bloodbuzz district 8 // { lex & denali | post-feast }

I'm official, I know I'm official
got a badge to your club and this one has initials

"Oh," Denali pulls a face beneath the scrutiny of her Uncle Princess, "I just... well, it was, like, um —" Trying to smudge away the bright red beet stains on her chest with the pad of her thumb, she dissolves into awkward laughter and offers him a shrug in hopes that further explanation might not be necessary. "— you knowww. Just stuff and things! I was totally in on the joke," she reassures him and maybe also herself. After all, it was funny when she doesn't think about the mild panic over how to clean up. So that means it's funny now, at least.

Raising a perfectly painted eyebrow in response, he gives the splotches a thinly disguised double take before tousling his niece's hair and following her gaze to the card game she can't seem to look away from. Artfully smudged red lipstick emphasizes his knowing smile as Denali frowns at a conversation she isn't quite close enough to hear, but that swells the air with Lex's laughter. Everything about Seville is striking in the firelight — be it her pale eyes, luxurious curls, or rosy cheeks — and tiny pinpricks of jealousy burn Denali's fingertips. "It's weird, right? That we look so much alike, but —" she's so much prettier "— not really the same at all. Yeah? It's like..." Trailing off, she sighs faintly and begins chewing at her lower lip.

"Come with me, little queen," taking her hand in his, Princess twirls Denali in a sudden circle and summons a smile onto her face like a magic trick, "we haven't danced together since Rexy-Cat's birthday extravaganzah and there's no one I'd rather have stepping on my toes than you." They share a laugh over the undeniable truth of his words and then again after he has the bruises to back it all up.




"That sounds harrowing indeed!" Grimgram Lyons exclaims several times louder than necessary, the air around her positively thrumming with merriment as she claps for her granddaughter's retelling of the earlier fight in the snow. "Winning two duels against her," there's a hint of a rather knowing grin tucked into the corners of her lips, but Denali is far too caught up in her own bravado to notice, "now, that's rather merciless of you."

Striking a dramatic pose — shoulders back, feet planted shoulder-width apart, a fist on her hip and the other hand held to her chin with fingers splayed as if to say: why yes, this is the face of a champion — Denali sort of looks the part... if a person were to focus solely on her sleek, gleaming suit and pay no attention to the incredibly cheesy grin she's attempting to sell. No exaggeration here! Grimgram nods appeasingly, a true champion for going along with it all. "Ha! Maybe I would have taken it easy on her if she hadn't started it, but I mean, it's not like I didn't give her the option of surrender! She totally could have just given in and admitted that it's pointless for her to resist me."

Attempting a hair flip, Denali has forgotten that her cropped hair has been slicked back. It's the perfect emphasis for her victory and sums things up better than any retelling. "I do imagine that would be futile for the both of you," the older woman chuckles, slicing them each another piece of ham while subtly eying the blonde in question from across the room.




"I am twisting!"

"Twist... more, maybe?"

"Ugh, no. I already snapped four bobby pins trying that."

"You could try twisting less then? Her motion was a little bit —"

"Oh yeah? Was it?"

"Just a suggestion!"

"Great. Thanks. So grateful for your expertise, Lulu. What other ingenious ideas do you have for me?"

"Gosh, I... I didn't mean... but I mean... don't you think the movement should maybe be counter-clockwise?"

"Counter. Clockwise. Are you —"

"Not to interject — I don't mean to seem rude, after all — but it looked like you should do that while twisting a little gentler..."

"Would you like to give this a go?"

"Oh, gosh, well obviously I don't know the first thing about lock picking! I certainly couldn't be better at it than you, Ginny."

"Uh-huh. Oh. Yeah. Right. I forgot that you're not involved with this at all. You're an innocent bystander. Yup. You would never —"

Click!

"See, Ginny! I knew you could do it! I had perfect faith in you the whole time! Who could ever doubt your persistence? Not me, oh goodness, never."

Triumphantly wiggling her fingers above the unlocked wooden box, Peregrine eyes the hoard of letters as if this is a historic treasure — once spoken of by skeptics like her sisters as nothing more than a legend for over-active imaginations. Here is all the proof she could ever ask for. Proof for... proof for everything. Pulling a few pages out, she clears her throat dramatically. "Hey Freckles," she reads aloud and immediately turns to Tallulah with victory in her eyes.

"Hey Ginny," the box of letters snaps shut with a much louder click than the one it opened with. "Lulu. Whatcha doing over here, hmmm?" Denali levels a glare at her sisters, her gaze flicking over to Lex at the sound of her laughter. The blonde just shrugs, taking a sip of her drink and leaning back against the wall to watch the show, smirking as Peregrine quickly hides the letters behind her back as if that will actually hide anything. "Something fun and interesting? Wanna tell me all about it?"

Once again, the first thing Tallulah does is to automatically hold her hands up as if hoping to silently plead innocent. Peregrine can only narrow her eyes and glare at the betrayal.

"Give me the letters, Ginny," Denali sighs, rolling her eyes at both of them. There's a twitch in the corner of Peregrine's mouth, but she holds back whatever words are twisting around her tongue and hands the papers over without argument. Tucking them back inside the box, Denali re-locks it with the key on the chain around her neck and turns back to wag a finger at the twins. "Keep out! Go find something else to do. Rifle through Sevy's pile of junk and weird foreign District money or bug one of the neighbors about stuff — I don't really care so long as you leave my things alone. Okay?" Tallulah nods excessively, her fingers crossed in hopes of not being in any further trouble, while Peregrine can only force a half-sarcastic smile of appeasement. "Good talk."




Arms locked, Lex levels her gaze at Denali. "Nuh-uh." Nuh-uh? But why is there a no happening when everything should obviously be made of yeses? That's just silly. Denali giggles. "You can't get rid of me now." Her grin widens. Nuh-uh. "Until the wine's gone, but —" Peeking over the rims of their mugs, Denali is not quite so drunk that she doesn't know what very full looks like. Almost, but that's an awful lot of booze right there. Besides, she knows where the bottles are kept. There are many bottles. "— also forever at this point if we're being honest here." There's another giggle, her nose scrunching at the ridiculousness of everything happening right now. Where else would Lex even go? Somewhere sad and quiet? A better party? Nuh-uh.

Lex starts drinking. Denali starts drinking because she doesn't want to admit that she didn't realize that's what was happening and also because the mulled wine is delicious. Halfway through their mugs and Lex keeps drinking and so Denali keeps drinking because... she doesn't want to admit that she didn't realize that's what was happening and also because contests are fun. It's too late to catch up to Lex's competitive chugs, but she tries anyhow, sputtering toward the end as Lex finishes with a victorious smirk. Petulantly puffing her cheeks, as if silently objecting to the outcome — um, clearly you... well, you didn't cheat, but you definitely... uhh... I mean, I! Totally! Could! Have! Beaten! You! If, um...

Still arm-in-arm, Denali tightens her elbow's grip, trying to remember what the terms were. Something silly about leaving. Forever? "Which I am, obviously, because that's just me. Especially cause I promised to haunt you, remember that?" Staring each other down, Denali's eyes narrow slightly right before Lex's face splits into a smile. Her teeth are stained burgundy from the wine, dark and ghoulish in the flickering light of lanterns and the nearby bonfire. Denali's head falls back, laughter bursting from her own purple mouth, every tooth looking like the bruised ego of a loser. Suddenly she's not so upset to be one. "Hate to break it to you, Freckles, but you're stuck with me." With a flex, the blonde's own arm tightens. "Better get used to it."

"Used to it?" Denali laughs and gives Lex a glance up and down. It still doesn't really make sense. The two of them. Now. Then. Whenever. It's not just the part where they met by trying to kill each other or how trying eventually turned into succeeding — it's how a lot of people take one look at Denali and decide she's done some of the worst things a person can do, without actually knowing much about her. Unlike most of them, Lex has actually encountered Denali at her worst and yet here they are, arm in arm. Smiling. Laughing. Having a good time. "As if I'll ever get used to you." Pulling a face, she sticks her tongue out and sets her unfinished mug down before using their interlocked arms to strong-arm Lex out of her seat.

With a reckless tug they're suddenly spinning like a square dance to a melody that's moving almost as quickly as they are, but not quite. Even when the circles slow and give way to Denali awkwardly thrashing her arms around — Lex doesn't look like she knows whether to acknowledge it as dancing or something else entirely — it's not particularly slow. The old cliche of dance like no one is watching is really lovely until it's actually happening and then sometimes it's just hazardous. Flailing in enthusiastic circles around Lex, who's either stunned in place for a minute or taking notes for later teasing, the blonde has to duck and swerve more than once to avoid a black eye or a bloody nose. It's an obvious combination of the necessity of movement and the massive amounts of alcohol in her system that finally get her to jump around with Denali, trying to keep up with the Lyons girl's frantic hair shaking and splayed finger interpretive dance style arm waving that turns her body every which way into what might look like madness if it weren't so obviously just... the way she is. Their wine-stained smiles are as messy as their footwork, but regrets can wait until morning.




Glancing over both of her own shoulders and then over both of her sister's shoulders for good measure, Tallulah's fingers worry at the cuffs of her sleeves until threads of lace begin unraveling. She knows this face. This was the expression Peregrine was wearing when she set eyes on the locked box full of letters for the first time. This was the expression when she was pulling bobby pins out of their hair in order to pick the lock. This was the expression when she succeeded in opening it, right before Denali came along and caught them. "I don't want to pick the lock again, Ginny. Can't we just enjoy the party? It's Ratmas. Let's not upset Denali. The letters probably aren't very interesting anyway."

"We won't know that until we read one," Peregrine counters with a glint of conviction in her eyes that Tallulah can't quite wrap her head around. One twin is certainly no less nosey than the other, but Lex and Denali's friendship hardly seems worth prying at in this way. Whatever scandal Peregrine seems to think she might find in their correspondence feels pretty far-fetched, especially after helping Denali to write her own letters for the months she wasn't able to use her hands. It was all just rambling about things like haircuts, descriptions of trees and plants she wasn't sure they have in Seven, retelling stories about meals the family had just eaten, or sometimes shamelessly whining about Lex never answering Mackenzie's phone. "Oh, stop worrying! I never said anything about picking the lock again."

A smug Cheshire smirk curling her mouth, there's a dramatic pause as Peregrine holds a finger to her lips while simultaneously pulling a piece of paper out from her sleeve with a flourish. Tallulah gasps as if it's a magic trick the likes of which she's never seen before and not the exact same tactic they once used to sneak peeks at the love letters from Seville's admirers... until they found out that Seville couldn't care less about the twins reading them, giving them free access to analyze, compare, and rank the notes to their hearts content. "Ginny! You didn't!"

Rolling her eyes, Peregrine waves the paper around triumphantly. "Of course I did. Don't give me that oh, you shouldn't have! act, as if you weren't the one who taught me this move."

"But why did you take —"

"Because I wanted to read it. Obviously."

"— a shipping invoice?"

Peering at the slip of paper detailing and confirming the delivery of a load of lumber, Tallulah begins giggling as Peregrine's eyes go wide. "It is not —" At first it's a faint, stifled whisper of amusement, but it quickly grows out of her control, tears pricking her eyes at the sight of her sister's realization that oh yes, that's exactly what she's stolen. "Why... why did Lex give her a shipping invoice?" The question is rhetorical, but Tallulah's booming laughter answers it anyhow.

"All that work for a piece of trash!" Tallulah howls in manic delight, wrapping her arms around her belly as she doubles over.

Peregrine scowls, reading through the line sheet of the order in case there's some secret code she's missing. There must be. "Denali likes trash," she mumbles defensively, trying to will the paper to give up its secrets.

"Denali likes what now?" Denali's exasperated voice interrupts, snatching the paper out from Peregrine's hands after the blare of Tallulah's guffawing caught her attention, the entire room wondering what all the fuss was about.

"Ugh!" Peregrine throws her arms up, too miffed at her own disappointment to lie about what they were up to. "I took one of your stupid letters from that box, but it's just a piece of trash. Why would Lex give you that? You're both so dumb. You're dumb. She's dumb. Ugh, I'm dumb. Lulu's really dumb —"

"Hey!"

"Don't call your sister dumb!" Denali chides automatically. "Or your other sister! I mean me... you know what I mean. Or yourself. Or Lex. Or my letter that you stole like a dumbass." Sighing in annoyance, she glances at the shipping invoice and flips it over with a grumble, "it's not a dumb letter."

"It's trash, Denali. It's just —"

"Hey Freckles," Denali reads aloud from the backside of the invoice. Peregrine's jaw drops fully open. "Our sugar maples went bright red pretty much overnight," the irritation evaporates from her voice a little more with each word, "so autumn's definitely in full swing. Made me think of you. I dunno." Pausing to give Peregrine a smug glance — see? Not trash. — Denali carefully tucks the paper into the inner pocket of her velvet suit jacket. "Yours, Lex." Forgetting to be mad, she rocks on her heels for a moment. It's really nice knowing she was thought about sometimes too. With a small smile to herself, she begins walking away from the twins, making it about ten feet before remembering that she was in the middle of telling them off. "And keep your dumb faces out of my stuff!"

There are a few moments of silence as Tallulah regains her composure, caught in a strange mix of lingering laughter and mortification over getting caught. Again. Peregrine is perfectly, almost unsettlingly still as she slow-blinks at the empty spot of floor where Denali was standing... reading a note scribbled on the backside of the piece of trash... making that face afterward. "I knew it! I. Knew. It. IknewitIknewitIknewit."

"You knew what?"

Pointing a finger in Tallulah's face, Peregrine is completely lost in the conspiracy theory barrage of her own thoughts as her eyes flick around and she tries to process everything she just heard. "That was like... an eight, probably!"

"What are we counting?"

"I mean, it's a two for Seville," they've ranked enough of her love notes at this point that high scores have quite the competitive standard, "but definitely an eight for Denali." Throughly confused by the abrupt turn in conversation, Tallulah can only chew nervously at her lip as her twin's expression devolves into a state of somewhat unstable looking glee. "She wrote it on trash! Ha! Genius! Denali loves trash."

"That is... true," Tallulah hesitantly replies, uncertain as to exactly how involved she wants to get in whatever is happening all of the sudden.

"Right?! Okay. That does it. We've gotta pick the lock again."

"Ginny, no!"

"Oh yes, Lulu. Ohhhh, yes."




It's so late when the duo falls asleep, slumped into each other against a wall, that it's early again. Too early. Much, much too early as the first hints of sunrise pry at their unwilling eyes, trying to greet them with the happiest morning of them all: Ratmas morning! Fa la la! La la! La! Denali moans quietly, the small rumble of sound within her own throat enough to make her wish she was dead.

Ev. Er. Re. Thing. Is. MISERY. CHOICES, DENALI! YOU MADE CHOICES LAST NI—

Being dead would feel so amazing right now. The nice rest in peace kind of dead? Fabulous. Yes, please. The agonizing slowly burning alive until she chokes on the smoke from her own charred flesh kind of dead? Oh, yeah. That sounds pretty great too... in comparison to the ice picks behind her eyes, brutally hammered in with each beat of her pulse as she tries to swallow her liver back into her kidneys into her intestines into her lungs? Why are her lungs nauseous? Why is she — oh, no... no, no, no — about to puke her lungs out? That can't be right. And yet... her teeth taste like acrid housing insulation and maybe that's because of the actual taste in her mouth or maybe that's because of how they aren't a texture she remembers, but when she presses her tongue against them to try to hold a rising tide of bile down she's too dizzy to know what's what. There are five of her and they are all ghosts. She has ten hands and every single one is numb. Did she fall asleep on her hands? Her ten hands? Either way, she's fairly certain this is balanced by no longer having any feet. Her legs are a distant, swirly shadow that feels like black water waves or gelatin or something else horrible, caught in a distressing state of involuntary movement no matter how still she stays. So still. She tries to stay so still, to defy they way her innards undulate and twist, but —

Lex sits up so abruptly that Denali nearly blacks out, the far side of the universe flashing across the dark of her desperately shut eyes. The distant stars are too bright. She hates them. They hate her too. The ice picks skewering her eyeballs cackle and stab and stab and stab. "Morning, Freckles. Merry Ratmas. Hey," Lex's excitement is agonizing. Her voice is large enough to swallow worlds and it's all Denali can do to hold back another groan, begging any of her ten hands to put a stop to the Big Torture Sound, but they're all too busy holding their palms over their own non-existent ears. Selfish traitors. "Denali." For a moment she thinks she finds her feet cowering beneath her shoulder blades, but it turns out that's just the final remnants of her brain oozing out her ears and down her back or at least she hopes that's what's happening, because she cannot imagine an alternative and that. Is. Terrifying. "I was thinking, um, wondering —" All of her organs are brawling in her throat, the hardest of the hits bitter on the back of her tongue. "Would you want to go out with me?"

Out? The groan she's been holding back escapes slightly through her nostrils, burning on the way. The idea of moving even an inch, let alone sitting up straight or — Ripred forbid — standing sounds worse than just... anything. Absolutely anything. "There's, uh..." No. "Some market stuff that looked kinda nifty —" Please, no. "— and the rest of District Eight, too." Unable to anything Denali attempts to telepathically will it all to stop, the effort of even that threatening to spill what must be gallons of last night's mulled wine and gin and elderflower liqueur and champagne and... and... and... "Like there's a great sled hill, past one of the stands with the big rotating cone of roast meat, I think kinda near the petting zoo." Please, no. Stop. Sickening hills and wafting meat smells and warm animal fur damp with snow in a pen of muddied earth and fresh hay and poop — so much poop! — with small children screaming in excitement all around take turns punching her in the gut, trying to see which thought can make her puke first. It's too close to call. Nope, nope, nope. "And I saw this table where you can put together gingerbread houses, made me think of you." Trying to open her eyes enough to convey her misery, she remembers too late that oh yeah, the sun wants to murder her too. "Yeah. So, uh. What d'you say?"

It's difficult to catch her breath, but finally she manages. "Nooooo," she wheezes miserably, "I—" Going outside right now sounds like the worst thing ever. "— don't want to go out with you." The effort of words is too much at this point in her hangover. Everything is made of regret. There is nothing else in all of existence except regret. "Uh-uh," she finishes pathetically, her tongue melting as if her saliva is made of acid, just to ensure she doesn't get any bright ideas about attempting to say anything else.

"Oh," Lex mumbles, as though genuinely caught off-guard by the response, "okay then. Never mind." She eases herself back down, leaving a conspicuous space between them that wasn't there before. "That was stupid," she tells the rafters overhead, "forget I asked. Friends then, I guess."

There's a slow motion moment wherein Denali is lost on the sea of her hangover, drifting away oblivious to the world, but eventually a few of Lex's words reach her on a delay and — with great effort — she manages to turn her face slightly toward girl beside her. "Friends," she echoes in a faint whisper. This may be the worst hangover she's ever had, but maybe everything's not so bad after all. It's nice to have a friend.