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expressandadmirable · 6 years

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Wait For It

Death doesn’t discriminate between the sinners and the saints It takes and it takes and it takes And we keep living anyway We rise and we fall and we break and we make our mistakes And if there’s a reason I’m still alive When everyone who loves me has died I’m willing to wait for it I’m willing to wait for it

To Aviva’s surprise, no-one protested when she broached the topic of a detour to Corneria during their flight toward Onrac. In fact, Cid immediately brightened at the idea of stopping for some real Cornerian street food. The stalls in Crescent Lake were good, and the strange magical food maker on the Highwind was adequate, but they both knew the food in their home city was the best in the world.

They agreed on a single afternoon’s visit before continuing on their journey, allowing enough time to run their errands but not enough to distract from the task at hand. Upon landing as unobtrusively as an airship could land on the outskirts of the city, Wilhelm immediately departed for the Academy libraries, while Maergrahn wandered at a more leisurely pace in search of a guidebook and souvenir stand. Sol opted to remain aboard the Highwind, ostensibly to stand guard but truly to take advantage of the peace and quiet. Grummer, armed with a list of recommendations from Aviva, peeled off on a quest to buy the largest hookah he could find; watching his back until he disappeared onto a side street, Aviva and Cid began their epicurean quest.

After an animated debate over the best tavern, stall or food cart in the city, Aviva acquiesced to Cid’s desire for bao and followed her through the press of the central market toward a brightly-coloured shop with a large open window set into the front. A round-faced Human stood in the window, calling jovially to passersby; though she eyed the pair as they approached, her suspicious expression quickly crinkled into a smile when they reached the counter. “What can I getcha?”

Cid ordered for them both, rattling off her request with the ease of a regular, and Aviva realised she had probably been so before destiny stole her away. The shop owner, however, did not recognise the towering Lefein as the friendly little Gnome from up the street and seemed greatly impressed by her knowledge of the menu. Cid flushed, though whether it was due to pride or a pang of nostalgia, Aviva could not tell.

“Okay, you win,” Aviva mumbled through a mouthful of bao as they meandered around the edges of the market. “This was the right choice.”

“Told you!” Cid wobbled her head, confident in her decision yet pleased nonetheless by the Tiefling’s vote of approval. “I used to come here all the time with my papa. He tried to make it at home sometimes, and it was good, but it was never as good.”

“Your papa’s back at the shop by now, yeah? Are you going to go see him?”

Cid stopped abruptly, her face darkening, and it took Aviva a step to realise she was no longer at the Lefein’s side. She turned as her friend shook her head. “No. Not yet. I…” Her eyes flicked down to her still-new form, then back to the Tiefling. “I don’t think I’m ready to have that conversation.”

Aviva nodded, quietly regretting her choice of topic. “Okay.”

“I think I’ll go by the shop, though?” Cid mused aloud. “Have a look? Make sure everything’s okay?”

“Change the sign in the window?” Aviva offered with a small smile. “‘Gone to save the world’?”

“I won’t have to change the sign if he’s there!” Cid laughed, her face losing some of its worry. She shifted her gaze to the wide flight of stone steps at the far end of the market, leading up and away toward a broad cobblestoned square. “I think I’ll head there now. Check in on him.” She brightened further as a thought occurred. “Maybe I’ll write him a letter and slip it under the door.”

“I think that’d be nice.” The Tiefling tilted her head. “Do you want company?”

Cid shook her head. “This is something I need to do by myself.” She softened. “Thank you though.”

“Always.”

“I can meet up with you after, though? At your mama’s shop?”

“That’s where I’ll be.”

Lapsing into a brief silence as she finished her bao, Cid gestured to the stone steps, her expression distant. “If the breeze blows the right way, you can smell all the food in the market from our shop. Sometimes I would leave my window open at night so the smell of baking bread would wake me up in the morning.” Her eyes shone as she spoke. “If papa saw the window, he’d go out and buy bread for our breakfast. Every time, he would tell mama to blame me for putting the idea in his head.” Another silence. Then: “Maybe I’ll buy him some bread, too.”

Giving the Lefein an affectionate pat on the shoulder as she passed, Aviva tracked the mass of white-blonde hair as it faded into the chaos of the market. The same market she had visited her entire life, utterly unchanged in her absence. She debated paying a visit to her old haunts, catching up with friends and comrades, but abandoned the idea as soon as it came to her. Cid was right. Those conversations were too complicated for one afternoon. If there was a next time, she would have them then.

She lit a cigarette and started walking, somewhat absently, turning away from vendors hawking their goods and entering her own personal labyrinth of alleys and back streets, the press of shadowed walls as intimate as a lover’s embrace. The city of her childhood stood exactly as it always had, raucous and vibrant, a living thing. Did it know? Did it have even an inkling of the darkness encroaching on the world? Did it know what she and her friends had been through to save it? To save everything? It did not matter. It was their destiny to fight, perhaps to die, in the service of the world. She wondered who would remember them.

All at once, the alley opened onto a familiar boulevard and the leather shop stood before her, shuttered and quiet. It, too, had not changed, though it stood in stark contrast to the rest of the shops along the street, all of them bright and open for business. It had never been an impressive structure, lacking the attractive half-timbered design of its neighbours, its only distinctive feature the faded purple door at its centre. But it was home.

Her heart hurt as she stared at the building that once housed her entire world. One day, as a child, she had come home from school to find vulgar words and the crude depiction of a bull scrawled across the lovingly painted door. She could no longer recall which cruelties the vandals had chosen to leave, only the badly-hidden defeat on her mother’s face as she resigned herself to repainting the door -- again. Now, its colour dulled with time, that door held only a simple sign announcing to customers that the shop was closed until further notice and apologising for the inconvenience. She almost rolled her eyes. Only her mother would apologise for closing her own shop.

Slipping through the alley to their tiny back courtyard, she left a stone from the banks of Crescent Lake on the Goddess’ altar before letting herself inside. The workshop air was thick with the scent of leather and dye, her mother’s constant perfume. She continued into the shop and rounded the stairs to the flat above, taking a deep, steadying breath before ascending.

The inside of the flat was as dim as the shop below, but her eyes had never minded the dark. The kitchen and living area were as tidy as she had left them months ago, cleaning late into the night to soothe her anxious mind as she teetered on the precipice of destiny. She ran a hand along the smooth wood of the kitchen table, feeling a pang of absurd disappointment; some small part of her had hoped to see signs of life, some evidence her mother had returned, safe and sound despite everything. It was a foolish hope, she knew. The house was empty.

Fishing a ratty canvas bag from the linen closet, she set about gathering items from throughout the flat. A spare belt, extra trousers and tunics (why not take advantage of living in a cabin with drawers?), new violin strings, a blanket she had missed, a stoppered glass vial filled with ash. She surveyed the instruments in her room, finally selecting the left-handed guitar and throwing a capo, glass slide, spare strings and a number of picks into the bag. Having another avenue for music ought to keep her busy for awhile.

The flat was not large, consisting of an open kitchen and living room, a small storage room mostly filled with leather supplies, her room, and her mother’s room. She had stopped thinking of it as her parents’ room fairly quickly after her father’s passing, but she wondered if her mother ever had. Tapping arhythmic patterns on the doorknob to quell the sudden surge of anxiety, it took her several full minutes to open the door.

She had not looked in on her mother’s room before she left Corneria months ago, but she was not surprised to find it immaculate. Much like the shop below, her mother had somehow known she would be gone for some time and had left nothing out of place. The stack of thick gold bracelets was missing from the dresser, which she found oddly comforting; it meant her mother was wearing her favourite jewellery, wherever she was. She considered lying down on the bed, crawling under the covers as she had done so many times when she was little, but she did not. The bed had only been safe because it contained her mother’s arms. Instead, she picked up the item she wanted from the bedside table and made a hasty exit, closing the door firmly and definitively behind her.

The roof. That was where she wanted to go. To see the city as she knew it best, to sit in her favourite spot and let music drift over the slate and thatch and terra cotta like smoke from a hearth. Slinging the guitar across her back and the bag over one shoulder, she opened the shutters of her bedroom window and clambered out, up, and over.

The roof was the only place the lack of change seemed natural; aside from the chimneys and the rainwater tank at the far end, there was nothing to see but flat stone, sun-warmed and inviting even in winter. Settling cross-legged near the front lip of the building, she pulled the guitar into her lap and retrieved the slide from the bag. The guitar was badly in need of tuning, and the strings would soon need to be replaced, but she did not mind. It was an opportunity too precious to waste.

* * *

“Lux? Umm… Aviva?”

The Tiefling palmed the strings of her guitar, her ears pricking up at the sound of her name. The sun was low over the bay; evidently, she had lost track of the hour quite awhile ago. At least it had given her plenty of time to think. She stood, fighting off the feeling of pins and needles in her legs and at the base of her tail, and poked her head over the edge of the roof to see Cid looking at the shop in confusion. “Hey honeybee!” she called, grinning at the face tilting in her direction. “Come on up! The back door’s open, and if you go through--”

And then Cid was beside her on the roof, iridescent angelic wings folding and vanishing against her back.

Aviva blinked. “Or, yeah, you could do that. Showoff.” She smiled as Cid giggled. Letting it fade, she considered her first question; then, softly: “Did you see your dad?”

“No,” Cid sighed. “Shop was closed. But the sign was different, so he must have been back recently. I wrote a letter and left it under the door, then went for a walk in the Garden District. Nothing’s in bloom, but it’s still pretty green. It was nice.” She looked out over the rooftops. “It’s beautiful up here.”

“Best view in the city,” Aviva declared with a broad wave of her hand. “I’ve probably spent more time up here than anywhere else in the world.” She let her arm fall back to her side. “It’s weird to be back, though.”

Cid cocked her head. “How so?”

“I don’t know.” Aviva shrugged. “I guess I expected something to be… I don’t know,” she repeated. “Different.”

“Yeah,” Cid agreed quietly. “Everything around here is the same. It’s us who have changed.”

For a long moment, neither spoke. Then Aviva cleared her throat. “I’m not sure I ever just… thanked you. For coming with me in Deepgift. Or maybe I did, but it doesn’t feel like enough.” She chewed her lip. “I know it didn’t… I didn’t… Well, it could have gone better.” She offered a lopsided grin as Cid snorted, then removed the slide from her finger and reached for her friend’s hand. “But I don’t think I could have held out without you beside me. I don’t know if I could have said no, and ‘no’ was the only right answer I could give. You helped me do that.”

Cid squeezed her hand, her fingers long and graceful, her grip warm. “I know you still feel guilty. But it was my choice to go. You’d have done the same.”

Returning the squeeze, Aviva smiled. “That’s what Elerian said, too.”

“Well, maybe you should start listening!”

A huffed laugh. “I’m learning.”

“I know.” Cid paused, mulling over her words. “And, honestly? Really, truly honestly? Jaxa sort of… did me a favour, if you want to look at it that way. This me feels like the me I’m supposed to be. I feel good like this. I feel… right.” She shrugged. “Would have been nice to find a mellower way to bring that about, but.” It was Aviva’s turn to snort. Cid fell silent for a beat, gazing out over the city. “I don’t blame anyone for being sad. We feel what we feel. It’s just a lot to shoulder when I’m also trying to figure things out for myself. I’m the same, but I’m different. It’s a lot to think about.”

Moving to sit, Aviva tugged on Cid’s arm to join her. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Following the Tiefling’s lead, Cid plopped down beside her, stretching her legs out and leaning back on her palms. “I don’t know. I’m still sorting through a lot.” She squinted into the distance as she thought. “It was nice to be unknown in Crescent Lake. People stared because I’m a big tall Lefein, but not because they knew who I was. I didn’t have to answer any questions, didn’t have to explain what happened. I could just be… alive.”

Aviva winced, but said nothing.

“Being back here is different,” Cid continued, a confused frown playing across her features. “Like you said, it’s all the same, but I’m different. Everything is right where I remember, but I see it differently -- I mean literally, it all looks so much smaller now, so much further away. I knew the lady in the bao shop, but she didn’t recognise me, and now I’m not sure mama and papa will recognise me. I’m not sure how to feel about that.”

“We feel what we feel,” Aviva murmured. “For what it’s worth, I bet your parents will recognise you. Family has a way of adapting to change, even big change, and a daughter creating a new body certainly ranks up there -- and, to be fair, the concept of building a new body isn’t entirely outside your mama’s wheelhouse. What’s important is that they’ll love you no matter what you look like, or how easily you fit into their chairs.”

Despite herself, Cid chuckled. “At least their house in Scanderimus has you-sized rooms. The flat above the shop here is just a you-sized attic my parents converted into a them-sized home. I’ll have to sleep in the workshop or something.” A sudden cloud passed over her face as she realised the painful symbolism of her statement.

“They’ll figure it out,” Aviva said with a confident nod. “They’ll find a way to make it work. It may not be a quick or easy adjustment, but they’ll make it. They’re your family and they love you. Just like we do.”

“Yeah,” Cid breathed, the corners of her lips twitching just slightly. “I know.”

“Can I show you something?” Lifting the guitar from her lap and setting it aside, Aviva reached into the canvas bag. “My family has had it my whole life, and it’s the main reason I wanted to stop in Corneria. Just for this.” She produced a thick, flat object and held it out to Cid, who accepted it delicately and turned it over to look.

Behind a thin pane of glass, two Tieflings smiled, hand-sketched and lovingly painted. The man, tall and broad and sporting a short braid in his plum-coloured hair, had an arm wrapped around the woman’s shoulders, his face angled toward her with an air of playful adoration. She, petite and incredibly pregnant, had been captured mid-laugh, pressing a hand to her belly for support as she nestled herself against his side. Her hair was dark, braided over one shoulder, but the hue of her skin and the curve of her horns mirrored the Tiefling on the roof so precisely that her identity was impossible to mistake.

Cid exhaled slowly, holding the wooden frame with reverence. “Your whole family.”

“Yeah. My papa’s best friend Pippa drew this as a gift to them -- the week before I was born, though she didn’t know that part at the time. I was born a couple weeks early, and she used to joke that if she’d waited just a few days, she could have included me in the picture properly.”

“Your papa was very handsome.”

“I’ve never met a man who could surpass him.” Aviva’s smile was soft and fond. “My mama was twenty-two when she had me, and the age I am now is the age she was when she lost him. I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately.”

Resting her hand on Aviva’s knee, Cid nodded sympathetically. “That’s a heavy thing to sit with. I know how much you miss him. And her.”

“It made me realise something, though. There were people who thought she wouldn’t make it, that she’d just waste away without him. But she had me. We got through it because we had each other… just like you, and Halei, and Grummer, Wil, Maergrahn and I will get through this because we have each other. Because we’re family. A weird, found, slightly dysfunctional, but ultimately loving family.” She flushed. “It sounds kinda cheesy when I say it out loud.”

“That’s okay,” Cid grinned, her own weight seeming to lift just a little. “I like it anyway.”

Suddenly, something hard bumped into Aviva’s low back. She yelped in surprise, twisting with arm raised and ready to fire, but she stopped before she could gather the magic. “Well, look who it is!”

A large ginger cat stared back at her, utterly unfazed by the prospect of being roasted by magical flame. He stepped forward as Aviva lowered her hand, pressing his head into her palm. “My starman.”

“You know this cat?” Cid asked, stunned. “This is the cat who used to come into the shop and knock all my things over and nap in the sun!” She laughed in delighted shock. As if knowing he was the subject of their conversation, the ginger cat turned his attention to Cid, rubbing against her outstretched hand. “Is his name Starman?”

Aviva shook her head. “Nah. That’s just what I called him sometimes. He’d come sit up here with me and we’d stargaze together, so he became my starman.” She stroked his back as Cid scratched under his chin. “But it’s a pretty good name. Good to see you again, buddy.” He purred in response.

For a few minutes, they lavished attention on the ginger cat, until Aviva finally sighed. “We should be getting back, it’s near dark. I kind of wish we’d decided to spend the night here, though. We could go dancing.”

“Dancing?” Cid raised a brow. “What kind of dancing?”

“No kind, just dancing. For fun. There’s a club not far from here that a friend took me to once. I went a few times by myself after that; dancing alone is surprisingly fun if the music is loud enough.” Aviva smirked. “You did say you wanted to try new things.”

“Maybe next time.” Cid stood, brushing off the backs of her legs. “How do we get down?”

“You mean you can’t just fly us down?” Aviva asked, feigning her best innocence.

Cid gave the Tiefling her best withering look. “I can only do that once a day, cheeky.”

“Alright, alright.” Aviva strapped the guitar to her back and led the way from the roof back to her bedroom, guiding Cid through the window and latching it behind them. When they exited the back door of the shop, the ginger cat was waiting for them on the cobblestones, yawning widely before twining around Cid’s legs. They each offered him some parting scratches in turn, then made their way through the alley and out into the street.

A thin sliver of moon rose to greet them as they ambled toward the edge of the city, the Lefein and the Tiefling, the angel and the devil. Throwing an arm over Cid’s shoulders, Aviva serenaded her with a ballad she’d heard in Crescent Lake, adding in just enough drama to make her friend squeal with laughter. They must have seemed a pair of professional drunkards, supporting each other so early in the evening, but Aviva did not mind. Sometimes a bit of silliness was called for.

“Don’t look now,” Aviva muttered as the houses began to alternate with small plots of farmland, “but I think we’re being followed.”

Cid tensed, ready to reach for the gun at her hip, but when she peeked over her shoulder, her expression softened. “Starman!”

The ginger cat chirped, trotting forward when they paused and pressing his body against Aviva’s shin. She crouched to run her hand over his back, peeking up at Cid with a coy smile. “Captain… He appears to have followed us home. Can we keep him?”

Frowning in thought, Cid folded her arms. “I don’t know… What if someone doesn’t like cats?”

“Every good ship needs a cat,” Aviva countered; as if to emphasise the point, the ginger cat flopped on the ground, showing his belly as he stretched his front paws expectantly toward Cid. “And besides, if Maergrahn has a duck, I don’t think anyone can say boo.”

“That’s a valid point,” Cid conceded. “Do you think he’ll try to eat the duck?”

“This lazy little shit?” Aviva scoffed. “The only reason he learned to hunt is because I couldn’t feed him every day. He was made to be a housecat.”

“Well…” Cid mused, making a show of indecision, then broke into a grin. “I think we have room for one more. Welcome aboard, Starman.”

The ginger cat yawned.

Life doesn't discriminate between the sinners and the saints It takes and it takes and it takes And we keep living anyway We rise and we fall and we break and we make our mistakes And if there's a reason I'm still alive When so many have died Then I'm willing to wait for it I'm willing to wait for it

Love doesn't discriminate between the sinners and the saints It takes and it takes and it takes And we keep loving anyway We laugh and we cry and we break and we make our mistakes And if there's a reason I'm by her side When so many have tried Then I'm willing to wait for it I'm willing to wait for it

(Femslash February is over, which means it’s Morgan March! It also happens to be the birthday of one of my dearest friends, Morgan’s player @stufflaalikes, so this story is a birthday gift to her. Featuring some heart-wrenchingly beautiful Lux family art by Sol’s player @b-e-m-l-t.)

#Dungeons and Dragons #Original Characters #Canon #Aviva Lux #Morgan March #Commissioned Art #Title: Hamilton #Happy birthday Laa!

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