Day of the Dead
a/n: It's November 2 on Mira. So somebody must be celebrating Day of the Dead, probably at the Repenta. This time, it's Rosalee and Lucky.
Warnings: Mescal, tango, sorrow and fluff. Good and bad poetry. Hard spoilers to the Lesson from the Grave quest (Sylvalum & Nopon). [The story continues at Modern Bromance Evolved/2.]
All the good things belong to Monolith Soft, like the whole central section with Kupee, his marker, and the good poetry. Bad lyrics are mine, as well as the siblings Rosalee & Lucky (Diego) [featured in Rosalee, but this stands alone].
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The Repenta Diner was transformed for the night. Rosalee stood, hands on hips, inspecting the results. Twinkly lights had replaced the brighter fixtures, and bright tissue paper streamers fluttered from the ceiling. Flowers spilled down the walls. She'd convinced some Collectors to bring her the smallest Noctilum flora they could find. They'd returned with blooms the size of cauliflowers, and glowing in reds and blues. Not orange, that hadn't happened, but she'd see about that next year.
Her brother's band would be playing, but not on the center stage. That area had been given totally over to the altar. If the walls dripped flowers, the table on the stage was practically collapsing beneath them, with candles fighting to be seen amongst them. Add to that the sparkle of sugar skulls, their white faces peering out from beside plates of fruit and round loaves of bread, and the glint of bottles of various liquids.
Rosalee wiped her eyes. The flowers, the skulls, the candles, they just took space. They weren't what filled the ofrenda. The photos were the thing that really drew your eye. She'd put up one for Mama, and Lucky had shyly offered one of Diego. All their friends, everyone they'd invited, had sent her a photo or two, and she'd made sure that each and every one was there, safe in its own silver frame, surrounded by these not-orange flowers and things that resembled pomegranates or sugar cane, the best that Mira could offer for this day. It wasn't home, it wasn't right, but it had to be good enough.
"This is beautiful," said Arya, coming up behind her. She was wiping her hands on a bar towel, having made sure of a few last minute preparations. The diner's manager had been enthusiastic when Rosalee had first suggested a Day of the Dead party, and had done everything to make it a success.
"Thanks. I haven't done this in years." Her aunt always used to throw a big party, she remembered. The rest of the family had left it to Tia Lupe, mostly. Rosalee hoped she'd approve.
"I gotta say, you've gone all out."
"I'm not the only one." Rosalee gave a slight smile. "I hear you have something special for tonight."
Arya twinkled like a candle. "It's no secret. Alexa's been crowing about it for a month now. Miran mezcal debuts tonight."
"I'm looking forward to it."
That was the last quiet conversation held in the bar for the rest of the evening. Lucky and a crew of amateur musicians crashed through the door, and immediately began arguing about the best location to set up. No amplification. Rosalee had insisted. The bar would be crowded enough that they didn't need to turn everything into an absolute shouting match. Trumpets didn't really need that much added power to fill a room, and Lucky wasn't a slouch himself when he opened his throat and poured out his heart.
Rosalee and Arya took it by turns, greeting people at the door, taking them on a tour of the altar. Everyone had a story and a toast. Rosalee was careful to take the smallest of sips each time. Even then, she was feeling somewhat warm by the time the bar was half full. Not relaxed, but solidly placed in this evening.
"Rosalee!" She turned to identify the excited voice, shouting her name.
"Hey, Alexa. Good?"
"I love it. Thank you for putting my family in the center. My dad would have loved this."
Rosalee hadn't actually placed Alexa's photo at the center, but she supposed that was what it felt like to her. Maybe it felt like that to everyone. The altar was made just for their own loved one, with a cloud of other faces to keep them company.
"Man, I am so stoked to finally try my masterpiece."
"You haven't had any yet?" Rosalee asked in surprise.
"Nope. Once I realized that we'd get the mezcal done around the end of October, I decided that I wouldn't try it until tonight. Almost killed me, but I have been a very good girl."
"So … what if it's disgusting?"
"Don't worry. I got a few people to test it for me. I even put something up on the Mission board."
Rosalee wrinkled her nose. "I can hardly think that Eleonora approved."
"Totally legit, Ro! I needed somebody to check to make sure that Professor B wasn't going to accidentally poison us all. Lab tests, Rosalee, lab tests! I'll admit, there were some pretty disappointed applicants for the job. They thought I was offering early tastes."
"But how will it taste?"
Alexa leaned in. "Doug tried it and pronounced it okay," she whispered. "And Frye. I figure that's plenty of experience to validate it."
"Frye would drink paint thinner," Rosalee whispered back.
"So he knows the whole range." Alexa paused for a second. "Hey, Rosalee, do you think it would be alright, if Doug and I did a special dance?" she asked slowly.
"It's not just my party. You'll have to convince the rest of the people on the dance floor," Rosalee pointed out. "But sure, I'll help. Do you need me to get Lucky's band to play something in particular?"
"Naw, we got it covered. I just didn't want to bust things up."
"Mescal provider deserves special treatment." A group of Nopon passed by, carrying an uneven bundle of yard sticks and twine, cutting directly through the dancers and heading towards the altar. "Excuse me, I need to check on those guys."
By the time Rosalee had reached them, they were already busily building a rickety structure. "Hold on, you can't just prop stuff up wherever you like …" she objected.
Her words had no effect on most of the group, as they continued to strap twigs to branches to dangling rocks. However, one Nopon turned and stopped his work. "This important altar from Sylvalum. We use it to remember great treasure given to us by Mysteroid friend. A treasure that destroys this world, and births the new."
"Whoa, whoa, that's too dangerous to have around a crowd!"
"Too late. Friends already have it." The pink Nopon smiled sweetly up at her. He was adorable, even for his people, with pretend wings strapped to his back. He gestured to the ofrenda. "All your pictures? Those are records of your treasure. What we build is replica of Mysteroid marker, made to remember lost friends. It work as space beacon too, I think."
Rosalee gave it a hard glance. The Nopon had built an open tripod of branches, tall enough to brush the ceiling, spindly, and webbed lightly with silver grey strands. Perched at the top was a large shell or carapace, cradling a stone tablet inscribed with alien swirls. The whole was dotted with glowing green and blue stones. "Naturally, we build smaller version for inside, but friend get the idea."
"I'm not sure about this."
"Ah. I was hoping I would see this," said a gentle but commanding voice.
"Kupee promise Secretary that Dopang Caravan bring our very best, and we have."
"I wasn't convinced you would manage it," Nagi said severely.
The Nopon frowned up at the human. "Even if Kupee still not clear on this love business, he know an important thing when he hear about it. Not giving up until it solved, or maybe find better treasure."
"Highly unlikely." He nodded to the Nopon as the alien wandered away to rejoin his companions.
Rosalee had regained her cool. "Sir. I'm pleased you came to the event."
"I wouldn't miss it."
"So you know what this thing is?" She gestured to the array of sticks and rocks.
"It's a grave marker, or rather, a replica of one, for a species that visited this planet before our arrival. Sadly, they were not as successful as we have been. A pity. I think they might have made fine allies." He considered the display.
"And it's also a location beacon, somehow?" she asked uncertainly.
"Metaphorically. Love was the guiding principle for this lost species. As I said, I wish we could have met them."
She stared at the creation with new respect. Then she turned and asked, politely, "Sir, did you have anyone, I mean, a picture of anyone, to add to the ofrenda? I can find a frame."
"No, no. But if I may?" He held up a small bottle of sake and matching cup. Rosalee hurried to clear a space. He poured a serving into the cup, and placed both gently down. "For those who are no longer with us."
Rosalee was spared the need to find a response by a change in the music. Lucky's band had stopped playing, and he was calling for people to clear the dance floor for a special presentation by the dance team of Alexa and Doug. To Rosalee's surprise, the band was replaced by a single Nopon musician, who spent a quick moment, tuning her instrument. The object that she held in her earwings looked like a combination of recorder and vertical xylophone, with a little touch of washtub, and sounded very much like an accordion, if accordions could be made mostly of glass. But the tune she played was clearly a tango, and one full of emotion.
Rosalee didn't get the best view of the dance itself, sadly. She'd ended up being pushed almost to the entrance by the shifting crowd. From what she could see, Alexa and Doug were presenting just about the most passionate dance possible. Alexa's hands flared, then clapped, then flared again, as she leaned into Doug. Rosalee could hear a variety of sighs, male and female, as the pair strode, stroked, and swept around the dance floor. Maybe someone would have a video she could catch later.
The music ended, and after a bout of cheering, the normal party resumed. Lucky's band played again, now with the added accompaniment of Nopon styling. Rosalee lingered by the door. Looking over the crowd, she tried to spot anyone she had missed. If she hadn't noticed the Secretary's arrival, it was just possible that there was someone else she hadn't seen.
The door was partially open, letting in a little cool air, and she heard the sharp and angry voice of Arya. Rosalee poked her head outside and saw the manager arguing with Frye. "Oh no, you don't. When I said banned, I meant it. You don't get within one meter of this party, you jerk."
"Aw come on, aren't you supposed to welcome everyone tonight?"
"Only if you're dead."
Frye laughed. "Not yet. Let's see about next year."
"You'll still be banned. I've had it with you. Move." She turned away from him and stomped back into the bar without a second glance.
Frye slouched back to his regular corner of the parking lot. Rosalee went over to him. "Sorry about that, Frye. Maybe if you hadn't started three fights in two weeks?"
He shrugged and took a pull from his flask. "I got no cause to whine, especially since she still sells to me. Have you tried Alexa's miracle juice?" When Rosalee nodded, he continued. "It ain't bad, but it's never going to replace vodka."
"Maybe I can convince her to let you in. I can't leave my division out in the cold."
"Don't worry. I can drink just as well out here as in there. But I did bring something." He shuffled around in his back pocket, before pulling out a photo. Wallet-sized, no longer new, showing an older man in military dress uniform. The likeness to Frye was uncanny, if you removed the scars and bleary eyes. "Think you could find a place to tuck this in?"
"It'll get a good place, Frye." She returned to the diner, leaving him swaying with a few other outside regulars.
The party was starting to wind down, even though it was a good two hours before the last guest left. Rosalee assured everyone that she would return their photos, with the frames, in the morning. It wouldn't do to have the altar become picked over as people departed. She stood in front of it, the flowers still glowing, but fainter, the candles mostly burnt out. They all get to stay here safe, she thought, even as the rest of us go forward.
Lucky pulled up next to her. "So, who you frowning about?"
"I'm not frowning. Just tired."
"Nope. You decked yourself out, and no one came."
"Lucky, the place was full. It was great."
"Someone didn't come. Look at you. If you were hotter, I'd put you in a votary."
"It's just skell gear."
"Tight skell gear, black and silver. It suits you. You've got your make-up done fierce and you're wearing Mama's earrings."
"You recognize them?"
"I know more things than you realize, sis, even if I'm make-believe. Sorry you were disappointed."
"Everyone came that I expected and I'm not disappointed."
"What you say, sis, what you say."
Time to switch topics. "Your band did great. How do you know so many tunes?"
"Easy. Each of us knows a few, and we let that person lead. The rest of us just fill in most of the time. Plus I have a cheat book for a lot of easy pop tunes."
"Well, I loved your spin on La Bamba."
"Mama's favorite. I wasn't going to miss that." He grinned down at her, his lean face tired but content. "But I had one more song I wanted to play. Just, never seemed the right time."
The door to the diner opened. Arya yelled from somewhere behind the bar, "Done! We're closed! You missed it all! But I suppose you could get Rosalee to give you a shot of mescal for the road, if any's left." Rosalee looked over to see a familiar blond figure, strangely uncertain in her movements.
"Look, Rosa, I'm going to go … tune my guitar or something." Lucky hurried away. Rosalee didn't move for a moment, then held her head a tad higher and walked towards the late-comer.
"Sorry you didn't make it, Irina. Lieutenant."
"Irina's fine. I should be the one apologizing. Something came up with the Curators and …"
Rosalee's face flickered with anger, but only for a moment, and nothing you would notice in a diner lit mostly by guttering candles. "Gwin brought a picture of your brother. He said I should send it to you afterwards."
"Send it to Gwin. I don't need it."
"Still. Come and take a look." She led Irina over to the altar.
"Wow. You took up the whole wall."
"I wanted to do it right. Our people deserve nothing less."
"So many pictures…"
"And every one of them remembered and loved. Even the Nopon brought something." Rosalee gestured at the alien altar, which seemed to shiver in response. "We aren't forgotten by them."
"I thought we're supposed to remember the dead."
"It works both ways. We still have all their love, even if it is feels far away from us sometimes. Love is a lot closer than you think."
Over in the corner, Lucky was playing his guitar, not just aimless twiddling, but clearly the opening of a song. An original one, slow but meant for dancing. God bless her brand new baby brother, he had her back. Rosalee took a deep breath and looked straight at Irina. "Hey. We ran out of tamales hours ago, but there's still just enough mescal for four people. You, me, Arya, and my brother. But first, how about a dance? You missed the rest of the party. You shouldn't go home without any fun."
"Really? It seems … artificial."
Rosalee secretly agreed. But she'd take what she could get. "My brother is dying to play this song, and if we just stare at him, he might get embarrassed." Rosalee pointedly avoided looking at her brother, who was about to break into laughter at this rank lie. "And if we just stand talking, he'll think we don't like it. So?" She held out her hands. Irina shrugged and took them in her own, then moved awkwardly a little closer. Rosalee laid her arm half over Irina's shoulders as Lucky began to sing.
"What's he saying?"
Rosalee stepped a little nearer. "It's in Spanish."
"I recognize that. But did he just say my name?"
Rosalee laughed softly. "The song's called Reloj de Arena. Hourglass." They swayed together as Lucky strummed and sang.
"What's it about, anyway?"
Rosalee didn't feel like translating, didn't feel like talking. But whispering, that she could do. She waited a moment, then put her lips close to Irina's ear. She didn't even have to tilt her head to do it, they were so close in height. "Corazon, never was a love so beautiful, never has she fit my hands so well, not even my guitar. When I hold you, I know exactly where I am. Mija, I can't respond. Don't ask it of poor me. I feel all that I have lost, measured under your smooth skin. When I hold you, that is exactly where I live. Corazon, when my eyes open, the future will return. But for now, you are all the medicine I seek. When I hold you, this is my home."
The song came to an end, and so did the dance. Irina stepped away promptly and applauded Lucky. Rosalee stood there, blinking, her hands still tingling. Then the three of them, along with Arya (finally done loading the first run of dishwasher), toasted Mira with the last of Alexa's mescal.
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a/n: Bits and pieces of this story have been waiting, some for months, and they all arrived in my head today. At 4 a.m. At least they brought saltat tango and mescal …. And, by gum, if we don't manage Gwin/Irina, I will NOT see her stuck with Sharon, even if I have to write it myself. Eldest Child disagrees, but they can go write their own fanfiction (if you disagree, go baby go, write us something good!)
Here's the text of the Mysteroid riddle/poem (I'm not sure of the order of lines 2-4):
"My kinsman sleep, yet point the way to a treasure great and vast. With it shall this world be destroyed, and then reborn at last.
Our treasure is bane to any wall, able to harm or heal one and all. 193
Our treasure is succor to all of the poor, a flame that incinerates all evermore. 128
Our treasure alone is fit to awaken the way to a world that is long forsaken. 1986
That treasure is love – the light that shines our way, even through the darkest of struggles
I record our love here, that we may never forget it, that we may use it as a beacon to guide us as we wander the vastness of space."
Why am I ever surprised by how much I love this game?
Happy Day of the Dead, or Wednesday.
(Squee, New Leaf, squee.)
The party continued over in Modern Bromance Evolved, and Rosalee has Alexa's back. Bless that girl.