birthrightgreen: (softly pretty)
Surreal woke up with a smile, for all the confusion and tears of the last week. Sam's party had been...not what she expected and mayhap she should have stayed, but it was Winsol, and she needed to be at the Hall today, especially if she was going to leave. Graysfang bounced on the bed. His nose was cold where he nudged her and she pushed at it with a half-hearted snarl. It really was hard to snarl now that she'd made sure he didn't have fleas and they'd reached their compromises on when he could sleep where.

*It's Winsol, Surreal, get up*

Prancing on the bed was a distinct no-no, and she fixed him with a far more impressive glare that did nothing to dim his excitement.

*Get up, Surreal, get up* He nudged at her. *You have presents...*

Presents likely weren't going to be until after dinner and before the Ball. It was barely dawn, and she'd been up so late...

*Surreal!*

"I'm up. I'm up. Mother Night, you are as demanding as any client I ever had." If for completely different things, but a demand was a demand. She did want to get her gifts below the Winsol tree before the day truly began, though, but she was not telling the wolf that. She debated between a shower and a bath, finally settling on a long, hot shower. Lots of bubbling soap, and a soft sigh as the water pounding down eased some of the tension out of her. She wasn't going to think about it today.

Today she was going to celebrate the glory of Witch--of their Jaenelle--with her...her family. She smiled a little at the word, the concept and the faint ache that leaving the madness of the Hall would bring. Not to get caught up in the cycle of everything of all of them. But the Circle should all be here today. Most of the Circles, really, for it was Winsol, and Witch walked the earth. Already, she could hear stirrings from below. The Hall was stuffed to capacity, rooms spilling over with people, and more arriving tonight for the festivities. Mrs. Beale was in heaven and barking orders at all of the temporary staff who were never quite up to her standards, despite that she took only the best of the best.

Surreal smiled, greeting people as she moved downstairs. She'd grab breakfast after she put her gifts down.

The Ballroom with it's tree reaching toward the ceiling was empty, and she smiled in relief, pushing her hair back and thinking maybe she should have put it up for today. It was just going to get in the way. She knelt by the tree, then called in her gifts, placing them there carefully.

Perhaps she hadn't shown a great deal of originality in the initial selection, but she had been so very careful, trying hard to match things up. The trip to the bookstore in the other world had been harrowing and a bit confusing with all of their different symbols of money. The rectangular card Samael had given her had simplified things greatly.

They were wrapped, oh so carefully, in brightly colored paper with symbols of a fat man in a red suit in a sleigh through the woods. Santa Claus. She could tell them about him if they asked. She'd made sure to get the stories straight last night. Other paper had men made of snow on it, wearing hats, and she wondered if she could convince Daemon to help her build one of these snow-men this afternoon. She wasn't quite sure what the mechanics of it would be, but it looked like it could be challenging and fun.

She didn't know the second and third circles well, so she had gifts only for family and First Circle and she did hope that was all right.

They were slim volumes, bound in leather. Plays, a single one per book. She'd chosen based on summaries Sam had given her, the ones she thought suited each person best.

For Saetan, she chose Henry V. Lucivar got Henry IV, Part I. Prothvar got Henry IV, Part II. Andulvar got Henry VI, Part I. Mephis got Henry VI, Part II.

She chose A Midsummer Night's Dream for Gabrielle and Chaosti, because it had fairies in it, of course, and apparently fairies and the Dea al Mon were related. She did hate to repeat herself and they would share, of course, but. She couldn't resist. She picked them up a book of the artwork of Brian Froud as well, so they had two still. For Morghann, As You Like It, because she thought Rosalind's spirit would amuse her. For Karla, Taming of the Shrew because it amused her to no end and the only person she'd met here who could match her tongue on a regular basis was Karla. Marian, Much Ado about Nothing, because all of the romance was sure to delight her.

Morton got Twelfth Night, because Viola and Sebastian just reminded Surreal so much of Karla and Morton. The other boys, she scattered the histories among, and then the comedies to the girls.

For Jaenelle, she couldn't decide between The Merchant of Venice or The Tempest, so she got both.

Daemon...was more difficult. The one she kept returning to, she finally placed firmly back on the shelf, picking up Macbeth instead. He would like something darker than the others. She slipped a copy of Hamlet in her own bag, to read, to share if she thought he might like it later. Sam's comments about insanity had made her wary.

Not that Macbeth seemed properly sane, but she thought he'd like the castles and witches and the riddles of their prophecies.

A bottle of yarbarah for Saetan as well. For Jaenelle, a necklace with a delicate silver spider--a Black Widow--on it's web. And a lambswool cable-knit sweater, a heather green to bring out the gold of his eyes, for Daemon from a store called...she tried to remember. Right. Macy's.

Her lips tugged in a smile, remembering their conversation. He'd understand. She wrapped a large red bow around that one. He'd understand that, too.

She sat back with a sigh when they were all placed and breathed in the scent of the pine. With a final look, she got up and made her way toward breakfast and the rest of the Winsol celebrations.




OOC: We've all been slow/not here lately, and it's a hectic week, but I wanted to put something up for the celebration. Any and all BJT muses feel free to hop in, drop by, chat, dance, whatever, as you like/have time/please. Blessed Yule and Happy Winsol! :-)

ETA: Added links to Jaenelle and Daemon's non-book gifts.
birthrightgreen: (feeling blue)
The morning was cold, with a fresh snowfall covering tracks that had been made yesterday and frosting the windows. She figured it had started to snow somewhere in the middle, but hadn't checked a timepiece to see exactly when. Instead she'd watched. Just watched. She hadn't moved from where she was curled under the covers. Hadn't unclenched her hand from the feathers, though now the muscles ached and were screaming at her to let go. It was only the insistence of her bladder that finally drove her from the nest she'd made in the bed. After she moved mechanically through her morning routine, she moved back to the bed, determined to try and get some sleep at least. But Graysfang was giving her a baleful look. He had his own way of getting out, so she just stared at him. He stared back.

"Oh, all right."

Boots and trousers, a sweater, coat, hat and mittens later, she felt distinctly unfeminine and ridiculous, but she had a happily prancing wolf at her side as they moved quietly outside. Lucivar would be up soon, if he wasn't already, but Surreal was rather determined to avoid practice this morning. Possibly even breakfast. With that thought in mind, she signaled to Graysfang and circled back around to the kitchen. Mrs. Beale was slightly more in charity with her today, since she'd been very careful to put the kitchen back to rights after making nutcakes yesterday. She grabbed the few that Daemon hadn't hoarded or devoured and tucked them in a napkin, then headed back outside where Graysfang was dancing the prancing dance of a male who needed attention. Now. Nevermind that she'd spent the night at home. In her bed. Alone except for him.

Bloody males.

Always springing things on you when you least expected it and least were prepared for it. Just when you thought you had figured out where you stood with them and were all right with that. You didn't expect more, because who would give more to a woman like you? She'd hoped for more once, only to have it borne home that she was what men wanted in the bedroom, but not elsewhere. Too difficult. Too competitive. Too strong. And now the two of them...

Both of them reducing her, her, to tears in one day. She'd blame her moontime, except it had just passed. She never cried. And if tears did escape some nights in the dark when the nightmares she'd never admit to having were too strong, she never let anyone see.

Graysfang was jumping around, throwing up snow at her. With a sigh she snagged a stick from a drift and hurled it for him, watching him run off after it, like it was the world's greatest treasure.

A new toy, a new plaything. If she moved to the Tower, moved in with Sam, one would come along. He'd grow used to her, or become irritated when she questioned things. And there'd be a new toy to go running off after, and she'd be left alone, waiting for him to come home, never knowing whose bed he was in. There'd be screaming and threats and a sincere desire to rip him into pieces that she would keep to herself because if her family found out...if Daemon found out...

She couldn't bear the shame of that twice. To be the tossed aside toy twice. To have to return home to them in shame, twice.

But it was becoming more and more clear that she couldn't stay here. It hurt too much, laced with a bittersweet joy that she'd never thought to know. Dreams she hadn't acknowledged in decades were poking their heads out in a most annoying fashion. She had to go before it got worse. Before she broke and begged. Before she abandoned everything she held dear and asked for the one thing that would damn her as the whore she knew she was. They didn't see her as that here, and she couldn't bear for them to. It galled her to admit how much their opinions meant, how much their love and affection meant.

She had to leave before she lost it. If not to Sam's, if she couldn't bring herself to take that step, if when they talked they couldn't work things out, then maybe to the townhouse in Amdarh. Society and the Season. There would be plays and balls and entertainments, and the Sa Diablo name would open doors, even if eyebrows were raised behind painted fans. Distractions. Maybe Sam would visit and they could go on as they were, if they couldn't go forward. Maybe in time they'd figure something out. It was selfish of her anyway, to always want what she couldn't have. She should be better than that, and be grateful for what she did have. It was more than she deserved.

Amdarh held welcome possibilities. It wasn't like she'd be abandoning the family. She could serve Jaenelle there. Move through the throngs and see what whispers there were of Dorothea and what might be coming to Little Terreille. People always talked in front of her. They liked to pretend she was invisible, and forgot themselves in the game. She could be useful in Town in a way she wasn't here. She wasn't a country girl, she thought, even as she hurled the stick for Graysfang again, much to his wriggling delight. She needed something to do. And the social intrigue of the city suited her. Being of some use would give her a purpose again.

After Winsol then. After they danced to the glory that was Jaenelle, when truly she would see that...maybe someday but not now. No matter how much it hurt. She wouldn't let them see. Couldn't. And so she'd go.

She rubbed her temples, the lack of sleep and repeated floods of tears leaving her with a headache.

After Winsol, she'd figure out where to go. And then maybe things would make sense again.
birthrightgreen: (I see you live by your charm)
It's time to let you go
It's time to say goodbye
There's no more excuses
No more tears to cry
There's been so many changes
I was so confused
All along you were the one
All the time I never knew

I want you to be happy
You're my best friend
But it's so hard to let you go now
All that could have been
I'll always have the mem'ries
She'll always have you
Fate has a way of changin'
Just when you don't want it to

Chorus:
Throw away the chains
Let love fly away
Till love comes again
I'll be okay

Life passes so quickly
You gotta take the time
Or you'll miss what really matters
You'll miss all the signs
I've spent my life searching
For what was always there
Sometimes it will be too late
Sometimes it won't be fair

I won't give up
I won't give in
I can't recreate what just might have been
I know that my heart will find love again
Now is the time to begin...

I'll be okay
I'll be okay
I can't hold on forever baby
I can't hold on forever baby
I can't hold on forever baby
Yeah, yeah
I'll be okay

Amanda Marshall, "I'll be okay"

OOC: Nothing to do with Sam, so don't let him freak out when he comes back to life.
birthrightgreen: (putting up hair)
She changed her dress three times. Then a fourth. Then went back to the second one she'd been wearing. She'd never worried about wearing anything too revealing out with Daemon before, but if he was going into protective mode...

Well. She hadn't anything dowdy and were she to wear something dowdy he might not go with her because she'd look so wretched. Daemon could be so particular about his clothes. She eyed the pile on the bed. Apparently that was another lesson he'd passed on. She settled on a simple gown, elegant and flattering of her slender figure and her coloring. Alluring but not a dress that she would have worn to work in.

Hair half up, half down, though she considered putting it all up to discourage errant fingers, but then couldn't do that. She liked those fingers far too much.

Loved them even.

Loved. She tried the word out mentally a couple of times. Loved. She loved his fingers. She loved his smile. She loved. Him.

She loved him.

"I love him."

And now Daemon was finally going to meet him. Jaenelle had gotten to, briefly, but Daemon...

She nibbled at her nail, then stopped, horrified at herself. Daemon first. Then, if that went well enough, Saetan. Lucivar.

But Daemon worried her most. Slipping her shoes on, she took a deep breath and reviewed the evening's plans.

She'd made arrangements for dinner in Amdarh at one of Daemon's favorite restaurants. Dinner was superb there and their wine list impressive. She thought Sam would approve.

Now, if she could just keep the two men civil and calm for the evening, things would be well. She cursed the Darkness for growly males in general, and Warlord Princes specifically and went in search of Daemon.

ooc: *g* we still need to play out Surreal telling Sam about the plans, but I figured I'd get this up if nothing else after Surreal and Daemon's chat tonight, as we're all playing a bit slow, and I have work tomorrow. :)

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