[OTP Christmas 2015] Day 11. Lights
Dec. 11th, 2015 09:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aftanithTitle: Lights
Author: AFTanith
Fandom: Parabellum (original fiction)
Pairing(s): Stelian Frost/Sparrow
Prompt(s): OTP Christmas 2015 Day 11. Lights
Sparrow had no idea why she let him talk her into this; everything about what they were doing tonight was completely absurd. It was easily below freezing outside, and that meant that this time last year, Sparrow would have been huddled into a corner of her bed, bundled under every moth-eaten, rarely cleaned blanket and quilt and coat she'd managed to get her hands on, trying to stave off the bitter chill of winter that stole ever bit of meager warmth from inside the too-thin walls of her Solares apartment. She'd never had the luxury of a heater before, and now that she had modern heating for the first time in her life, she wasn't sure she'd be able to go back to living without it when the time came. She guessed she'd just have to move somewhere warm.
But instead of staying inside and enjoying the blessing that was a seventy-five degree room in December while struggling to forget just how many people there were across the river who would give anything to experience it themselves, for some reason she had let Frost drag her out of the mansion where he'd imprisoned her for so long, and no amount of pointing out that this wasn't exactly what she had in mind when she'd said she wanted to get out more had been able to convince him to let her stay. This Beneficence kick of his was beginning to drive her mad, and now that it had her out in subzero temperatures, she was starting to think it might actually kill her, too.
So now she sat in the back of Frost's limo, all but smothered by the warmest coat she had been able to find. She had endured plenty of teasing from Loretta about it, and, admittedly, it was far from the most attractive article of clothing she'd ever seen in her life. Gigi likely would've had an conniption if she'd caught of glimpse of Sparrow in it, but Sparrow was quite through with the entire concept of fashion over comfort. She was thoroughly determined to never be cold again.
She could still feel the chill of the winter air against her face, though, as she leaned against the door of the limo, her nose only inches away from the glass. Normally, she wouldn't be sitting so close, not with the limo's own heating turned all the way up until it felt just as warm as the manor did--except right beside the glass. But up against a window she was, and it was all Frost's fault.
This was the first Beneficence Sparrow had spent in Proxima; the Culling didn't begin until the new year, and so she hadn't been taken from her home until January of last year, not December, which mean that she hadn't seen what this part of the city was like during the holidays before--or, at least, she'd had seen it up close.
She'd seen it from across the river, though. Once, she'd even briefly lived in an apartment near the beach and had herself a window that actually faced the rich part of the city, and since she'd been there around this time of year, she'd barely slept for weeks. She had always wondered after that why Proxima seemed to glow during December, the sky filled with an aura of light that shined across the river and grew brighter over the first few weeks of the month, only to disappear completely within the first few days of the new year. She'd never had a single guess of what it was or how the people living in that part of the city managed to sleep through it when even she couldn't, and yet she'd never cared enough to ask--nor, of course, had anyone ever cared enough to tell her, though she doubted she'd ever known anyone who'd seen it for themselves anyway. Any answer, she was sure, would just have been a guess. This year, however, Frost had cleared that mystery right up.
They were, quite simply, lights. Strings and strings of them, adding up to so many bulbs that Sparrow could've started counting a week and a half ago and never managed to finish before they were taken down for New Year. They were colorful and bright, reds and blues and greens and more, lining windows and porches and roofs and even trees--not Evergreens like the ones in the mansion but regular deciduous trees, lifeless and leafless and yet glowing with light. Sparrow was sure Frost would've called that "festive" too, if she was fool enough to ask him.
Knowing nothing good will come of it, Sparrow turned to Frost and asked her question anyway. "What's the point of all this?"
He didn't even look surprised anymore. Perhaps by now he simply thought she was playing with him, feigning her disinterest as a way of playing hard to get. That certainly sounded like the kind of ridiculous conclusion he'd jump to. "Holiday spirit," he answered yet again, and she was as amused by it as she had been ever other time this month.
"But the bills alone--"
"Are considered a small price to pay for keeping people's spirits up."
She rolled her eyes. "But isn't that the point of this holiday? Charity, giving? This is waste."
Unless she was much mistake, something genuinely serious crept into his expression at that. "It's about charity and giving, yes," he said, and there was something particularly aggravating about the deliberate patience in his voice, "but it's also about peace and hope. This is meant to bring the community together, to foster creativity and friendly competition and cheer."
Sparrow just shook her head. "Whatever."
"You disapprove, I take it?" He eyed her skeptically. "You really can't bring yourself to believe that this might actually make people feel better? And that there might be some value in keeping the people content?"
"Let's just say I'm not sure that Proxima deserves to be quite this content, considering how many people on the other side of the river would kill to have even a few of these lights. Not to bring holiday cheer, mind you, but so they can see at night."
Sparrow turned her body away from him, folding her arms over her chest and sinking down in her seat. She felt like she was sulking, and perhaps she was, but this was a conversation they kept having again and again, and she hated it every single time. Frost was never going to understand that she didn't find all this anywhere near as charming and fun as he wanted her to, and so he wasn't going to stop trying to make her see things his way. And, given how stubborn she was, that meant she wasn't going to stop trying to make him see things her way, too, though there was absolutely no chance of that ever happening.
"What would you have us do?" he asked after a moment. "Force people to stop their traditions out of guilt for people they've never met? All that would get us is hordes of angry citizens, and that's the last thing we need."
"Frost," Sparrow said, turning to him with a hard look in her eye, "if I had my way, each and every one of these people--you and your damn Circle included--would have to spend the rest of your lives living the way they do across the river. And believe me, most of you wouldn't last a single year."
"It's not--"
"Don't even think about telling me it's not that bad. You don't know anything about it. Sure, it wasn't that bad in that no, crushing poverty isn't the absolute worst thing on the planet. I think the Roughs probably have that market covered. But it's a hell of a lot worse than this, and no one here seems to give a single damn about it. If I hear one more empty, vapid word about charity and people's goddamn feelings I'm gonna fucking lose it."
She refused to look at him, disinterested in whatever it was she would see in his expression after that little outburst. Whether it was contemplation or condemnation, she didn't want to know.
Finally, after a long pause, he spoke again, his voice soft the way it always was when he was going out of his way to try and appease her. "I didn't mean to upset you with this, heart," he said. "I thought you might enjoy seeing the lights up close for once. The displays this time of year are always beautiful, and I had hoped you'd at least find them a bit interesting. Would you rather go home?"
Sparrow took a deep breath, then let it go. All she wanted to do, she thought, was go home. She wanted to go back to Solares, back to the miserable life she left behind so that she didn't have to feel like an outsider on this side of the river and a traitor to the one she'd life behind. But she wasn't going anywhere, and actually going back to Solares now that she was out of it would be nothing short of madness. For better or for worse, the mansion was her home--for now, at least--and she just had to get over that.
"No," she said, shaking her head. "Show me your stupid lights, okay? I'm sorry I'm such a buzzkill."
She glanced back up at him, and she was startled to see that there was something downright scheming in his eyes now. "We'll do something better for Beneficence next year, love," he told her. "Whatever you want."
She laughed. "I don't want more of--"
"What you want," he insisted. "However you want me to, I'll make it just as much about charity and giving as all of this extravagance. We're more than capable of pulling off both; you'll see."
Sparrow stared hesitantly at this most obvious of traps. She dreaded the idea of next year, but he wanted to make it a promise.
She gave him a faint smile, mostly feigned. "You can sure try, Frost. Maybe you'll even prove me wrong."
His arm snaked around her, and she let him pull her back against him inside the heated cabin of their car.
"I will," he murmured against her crown, and she let out the faintest hint of a scoff.
He truly seemed to believe it.
Author: AFTanith
Fandom: Parabellum (original fiction)
Pairing(s): Stelian Frost/Sparrow
Prompt(s): OTP Christmas 2015 Day 11. Lights
Sparrow had no idea why she let him talk her into this; everything about what they were doing tonight was completely absurd. It was easily below freezing outside, and that meant that this time last year, Sparrow would have been huddled into a corner of her bed, bundled under every moth-eaten, rarely cleaned blanket and quilt and coat she'd managed to get her hands on, trying to stave off the bitter chill of winter that stole ever bit of meager warmth from inside the too-thin walls of her Solares apartment. She'd never had the luxury of a heater before, and now that she had modern heating for the first time in her life, she wasn't sure she'd be able to go back to living without it when the time came. She guessed she'd just have to move somewhere warm.
But instead of staying inside and enjoying the blessing that was a seventy-five degree room in December while struggling to forget just how many people there were across the river who would give anything to experience it themselves, for some reason she had let Frost drag her out of the mansion where he'd imprisoned her for so long, and no amount of pointing out that this wasn't exactly what she had in mind when she'd said she wanted to get out more had been able to convince him to let her stay. This Beneficence kick of his was beginning to drive her mad, and now that it had her out in subzero temperatures, she was starting to think it might actually kill her, too.
So now she sat in the back of Frost's limo, all but smothered by the warmest coat she had been able to find. She had endured plenty of teasing from Loretta about it, and, admittedly, it was far from the most attractive article of clothing she'd ever seen in her life. Gigi likely would've had an conniption if she'd caught of glimpse of Sparrow in it, but Sparrow was quite through with the entire concept of fashion over comfort. She was thoroughly determined to never be cold again.
She could still feel the chill of the winter air against her face, though, as she leaned against the door of the limo, her nose only inches away from the glass. Normally, she wouldn't be sitting so close, not with the limo's own heating turned all the way up until it felt just as warm as the manor did--except right beside the glass. But up against a window she was, and it was all Frost's fault.
This was the first Beneficence Sparrow had spent in Proxima; the Culling didn't begin until the new year, and so she hadn't been taken from her home until January of last year, not December, which mean that she hadn't seen what this part of the city was like during the holidays before--or, at least, she'd had seen it up close.
She'd seen it from across the river, though. Once, she'd even briefly lived in an apartment near the beach and had herself a window that actually faced the rich part of the city, and since she'd been there around this time of year, she'd barely slept for weeks. She had always wondered after that why Proxima seemed to glow during December, the sky filled with an aura of light that shined across the river and grew brighter over the first few weeks of the month, only to disappear completely within the first few days of the new year. She'd never had a single guess of what it was or how the people living in that part of the city managed to sleep through it when even she couldn't, and yet she'd never cared enough to ask--nor, of course, had anyone ever cared enough to tell her, though she doubted she'd ever known anyone who'd seen it for themselves anyway. Any answer, she was sure, would just have been a guess. This year, however, Frost had cleared that mystery right up.
They were, quite simply, lights. Strings and strings of them, adding up to so many bulbs that Sparrow could've started counting a week and a half ago and never managed to finish before they were taken down for New Year. They were colorful and bright, reds and blues and greens and more, lining windows and porches and roofs and even trees--not Evergreens like the ones in the mansion but regular deciduous trees, lifeless and leafless and yet glowing with light. Sparrow was sure Frost would've called that "festive" too, if she was fool enough to ask him.
Knowing nothing good will come of it, Sparrow turned to Frost and asked her question anyway. "What's the point of all this?"
He didn't even look surprised anymore. Perhaps by now he simply thought she was playing with him, feigning her disinterest as a way of playing hard to get. That certainly sounded like the kind of ridiculous conclusion he'd jump to. "Holiday spirit," he answered yet again, and she was as amused by it as she had been ever other time this month.
"But the bills alone--"
"Are considered a small price to pay for keeping people's spirits up."
She rolled her eyes. "But isn't that the point of this holiday? Charity, giving? This is waste."
Unless she was much mistake, something genuinely serious crept into his expression at that. "It's about charity and giving, yes," he said, and there was something particularly aggravating about the deliberate patience in his voice, "but it's also about peace and hope. This is meant to bring the community together, to foster creativity and friendly competition and cheer."
Sparrow just shook her head. "Whatever."
"You disapprove, I take it?" He eyed her skeptically. "You really can't bring yourself to believe that this might actually make people feel better? And that there might be some value in keeping the people content?"
"Let's just say I'm not sure that Proxima deserves to be quite this content, considering how many people on the other side of the river would kill to have even a few of these lights. Not to bring holiday cheer, mind you, but so they can see at night."
Sparrow turned her body away from him, folding her arms over her chest and sinking down in her seat. She felt like she was sulking, and perhaps she was, but this was a conversation they kept having again and again, and she hated it every single time. Frost was never going to understand that she didn't find all this anywhere near as charming and fun as he wanted her to, and so he wasn't going to stop trying to make her see things his way. And, given how stubborn she was, that meant she wasn't going to stop trying to make him see things her way, too, though there was absolutely no chance of that ever happening.
"What would you have us do?" he asked after a moment. "Force people to stop their traditions out of guilt for people they've never met? All that would get us is hordes of angry citizens, and that's the last thing we need."
"Frost," Sparrow said, turning to him with a hard look in her eye, "if I had my way, each and every one of these people--you and your damn Circle included--would have to spend the rest of your lives living the way they do across the river. And believe me, most of you wouldn't last a single year."
"It's not--"
"Don't even think about telling me it's not that bad. You don't know anything about it. Sure, it wasn't that bad in that no, crushing poverty isn't the absolute worst thing on the planet. I think the Roughs probably have that market covered. But it's a hell of a lot worse than this, and no one here seems to give a single damn about it. If I hear one more empty, vapid word about charity and people's goddamn feelings I'm gonna fucking lose it."
She refused to look at him, disinterested in whatever it was she would see in his expression after that little outburst. Whether it was contemplation or condemnation, she didn't want to know.
Finally, after a long pause, he spoke again, his voice soft the way it always was when he was going out of his way to try and appease her. "I didn't mean to upset you with this, heart," he said. "I thought you might enjoy seeing the lights up close for once. The displays this time of year are always beautiful, and I had hoped you'd at least find them a bit interesting. Would you rather go home?"
Sparrow took a deep breath, then let it go. All she wanted to do, she thought, was go home. She wanted to go back to Solares, back to the miserable life she left behind so that she didn't have to feel like an outsider on this side of the river and a traitor to the one she'd life behind. But she wasn't going anywhere, and actually going back to Solares now that she was out of it would be nothing short of madness. For better or for worse, the mansion was her home--for now, at least--and she just had to get over that.
"No," she said, shaking her head. "Show me your stupid lights, okay? I'm sorry I'm such a buzzkill."
She glanced back up at him, and she was startled to see that there was something downright scheming in his eyes now. "We'll do something better for Beneficence next year, love," he told her. "Whatever you want."
She laughed. "I don't want more of--"
"What you want," he insisted. "However you want me to, I'll make it just as much about charity and giving as all of this extravagance. We're more than capable of pulling off both; you'll see."
Sparrow stared hesitantly at this most obvious of traps. She dreaded the idea of next year, but he wanted to make it a promise.
She gave him a faint smile, mostly feigned. "You can sure try, Frost. Maybe you'll even prove me wrong."
His arm snaked around her, and she let him pull her back against him inside the heated cabin of their car.
"I will," he murmured against her crown, and she let out the faintest hint of a scoff.
He truly seemed to believe it.
