meadowlarklogs | she's a siren in the night, with streaks of red and blue

barbie dream house, new amsterdam, 2511

[ christmas dictates the sharing of gifts, that is the way of things. gaby thought she'd have a bit more time -- it was only july when she'd left east berlin, after all -- but the season is upon them. which finds gaby and daisy shopping on christmas eve like a pair of assholes.

at this point, croissants in hand and perched on a bench back in the apartment building's lobby, they're mostly people watching with their parcels spread around them. an old lady passes, talking to her equally old lady friend: "She had a stroke in Tesco, fell right into the salad bar."

gaby has to physically cover her mouth to keep from cackling out loud. old women are a riot on a bad day, absurd and always slightly racist, but this is a good day for overhearing the conversations of old ladies.

gaby is wiping tears of laughter from her eyes when she questions: ] Do you think I have to buy my fake family a Christmas present?

[ daisy considers the question for a whopping seven seconds — which is, coincidentally, the exact amount of time it takes her to chew her croissant bite, swallow, and then open her mouth again — before she answers. ]

I think you should wait to buy Peter a gift until after the second date, probably.

[ and then she goes back to eating her croissant, because she is an asshole. this has already been discussed, it is a fact. ]

I didn't buy Illya a gift, though. [ she made it. ] If he gets mad, I'm pitching him off the balcony.

[ instead of insisting they are not going on a date -- she hasn't been asked, daisy! -- gaby ignores the answer to the question she asked. ]

I do not think Illya would ever expect a gift. He is not very materialistic.

[ his watch made him see red, but daisy has that already. ]

He's just particular.

[ about most things, in his own way. the way his shirts are folded, the way dishes are stacked, the way the bed linens are arranged under the duvet. he may not collect material things, but he likes the things he does possess to be a certain way.

it makes her wonder if he'll like her gift, then, or find fault in it. too late to buy something now, though. christmas eve is practically over, and all the shops are long since closed. ]

Are you coming over tomorrow?

[ for dinner. they're having christmas dinner, the whole makeshift family of them, and obviously gaby is invited. ]

Will you let me say no?

[ gaby won't -- as much as she doesn't particularly want to celebrate the holidays or be social when she could be watching a film in bed with a drink and dampfnudel, she can have a drink and bring the dampfnudel to daisy's place.

but still. ]

[ what a ridiculous question. ]

No.

[ and gaby should know that, besides. daisy doesn't usually give invitations with the expectation that they'll be ignored... or even with the wiggle room for polite declines. she'd bullied jack and gabe into coming to her sinterklaas party, she could strong-arm gaby into attending. ]

I already told Illya you were coming, anyway.

That isn't fair.

[ gaby would say no to illya but she doesn't want to, not on christmas. daisy is a monster. she stands, holding out her hand for daisy to help her up. she is expecting a firm grip, she is not expecting the sudden memory to punch her in the chest. ]

[ daisy is a monster. selfish and demanding and unrelenting when she's made her mind up, she knows gaby's stubbornness and meets it with an impossible barrier in order to get what she wants.

but it works, and it will make illya happy, and gaby won't die for having had christmas dinner with friends, so daisy does not feel bad. ]

I know.

[ and she knows, too, that she'll help gaby get to her feet. what she doesn't know is the memory. unlike a dream, she is not in it; instead, she watches through gaby's eyes — being handcuffed into the vehicle, being driven through water up to her neck, illya's wild glare and solo's smug face. she watches and winces and aches as the vehicle rolls, as she's dragged from the vehicle, as solo is struck and illya comes lumbering into frame.

it's a short memory, only minutes, but the heaviness of it weighs on her all the same. as it ends, and new amsterdam falls back into view around them, daisy lets out a shaky breath. ]

Let's go up.

[ she needs a drink. she thinks gaby needs one too. ]

[ gaby sways on her feet, looking spooked, drawing her hand back before she can think of how it might come across to daisy. her head dips in a nod before swiveling to look around -- were they unconscious? were they glowing? did gaby cry out in reality the way she had when the jeep rolled down the mountain?

no one is so much as giving them a second glance. ]

Yes. Let's.

[ she strides right to the elevator, hand lifting to idly rub at her shoulder as phantom pain brings remembered aches all over again. ]

[ it helps that daisy has had her own dreams. dreams that feel like memories, dreams that ache when she woke and caused pain while she slept. it helps that daisy has felt that discomfiting awareness that someone else has seen your pain, and has been comforted through it. cassian may not be the most jovial man alive, but comfort had been a surprising measure of his talent.

daisy just hopes she can measure up. or at least distract gaby from that ache.

when they're safely ensconced in the elevator, the doors closed around them, she murmurs: ] He really threw a motorcycle?

[ how over the top. ]

Minus one of the wheels.

[ it wasn't a whole motorcycle, it was 2/3s of a motorcycle. why she is insisting on being pedantic about it, no one knows. maybe it focuses her, sloughs off the memory of cold rain and colder water. ]

He was... determined.

[ perhaps because illya is so tall, any chance to kneecap him a bit with critique is one that must not be passed up. only two-thirds a motorcycle makes him a little more human. ]

He didn't want you to get hurt.

[ he still doesn't, daisy thinks. and neither does she. gaby is family, in a way — illya's first, but daisy cares about gaby now, as a friend and as something more important. she could dwell on that, say something sentimental and soft, but she doesn't think it would help... or that gaby would necessarily feel comforted by it. if anything, after what she'd involuntarily shared, it might make her feel less in control.

so, instead, daisy opts to lead her out of the elevator, down the hall, into the foyer of their apartment; she makes a wide gesture at the expanse of the living room before ducking into the kitchen, where she busies herself in gathering the necessary ingredients for a drink. two beers, this time, though gaby can request something stronger if she wants.

the surface of the fridge has a digital display, where notes can be left via implant — today, it reflects a mostly completed shopping list, though there are a few things noted for pick up in the morning. ]

Do you want anything at dinner? Any weird German traditions you can't live without?

Not now that you have called them weird.

[ not that gaby really cares, this is how daisy talks and she doesn't take offense from it. prompto wants to bake a german cake with her and she's already been to the christmas market, that is enough of her familiar traditions to make her feel like this christmas is worth celebrating.

she moves to sit on the couch, perching on the very edge to look out over the city sprawled out beneath them. gaby's apartment is on the second floor, it's not nearly as posh. ]

I don't-- I don't feel that way anymore.

[ she knows what daisy felt: the shivers of affection and care and maybe almost what could have become love if they had the time, but they didn't and gaby has spent the last month trying to excise those emotions with surgical precision. ]

[ daisy doesn't say anything at first. she simply crosses to the sofa, placing one of the beers in gaby's hands before dropping to sit cross-legged in the armchair opposite. for a moment, all she does is take a considering drink of her beer, using it as an excuse for time to figure out what she wants to say. ]

I wouldn't be mad at you if you did, you know. [ there is no one else home, and yet they are both quiet, the raw honesty of the conversation louder than either of their voices. ] He is... [ she pauses, something shifting in her voice, ] Difficult like that, I guess.

[ he's an impossibly stubborn man who is hard to get close to, but equally impossible to forget once you had. she cannot blame gaby for feeling something for illya, either in present or past tense. how could she? gaby had good taste. (well, sometimes. daisy is still unsure about the whole takeshi thing.) ]

I never wanted to replace you, Gaby.

[ in his life, she means. she's always tried to make sure there was room for her here. to feel welcomed and appreciated and wanted, in all the ways daisy could make room for her to be. ]

[ there is no way on earth (any earth) that daisy could replace gaby, not in part because gaby is lying trash garbage and daisy is excellent and kind and compassionate and everything gaby is simply not.

it isn't comparable like that, gaby isn't replaceable because daisy held a spot gaby never had. ]

Illya is my friend. That is more than we were before.

[ taking a long pull of the beer, she sighs out. ]

I am happy you found him. He and Solo are stupid, they need people to look after them.

[ it's a simple statement, but a relief all the same, all too evident in the way daisy's expression softens, relaxes. ]

You know, I only knew Solo for basically five minutes before he fucked off again, but I'd agree with you there. [ the guy! was an asshole! ] He is stupid.

[ illya is stupid in a different way. but then, so is daisy. or maybe it's just that she's stupid about him. ]

He has that effect on people.

[ he is very dear to gaby, partly because he did actually get her out of east berlin so she owes him that. doesn't mean she wouldn't step out of the way and allow someone to punch him.

just not illya. ]

You know, he threw a piece of my own car once.

[ rip car. ]

[ for a brief, damning moment, daisy is confused. who threw the car piece? was it stupid solo with his insistence on fashion choices? no, that couldn't be right. the man had muscles, she remembers that much, but he wasn't superman.

illya was the one who threw the motorcycle. ]

I thought you were the mechanic.

[ funny joke. ]

Was he trying to help?

No, he was trying to keep me in East Berlin.

[ soviet occupied and all, that is where the kgb had power. it makes sense, doesn't mean her nose doesn't wrinkle thinking about it. she is still very happy solo got there first. ]

He ripped the back bumper right off my car and then through it at us.

[ russian hulk. that memory would have been easier to share. ]

Oh.

[ yeah, that would make sense. he was with the kgb and all. daisy realizes after a moment that she doesn't know much of how gaby and illya got to know each other. clearly, it was not a romantic meet-cute. ]

That probably voided the warranty.

[ she's so funny. ]

she's a siren in the night, with streaks of red and blue

closed to daisy » into the car baby bleed the gas, fast is fast never turning back

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