rohan struggle with for months. Still struggle with, sometimes. In the end, it didn't matter that Billie didn't want to alarm her, it alarmed her all the same. She scooted back into the room, across the invisible barrier between it and the hallway, as if that would somehow stop her from making the mistake again. She looked away. It felt like they'd made progress, and now Bex was right back where she'd started out the day, curled up against her door. "I-- I'm tired." Not really a lie, even if vampire's didn't get tired. It was the bone deep kind of tired. "You should go home, too. Get some rest." Maybe they could try again tomorrow.

Still, before she shut her door all the way, she whispered through the crack, "I love you."

Billie didn't believe in divinity or fate, but, if she did, she'd think that something or someone particularly harsh had it out for them. That wasn't a logical conclusion to the matter at hand, though, even if it was something that would make her feel better. "Is this going to become something we have to speak about in front of the Council?" Billie asked warily. The last thing she wanted was to be interrogated again, and, while it surely wouldn't be as difficult as when she was actually put in jail, Billie still didn't think that it would be an enjoyable experience. She didn't want to talk to people about what happened, didn't want to think about someone in town potentially messing with her body and mind again, didn't want to have to deal with all of this. Things rarely went the way that she wanted. "You're welcome. Hopefully it will not... be too difficult an adjustment."

She'd noticed the silence of the woman next to her enough that when she spoke, however softly, it caught Stevie's attention. She was even more intrigued when her comment proved almost prophetic, with the knight in question falling on his ass shortly thereafter. With Rhiannon distracted by the show, Stevie stifled a snort and raised an interested brow at the stranger. “Not bad. You do a lot of sword fighting yourself I take it?”

Billie startled, not expecting the woman next to her to speak. She offered a tentative nod. "I'm trained." It had been made public knowledge that Billie was a former hunter, though it wasn't discussed often, so it wasn't something that people just knew unless they asked. She certainly wasn't talking about it unless she was asked. "It's, ah, it's also just physics. An unbalanced object, or, in this case, person, is incredibly likely to be knocked over. His feet were too close together when he was hit. A wider stance and proper footwork should keep him from being knocked over next time." Though, he couldn't hear her, so it was likely that he would simply repeat the same mistakes.

"I'm... sorry. I've never been to one of these. The last time there was something odd and medieval themed in town, I was not able to participate, but I'm starting to understand that the purpose of this is not good technique or accuracy, is it?" Billie had, instead, been stuck in a tank for the majority of it, so maybe that was for the best. She would have been a little judgmental of a town wide event that was this lacking in proper fighting knowledge and skill.

Which was Bex's fault. She'd kept herself locked away after she'd woken up. This was their first time seeing each other face to face despite Billie being here constantly. In all that time, she'd never said a thing, too worried about Bex. It made Bex's breath stutter, tears well in her eyes. "I'm sorry," was all she said. Still, she wasn't sure she would've come out, even if Billie had said something. That made her feel even more guilty. She chewed her lip.

"I just don't think it's that simple," Bex explained, frowning. "You're changed. That's-- it's still a big thing. Maybe not, like, dead big but-- you still matter." She still didn't realize how tightly she was gripping Billie's wrist. To Bex, it felt the same as always, aside from the cold feel of scales under her palm. "Things that happen to you are important, too."

Billie reaches out, wiping Bex's tears away with her sleeve. "I don't blame you," she murmured. She knew this was a big adjustment. She didn't want to put too much on Bex, especially when she was dealing with so much. She was dealing with dying, after all. That was a big deal, even if she did wake up from it.

"I-- I never said I didn't matter," Billie started. She certainly wouldn't say it out loud around Bex. "But it is different than-- than dying. I've been dealing with it. I didn't want to bother you with something that couldn't be changed, especially so soon after what happened to you." Billie looked down at where Bex was holding her hand, the circulation starting to cut off. "I don't want to alarm you, but I can't feel my fingers. I... don't want you to let go, but I also don't want you to break anything. Could you loosen your grip, love?" Billie wasn't particularly worried about broken bones other than how bothersome it would be to not be able to use a hand, but she didn't want Bex to feel even more guilty.

Bex didn't know exactly how to take that. She looked up at Billie, at her face, then flicked her gaze to her mouth. Her lips. She wanted to kiss her, to hold her, to tell her it was okay, she still loved her, she'd always love her-- but the fear was stronger than any compulsion and so she stayed where she was, fingers just barely brushing her skin and scales. "I'm sorry," she muttered, "I didn't know." She hadn't known refusing to vote in that stupid game would lead to Billie coming to harm. She hadn't known someone was going to give Billie something that would change her forever. She hadn't even known a mutated werewolf was going to kill her, either. So, really, she didn't know anything at all. Her grip tightened.

"Of course it's important!" Bex snapped. "You're important, too." Especially to Bex. She couldn't do this without Billie. If she lost her, then what more did Bex really have to live for?

Billie just shrugged. "I didn't mention it. We haven't really had much of a chance to chat." She didn't flinch as Bex's grip tightened, even as she felt her bones grinding together. Really, she didn't even feel it like she should. Or she didn't feel it enough for her body to clock that it should have nay sort of reaction.

She was more taken aback when Bex snapped. "I didn't die. I'm still healthy, I wasn't injured. I'm just... different."

Billie didn't believe in divinity or fate, but, if she did, she'd think that something or someone particularly harsh had it out for them. That wasn't a logical conclusion to the matter at hand, though, even if it was something that would make her feel better. "Is this going to become something we have to speak about in front of the Council?" Billie asked warily. The last thing she wanted was to be interrogated again, and, while it surely wouldn't be as difficult as when she was actually put in jail, Billie still didn't think that it would be an enjoyable experience. She didn't want to talk to people about what happened, didn't want to think about someone in town potentially messing with her body and mind again, didn't want to have to deal with all of this. Things rarely went the way that she wanted. "You're welcome. Hopefully it will not... be too difficult an adjustment."

"Oh." The word was less of a word and more of a breath. Bex could see the patch of scales that disappeared under the rest of Billie's sleeve, and she could see how they glinted even under the dim lights of the hallway. Billie's skin was warm under her fingertips, so much warmer than she expected, but maybe it was because Bex was always so cold. Now, she felt colder.

Her fingers slid up Billie's wrist to the exposed scales. She was shaking a little bit. She didn't expect the scales to be warm, too. They were so smooth as well, the touch made Bex shiver, the hairs on her own arms rising. "Look different?" She'd only seen Billie's siren form a few times. It never bothered her. "Like, how?"

Billie looked away even as she let Bex hold her wrist and touch her. It felt strange, unfamiliar, but not wrong. Being with Bex had never felt wrong to her. She didn't speak for a moment, not wanting to say anything. She didn't want to admit the truth of what happened. Finally, she said, "You're not the only one with sharp teeth, now." That covered part of it, at least. Not the webbed fingers or the full extent of scales that covered her. Not the way that she felt like a monster in a way that she hadn't since she was much, much younger. "It's not as important as you, though."

"I'm--" Bex had to stop herself from saying it. It was such an automatic response. I'm okay. She wasn't okay, not even remotely, but in this moment, she wasn't thinking about it at all. She was worried about Billie. It made her heart clench and her stomach twist. Especially the way Billie was looking up at her, how sad her eyes were, even if she was trying her hardest not to show it. Bex dropped to her knees in front of her and reached out, fingers just barely brushing the sleeve of Billie's shirt, slower this time, ready for the jarring feel of it under her fingertips. "I don't know what all happened," she whispered, gripping the cloth tightly, "I wasn't really..." paying attention. That had been the problem, hadn't it? "But you're not-- nothing happened to you? Nothing-- nothing lasting?"

"I know," Billie mumbled. Sometimes, Bex just didn't pay attention at all when she was trying to do something she that was important. It was endearing and reckless and so, so scary. She swallowed, not really looking at Bex before pulling her sleeve up to expose some of the scales on her arms. "They... won't go away," she said quietly. "And when I get in the water, I look... different. I thought it might go away, but it hasn't, so I'm starting to believe it's... lasting."

"It's still bad?" If Brie was still terrified of being a vampire, and she'd been one for several years, then Billie wasn't immediately comforted that this would resolve itself quickly. She loved Bex, trusted her, would wait for her if that was what she wanted, but it was also daunting, to think about what this really was. Forever stretched out in front of both of them in a way she'd never truly thought about before. Even being a fae hadn't actually let Billie consider immortality. She figured she'd just age until she died and accept that. "I... don't know if I'm a badass," she mumbled. She simply was trained to be a certain way, and that training didn't just go away, not even after the few years that she'd been in Lunar Cove. It still hung over her, lived inside of her. "I can handle time. I think that would be really nice, though, the card. It's a sweet thought."

She nodded a little. "No, I couldn't have been useful, you're right. And in that same vein, I think you're being unfair to yourself too." Nyra's voice remained gentle, absent of reprimand. "You were affected by the same thing everyone else was. We couldn't know what would happen, or what Ichor would do. These shifts... are new. None of us were at our best that night." At the admission that there was nothing Nyra could do, she nodded without pushing. "That's alright. Just remember help does not always have to be in the form of solutions. If you ever need anything, I am not particularly difficult to find."

"I appreciate the offer," Billie said quietly. She just wasn't sure how much she wanted to be around the fae court. Billie still didn't feel like she was properly a part of the fae. It was of no fault of Nyra or any of the members. Billie just didn't think she fit anywhere. At this point, she wasn't sure how to try. She was grateful, of course, for the stability that membership provided, in a sense. "That doesn't sound particularly enjoyable." Billie didn't think she would trade places with Nyra, if only because she didn't want to be constantly dripping water, but it'd be nice to not worry about shifting all the time. And it would be nice to not have the additional changes she was currently dealing with.

"Not everyone was effected. I don't understand how some people did. Was this a latent effect of the mark that was left? Was it from something that people were doing in the crowd? Does this mean that Prometheus is among us?" These weren't questions that Billie thought Nyra could answer, but she wanted to voice them all the same. She didn't think she was being unfair to herself. She was supposed to be better than being caught unaware like this, except it had happened to her numerous times since moving to Lunar Cove, and she didn't care for it. She didn't care for it at all. Billie gave a nod, even if she wasn't sure what Nyra meant. "If you need anything, you may call me as well," she offered. It made sense, seeing as how she was a member of the fae court. She might not feel like she fit, but she should at least offer to help.

"They were right, the cat distribution center is real!" A disturbance had come from the bushes while on her walk. Instead of making the reasonable decision and keep walking, Talia had decided to investigate the rustling. Worst-case scenario, it was a raccoon, and she had to go get a rabies shot. However, it turned out to be the best case possible because in the bush, it was a small kitten. She held the tiny creature to the person walking with her, eyes wide and filled with awe. "I've been chosen. I'm now a mother. I love them so much." Her voice was going up a few octaves as she talked to the kitten. "Unless you want to be co-parents," she added quickly, though she didn't really want to be. Talia was just being nice. "They need a name and probably a bath. Just to be safe."

"The... what?" Billie murmured, frowning in confusion as the other woman started speaking. She'd never heard of a cat distribution center. What did that mean? Were they partnered with the animal shelter? Quickly, Billie shook her head. "I'm not parent material," she said. She didn't know how to behave around people, much less animals. Mostly because Billie had never been allowed to have a pet growing up. It didn't work well, with the traveling that she and her dad had done and the lifestyle they led. She probably wouldn't have been able to keep a pet and give it the attention that it needed. It was quite cute, though. "I think the kitten is all yours. Do you know what you'll name it?"

Bex's face scrunched up. Ichor. Bex didn't know much about it, but she certainly remembered everyone talking about it after the last incident with it. She also remembered it was the drug responsible for giving regular humans powers. It sounded dangerous. And now Billie had been injected with it, too, because of Bex. Because she'd refused to vote.

Wait.

Bex's breathing faltered. Billie had been injected with the ichor. She remembered how she'd changed, how, out of the corner of her eye, Bex had seen her helpless and floundering in the middle of the room. In the moment, though, the only thing Bex had been able to think about was keeping the Hellhound away from her. Away from the people she cared about.

Well, she'd been successful. Mostly.

"The marked..."

The thought slammed back into her, though, and before she could stop herself, Bex was twisting and throwing her door open, beat faced and staring at Billie. Her eyes raked over her, looking for anything out of place. At first, she couldn't see anything. No scratches on her face, or visible skin, no scars or other, marring her visage. But then her eyes flicked to the long sleeves, which weren't that unusual to see on her. Except that Billie rarely wore long sleeves around Bex anymore, when it was just them.

"You--" Bex reached out without thinking, hand making contact with the soft fabric of Billie's sleeve. It was so much more than she was expecting, even as she'd had to learn to grow used to the sensation of her own clothing all over again the past few days. Her hand jerked back as if burned. "Are you--?" Okay hung in the air between them, because neither of them were okay, but it was the only word Bex's mind could conjure right now, as she stared at Billie, wide eyed and frozen.

"It didn't hurt me." Billie thought that was, probably, something that Bex was most concerned with. Billie knew she'd be worried. That was why she hadn't said anything; there wasn't much of a point in it, not when Bex was already going through so much. There was no reason to add more there.

It had taken Billie an especially long time to grow comfortable with herself. She still wasn't quite there, and she didn't like showing her body to people, not where they could see the scars. She certainly wasn't fond of the scales, of being forced to change even when she didn't want to. But this was different. It was worse. She was supposed to at least appear human out of water. Now, she couldn't even manage that if people saw too much of her skin. The scales were in patches now that didn't go away just because she got dry, and Billie didn't think they'd ever go away now.

Billie swallowed, looking down. "I was more worried about you." And I didn't want you to worry about me.

Billie was, in her mind, incredibly polite when she didn't tense up and instead accepted the hug. It wasn't even that bad. "I... Still. Thank you. For... being my friend." Billie really did believe that Brie would probably have better luck seeing Bex than Billie herself. Brie was another vampire, and (as much as she disliked it) Bex was one, too. It might do her good to be around another vampire, even if Brie was still sort of new to it. "I don't know if it's about the feeding. Well, maybe partly. I think she's just... scared," Billie murmured. She thought that Bex was afraid of hurting her, and it didn't seem like she was going to change her mind about that any time soon. Not until Bex got control over herself. It was hard to control something you hated. Billie knew that from experience. "I don't... want to overwhelm her. I guess we'll just take this at her pace."

Bex wanted nothing more than to rip open her door and see Billie. To fall into her arms and hold her and be held. Her body felt compelled towards it, pressing harder into the door behind her. But she knew she couldn't do that, not right now. Not when she was still so new to this, so unsure. So dangerous. She swallowed. "To be alive again," she said, bitter. It wasn't at Billie, just the situation. Maybe a little at Ronnie (a lot at Ronnie). And she couldn't say the other version. That would make Billie too sad. (But god did she want to say. She hated that she couldn't say it, that it made everyone around her freeze and stop breathing for a moment, as if they were just waiting for her to snap).

Another sigh. "Sorry," she mumbled again, "that's not fair. I don't need anything right now." That was kind of a lie. She did need to eat. She didn't want to. She needed Billie the most. "Just...talk to me? How's um, how's your job going? And the town? Has anyone figured out what happened at the masquerade?"

Billie flinched, even though she knew that Bex couldn't see. It was probably good, she guessed, that Bex couldn't see. She'd do anything to make Bex alive again, if she could. Anything to make her feel like herself again. Unfortunately, Billie couldn't do that. Vampirism was sort of one of those things that couldn't really be undone.

"You don't have to apologize," Billie said quietly. She didn't think that Bex should have to apologize for being upset about this. Even if Billie was glad that Bex was there, that didn't matter. Not really. Not to her. "It's-- work," Billie started, scrunching up her nose as she tried to figure out what to say. "I don't really talk to many people... I think it's been... not... great. For a lot of people. Ah, it was ichor. Everyone who got marked a few months ago at New Years got injected with... I don't really know, some sort of experimental version of it?" Including Billie. She scratched at her arm. "So I think people have mostly been trying to... deal with that."