Deck the Halls (does not mean punch them)

[touchofrogue]

Who: Rogue, Remy, those invited who decided to attend, and they’re probably not rude enough to turn down any passerbys who happen to come by and wish to attend
Broadcast: Nope
Action: In an out of the way room with a few smallish windows on the Iskaulit
When: December 23rd, 5ish-8ish


It was beginning to look a lot like Christmas, or it would have been if they were on an Earth calendar. For their celebration and memory-making, Rogue had selected a middle sized room on the edge with two small windows by which an occasional view of the ice planet below could be seen. There would be very few who would be tempted to steal such a familiar view, however, since Rogue had enlisted Loki’s aid in making Christmas decorations and he provided illusions with alacrity and skill.

Lights are strung about the room, housed in brightly colored glass balls. While at first they simply seem to be glowing ornaments, there is something odd about the flames. A close look will reveal they do not dance formlessly, but rather have the shape of tiny dragons. There are bright, evergreen wreaths with red bows, hung strategically about the place which are actually eternal knots, impossible to solve. In the corner immediately spotted upon entering is an illusion of a gorgeous Christmas tree, with decorations all in gold and sparkling lights at the end of each branch - even the smell of evergreen is mimicked flawlessly. Flanking the tree are two tables, one laden in all kinds of food that Rogue and Remy have cooked up, the other with the label ‘White Elephant presents here.’ Loki has also helped Rogue hook up her music to some sort of an audible projection, and she is initially going to be streaming traditional Christmas Carols done by such greats as Ella Fitzgerald, Norah Jones, and the Trans-Siberian Orchestra.

There are a few comfortable chairs set up along the opposite side of the room as the Christmas tree (just a few, as comfortable chairs are not that easy to find), by an illusion of falling silver leaves that provide a glow of soft light in the area.

The center of the room is free for dancing, or games, or standing about and talking. Remy and Rogue have done their best to make delicious finger foods, appetizers and heartier party fare. There’s delicacies that can be found sourced from the planet, various salted fruits, a small platter of apple slices with a caramel dip, and heartier fare in the way of stews and pastas, the sort of thing that could be put in a cup and eaten standing up. There are desserts as well, spice cookies and peppermint bark and a far too tiny chocolate cake. There is punch - ice strawberry - and Natasha’s gift of vodka, kept carefully separate from the punch, and there’s some leftover wine Loki had magically made more potent for the solstice that Rogue stole in case any of those with suped up metabolisms wanted the pleasure of getting buzzed.

Notably, there is no depiction of mistletoe.

Comments

[mucked]

We don't need to talk about Steve. [ she counters. but, then again, they don't need to talk about rogue either. and it's quite possible that they did need to discuss some elements pertaining to steve.

all the same, she obliges him by following his lead. ] Unless, of course, you have something in particular you care to address about Captain Rogers?

[redactions]

Me? No.

[ His heart's still hurting from their last talk, and it wasn't anywhere near a fight. Jim is waiting for the wound to close, or for the ice in him to numb it quiet. ]

Sounds like you've got somethin' on your mind.

[mucked]

Me? Not at all. Not really. [ she clears her throat and leans back in her chair. ] He owes me something. No more and no less.

[ she sounds as casual as she can, deciding it was best to dispense with the sentimentality as quickly as possible so she might get back to ribbing jim in good spirits. ]

[redactions]

[ He chortles. ]

You know, someone should maybe see to the mistletoe around here.

[ Rogue hasn't put it deliberately, he knows, she does little without purpose, doesn't mean he can't prod at Peggy in harmless fun. ]

[mucked]

[ oh, she gives him a look -- one marked with bare reproach, and just a little good will. the bolder side of personality wants to suggest to jim that he's a few weeks too late with that suggestion. but her better angels persevere, and she decides instead upon a honeyed smile. ]

You ought to bring its absence up with our hostess, [ she counter, wryly. ] Over a drink, perhaps. Or a dance.

[redactions]

[ He huffs a soft, amused sound, unbowed by her expression. ]

I don't dance. Speaking of drinks, what would you like?

[mucked]

[ what, she nearly drawls in an echo of a man long lost, you don't like music? ]

Unfortunately, I think I'll have what you're having. [ a pensive beat. ] Unless anyone has finally found some gin.

[redactions]

Comin' right up, [ he says, affably, and returns with two full glasses of punch. ] here. Cheers.

[mucked]

[ a toast, then. she raises her glass. ]

To -- yuletide cheer, I suppose. And to Ella Fitzgerald

[redactions]

[ He clinks his glass with hers, and sips, quietly. ]

Hope we get the next one at home.

[ Not the empty places they live, but some semblance of peace. They've more than earned it. ]

[mucked]

To home, [ she agrees. careful and circumspect within her agreement. home isn't all that terrible of a place for her, except that now she knows that to be here is to be alongside these faces. could she willingly leave it behind, given the opportunity?

she drinks deep. ] Can I ask a personal question, Jim?

[redactions]

[ free country, he nearly jokes. ]

Sure.

[mucked]

I never took you for a man who didn't dance. [ ... ] What changed?

[ oh, she knows what changed broadly. but what -- in particular -- had shuttered that part of him? ]

[redactions]

[ He shrugs, one-shouldered. ]

Shoes are too tight. Music ain't to my liking. Or I just don't have the right partner.

[ The last one is a lie, the kind of lie that's truth at the same time. Nat has him, every piece; Natasha here has a few as well, but not for the same reason. They circle like predators more than they ever dance for fun. ]

[mucked]

Now there is a reason I can respect. [ not the shoes -- not even, really, the music. but then he feeds her old line back to her and it's not the easiest thing to swallow. but she can taste its validity, whether he means it or not. ]

Stand-ins simply don't compare, do they?

[redactions]

[ Soft, heavy, ]

No, they don't.

[mucked]

[ she pins him (a moment) with her gaze. those tones -- that sound! -- puts her in mind of a man acutely aware of what he's lost. and for the first time, she begins to entertain the possibility that jim might have...had someone. some one person, and not a parade of doe-eyed dames.

now it's her turn to reach for his hand. ] You're certain I can't compel you to break your danceless ways, Captain? I'm perfectly at peace with being a fine and dandy stand-in.

[redactions]

[ His mouth twists, wry, and he's moved to brush his thumb along her hand. She speaks so lightly, from a place of care and a desire to protect her friend from his loneliness. ]

I've no doubt you could persuade me, Agent Carter, but I'm afraid I'll have to take a rain check.

[ She's a stand-in for nobody. Where the hell is Steve? ]

[mucked]

Your loss. [ she responds with a dramatic sort of sigh -- feigned, of course, because it's gentler to both of them if she plays this like a joke or a molehill-into-a-mountain. plays it for the laughs and the smiles and the sighs of relief.

she withdraws her hand so she can wag a finger. ] I can deduce which buttons I ought not to be pushing, I suppose.

[redactions]

[ The James Barnes of 1942 might've grinned wickedly and said something to the effect of being the Brooklyn Lindy Hop champion for three years in a row. Jim just quirks a small, wistful smile. The little joke a balm, the care a tourniquet. ]

Plenty a'others to aim at.

[ Perhaps the gentlest way he can say, I'm messed up and more than that, please help. They never spoke of these things, in their War, they carried on because they needed to. All the pieces of themselves they lost — some more than others — even after, not an open word. Not even now. ]

[mucked]

[ cold comfort on the eve of christmas eve. she tips her drink, and pretends as though she's at least considering his suggestion. ]

Plenty, certainly. But [ until he arrives... ] I'd rather wile away the evening right here. [ a ghost of a smile. ] If you'll have me.

[ that quiet plea of please help does not go unheard, and it roots her all the more to this chair and this corner and this man. ]

[redactions]

[ Some wounds heal not with aspirin but by breaking the bone to set it properly. He expects no less of Peggy Carter. ]

Careful. Ya might make a fella think y'like him.

[mucked]

My nostalgia has been unusually kind to you, Jim. [ her expression is wry. it hides the raw feeling below. ] Sometimes you don't quite realize how much you enjoyed spending time with someone until they're gone. Be charitable about it, won't you.

[redactions]

[ The easiest way she has of telling him he was missed. It's an uncomfortable feeling, a malaise that might spread. His mouth twitches. ]

Sorry.

[mucked]

You made your choice. [ both times, she ventures: on the train, and in the valkyrie. ] It's never been my place to hold that choice against you.

[ indeed, she'd lectured steve to that effect. and now she wonders who'd lectured jim barnes when the opposite tragedy had taken place in his timeline. after all, she can't imagine him having blamed anyone but himself. ]