User blog:Promestein/Starcross - Happy Birthday EQUINOX

It’s EQUINOX’s birthday, and she is out at a fancy restaurant that she’d really rather not be at today. Alice had gotten her to squeeze herself into clothes more befitting of this environment, something EQUINOX resents. She doesn’t want to force herself into a suit on her birthday. This is a day that should be spent lying around at home doing nothing of note, besides perhaps watching a bunch of stupid horror movies with Alice.

As if that was ever an option. Alice told her she could do anything she wanted today, but when she listed “examples”, it was clear that the choice was already made for her. So EQUINOX gave up. It was pointless. If she refused and made what she really wanted to do clear, Alice would bitch and whine, and it would turn into a fight and she would end up right here anyways. All because Alice wanted to do something for her. But EQUINOX didn’t want this. She certainly didn’t need this. Spending her birthday watching her wife pick through her dinner as if in search of needles was never the plan, but here she is. EQUINOX doesn’t understand why she ever eats out if she’s so paranoid about every dish that she hasn’t made herself. She watches her over the rim of her glass of wine as she empties it into her mouth again, feeling the swirl of alcohol wash around in her brain, pushing her down another level, closer to that warm feeling she wants so bad. The less sober she is for this, the better.

At least Alice is as radiant as ever. Sure, EQUINOX is suffering being dressed up on a day like this, but Alice makes it a little bit more bearable. EQUINOX, as tipsy as she already is, stares for a moment, appreciating the way her dress hugs her body and how, when she’s leaning over just a bit like this, she gets a nice, full view of her cleavage. It’s not like she couldn’t see this if they were just at home, though. The thought sours the experience, and EQUINOX returns her attention to her food.

It’s good food, but EQUINOX would really prefer Alice’s cooking. That was made with love, for just the two of them to share, and when it was her own food, Alice was actually more likely to enjoy it. She had started to make some actual process in her meal, which certainly looks good, but it’s still slow. EQUINOX’s almost finished, and it’s not like she was eating particularly fast. No, she was mostly focusing on destroying every last vestige of sobriety.

Speaking of, the waitress comes by and politely refills her glass. EQUINOX flashes her a small smile and murmurs a “thank you” before bringing it to her lips again. It’s not the best wine she’s ever had, but EQUINOX has never drinked for the flavor. For years, it’s been an escape, and it’s continued to loyally provide that service, even as Alice eclipses everything else. The alcohol is really my only true friend, she thinks to herself, feeling the sarcasm and self-loathing dripping off every mental syllable. She takes another sip.

“You’re drinking an awful lot,” Alice notes, quietly, looking at her out of the corner of her eyes while she spears something on her fork.

Ignoring the anxiety the acknowledgment creates in her, EQUINOX just shrugs and takes another sip to steel herself. It works. “It’s my birthday. Are you telling me I can’t get drunk on my birthday?”

“I never said that,” Alice looks kinda irritated now, raising her head to address her head-on, “I was just wondering if something was wrong.”

Before she can stop herself, the alcohol speaks for her, a whispered, almost spat, “I wouldn’t have been surprised if you did say that.”

A fork clatters against a plate, and Alice’s eyes narrow into a glare. ''Fuck. Fuck.'' EQUINOX’s heart pounds painfully, very painfully, in her chest. “Excuse me? What’s that supposed to mean?” Despite the anger that EQUINOX knows is there, Alice’s voice is even. Every word calmly, purposefully enunciated, communicating only the barest twinge of something less than annoyance.

Words like silk. Encouraging her to be truthful, but once she is, the jaws will snap shut and she’ll spend the night lying awake and trying not to cry as Alice’s arms wrap around her bruised body and her breath tickles her wrung neck. But she wouldn’t. Not here, at least. No. It’d be at home. The moment they got there.

“Hello?” Alice tilts her head, annoyance now obvious. “Don’t tell me you’re so drunk you’ve already zoned out.”

EQUINOX rapidly shakes her head, a movement that sends the world around her into nauseating acrobatics. “No. No. Sorry. It’s nothing. Didn’t mean anything.”

Obvious skepticism floods into Alice’s expression, which twists itself into the first real expression of genuine anger. Terror floods into EQUINOX’s chest and she waits, expecting the shattering of a plate and the feeling of her bloody face against the floor. But instead, Alice just holds her gaze and continues eating, glancing down at her plate. EQUINOX is spared from suffering through another moment of that oppressive stare.

Not that it matters.

The rest would happen at home.

On that night, hundreds of years ago, EQUINOX had been right. It did happen when they went home. Alice made it clear that such a thing was not something she could get away with, communicating it with the brute force only she could muster, but denying EQUINOX the snap of a wrist that would separate the cervical vertebrae from the thoracic. And then, as EQUINOX lie there broken, Alice cried as if this had not been the plan from the moment she opened her mouth to be a smartass, and then held her until the moment she could do as she pleased.

And, as damaged and drunk as she was, EQUINOX just lied there, praying that next time, next time, Alice would finally exercise mercy and crush her neck in her hands. But she didn’t. What had seemed cruelty back then is now just something that brings a small smirk to EQUINOX’s face. She bets Alice wished she had snapped her neck on that night, or one of the hundred others, as EQUINOX had torn her mechanical heart from her chest and crushed it in her fist. But she hadn’t. And now, one of them was alive and one was rotting, denied even a burial.

So who really came out on top, Alice? Who was really in control, Alice? Who got away with it all in the end?

The cold satisfaction EQUINOX takes in the far-away murder does little to change how it feels to remember that night, as if it’s engraved into her soul, as if it’s the movie on the screen in front of her, and Kyarne, whose fingers are intertwined with her own, who holds her close. She feels like a cutout in a sea of white noise, drowning in the sounds and sensations of a night so long ago. Insubstantial. Fleeting. Flickering.

Kyarne squeezes her hand gently, and EQUINOX feels a bit more real. “Happy birthday, honey,” she mumbles, so quietly that only EQUINOX could hear, and runs a finger or two through her hair, twisting a lock around the digit.

On-screen, Jason drives an ice pick through Alice Hardy’s skull, and EQUINOX finds herself smirking just a bit. In the end, she had gotten what she had deserved, a fate undeniably much worse than something so humane. But even that miserable end is only a fraction of everything EQUINOX imagines she deserved.