Elsa sits at the bar, mostly alone in the nightclub's dim lighting. Alone except for the big bartender.
"Elsa," Marshmallow grins broadly. "If you're here to dance, you're a little early. You looking for Anna?"
Elsa gives a determined shake of her head. "Anna's in class," she says quietly. "Apparently she's been skipping to spend time with me."
"Mom will be happy about that," Marshmallow winks. "So what can I do for you?" He's louder than Anna but no less boisterous.
Elsa opens her mouth, closes it again, thinks for a moment. "I don't really know how to phrase it," Elsa confesses. "The Lime Dive seems sort of… out there? As in, it revels in making people uncomfortable. How have you stayed open so long?"
Marshmallow grins. "Part of it," he says, "is that we make a big deal about how different we are. People love a scandal and all publicity is good publicity when you're a restaurant or a bar or anything else like that. I mean, not 'such-and-such a restaurant gives people food poisoning,' but pretty much anything else. Part of it is we make great drinks, and part of it is we've got a pretty sweet atmosphere. Why'd you ask? You thinking about Kristoff's Coffee?"
"Yes," Elsa blinks owlishly. "How?"
"How did I know?" The big bartender gives a conspiratorial grin. "I happen to have a very talkative sister who happens to be one of Kristoff's employees."
"Oh," Elsa says. "I didn't know you two talked that often."
"She lives with me," Marshmallow shrugs. "Be hard not to." Elsa hadn't known that.
"So," Elsa prompts. "How do we do that at Kristoff's?"
"Dunno," Marshmallow says cheerily. "I'm sure you'll figure something out. What makes you different from all the other coffee shops around?"
"We make good coffee I guess," Elsa frowns.
"That might get people to stick around once they've come once," Marshmallow replies. "That doesn't get people in the door the first time though. You need something that will get people talking. The more people talk, good or bad, the more people will hear about you guys and remember the name. The more people remember the name, the more they'll stop by to see what's up. You said you make good coffee and you're not the first I've heard that from. Get people in once and they'll keep coming back."
"We aren't unique though," Elsa says helplessly. "I don't know how we could…"
"Then Kristoff's Coffee is going to die," Marshmallow cuts in abruptly. "I think you're wrong though."
"I don't," Elsa scowls. Before she can finish the thought though, Marshmallow jabs her in the sternum with one fat finger. If she could feel a little better, it would probably hurt a good deal…
"You!" Marshmallow says loudly, impatiently, but not unkindly. "You're unique. How many other coffee shops can truthfully claim to have a litch for a barista?" Elsa shrugs and rubs her sternum self consciously. "That's right," Marshmallow nods firmly. "Friggin none. With how much people are talking about the undead in the news, everyone will want to come and see what's up."
"I…" Elsa thinks for a moment. Not Anna's sort of speaking before she knows what she wants to say, but a pensive, wise sort of thought. "I don't know I'm ok with that," she says, voice small. "I'm not going to be a circus freak. I don't want attention. I just want everyone to forget about me and leave me alone."
"That's your choice," Marshmallow tilts his head deferentially. "Speaking of," he seems to hesitate. "Do you mind, I've always been curious. What's it like?"
"What's… being dead like?" Elsa folds in on herself subconsciously. Only a little, but Marshmallow notices.
"Yeah," he leans casually over the bar but there's concern on his face. "I'm sure that's all anyone ever asks," he says. "You don't have to answer if you don't want."
"I don't really," Elsa sighs. "I suppose… I guess it's lonely and cold and… I don't really want to talk about it again. Sorry."
"Sorry?" Marshmallow scoffs. "I shouldn't have asked. It's me who should be sorry." Elsa shrugs noncommittally. "So," Marshmallow grins evilly. "You and Anna dating?"
"Dunno," Elsa drops her head into her arms. "I think so? She… hasn't exactly made a secret of liking me."
"And you clearly like her," Marshmallow hums happily.
"I wish I could get drunk," Elsa grumbles without raising her head.
"What's the holdup?" Marshmallow glances around the bar to make sure there are no empty drinks or needy patrons, and sits carefully. "I mean about you and Anna, I assume the whole not getting drunk thing is undead physiology."
"No hold up I guess," Elsa sighs. "I keep worrying that she'll finally realize what I am and run, but… I suppose she's had plenty of opportunity to."
"Yeah, my sister doesn't do the running away thing," Marshmallow grins. A cell phone rings somewhere in the bar. They ignore it. "She ever tell you about the porcupine she found when we were kids? Decided it would make a great pet…"
"No," Elsa replies.
"Ok," Marshmallow stands abruptly. "There are other bartenders, and it's about my lunch hour."
"I wish I could eat too," Elsa grumbles. The lights flicker.
"No more of that," Marshmallow raps her head- not hard, but firmly enough to make a noise. Elsa raises her head and blinks, so Marshmallow grins. It's a very Anna expression. "Anna always has lunch around now," he says. The grin looks very evil to the little litch. Still an Anna expression though. "What would you say if I told you that I know which dining hall she eats at?"
"I would remind you that I don't eat," Elsa grumbles.
"No," Marshmallow allows, "but I do, and Anna does, and you should join us."
Elsa shakes her head vigorously. "I…" she trails off. "I'm not…"
"Stop holding back," Marshmallow gives a very fatherly frown. "Just don't feel. Don't feel afraid, and if you have to be afraid, conceal it and push through and eventually, you will forget that you're trying not to be afraid and it won't be an act anymore. I know you like my sister, and I know she likes you…"
"I'm not holding back," Elsa snaps. "I told her how I feel, she told me, everything is sunshine and rainbows."
"Well it looks like you're holding back," Marshmallow crosses his arms.
"I'm not," Elsa insists stubbornly, then shrugs and looks down at the counter again. "Doesn't matter," she mumbles. "It's not like she'll put up with me for long anyway."
"You need a therapist," Marshmallow raps her head again. The lights flicker. "Sorry," he says quickly. "But… I'm pulling an Anna I guess, talking before I think. I know your life- or unlife or whatever- has been terrible. I know I can't begin to guess what you've been through, and the closest my own experiences come is this one time I kicked a bedpost really hard and broke my little toe. I know I don't know what you're dealing with, why your self esteem is lower than worm poop. I know that mental health isn't a matter of 'smile and pretend it's not there and it will go away' or anything. But what I do know is that Anna won't shut up about you, and you like her too, and I know that Anna is trying her damndest to be patient and give you your space and all that. If you want anything to come of that, you're going to have to show her that you're ready. Maybe one day she'll leave, maybe not. But I can promise you- and I've known my sister a lot longer than you have- if she ever does leave you, it won't be because she gets scared. It won't be because she suddenly starts judging you for being a litch, or because the lights sometimes flicker when you get upset. It won't be because of ass backwards laws that make me ashamed to call myself a patriot. If she ever leaves you, it will be for normal relationship drama reasons, so it's time to get off the self pity train and decide if you want to give things a try."
"I'm not on a self pity train," Elsa says, but despite her strong words, her voice is weak. "I told her I love her."
"Great," Marshmallow nods. "Now show her. Show up at lunch without warning. That's romantic as shit."
"Romantic," Elsa scowls. "Sure. What if she doesn't want me there? What if she's with her friends, and she doesn't want them to see her with a litch?"
"Do you honestly think Anna knows- or cares- enough about what other people think of her for that to be true?" Marshmallow throws his apron on the counter and moves around it to go. "You coming?"
"Fine," Elsa stands.
The walk isn't long- the nightclub is built near the university for obvious reasons. It goes quickly- in part, because there are no protestors making problems today. The university's architecture is a mad jumble of styles; that dormitory is all glass and concrete and modern, that lecture hall is red brick and white columns. The dining hall is somewhere in between. Ugly concrete pillars, a boringly flat roof, brick walls, a double glass door with a bit of cardboard box taped over where some inebriated patron put his foot through.
The dining hall is loud. Dozens of little cliques compete to hear themselves, but whatever long-outdated philosophy they think they've discovered for the first time, and whatever amature poetry they imagine to be movingly unique, it all blends together into a sort of startling hubbub. Elsa hesitates at the door, but Marshmallow's hand on her back offers the kind of gentle encouragement that says it's easier to go in than to try to resist. She bites her lip but complies with the firm suggestions of the large hand.
A waitress looks up from her phone and stops them at her podium as they enter, the signage placed in such a way as to funnel customers past her. Marshmallow produces a card, hands it over.
"One," he says. "She's not eating." Elsa doesn't make eye contact.
"We don't allow anyone in without paying," the waitress takes his card. "Too many people who 'aren't eating' end up with full plates."
"It's fine," Elsa produces a crumpled wad of cash, doesn't count it, and thrusts it quickly at the waitress.
"She doesn't eat," Marshmallow says firmly. He gently presses down on Elsa's arm and she lets it fall without paying. Marshmallow leans over the podium- he can be quite tall when he chooses, Elsa observes internally. "She's dead," he says in a stage whisper. If Elsa could blush, she would be the color of Anna's hair.
"I…" the waitress frowns. "Ew," she says, but it doesn't sound intentional so Elsa tries not to let it sting. "Whatever, go on," the waitress relents after a moment. She returns the card, and Marshmallow steers Elsa towards the far corner.
Anna looks up from an animated argument as they approach her table, "and I'm telling you that you're a choad that only thinks with his… Hi Elsa," Anna grins broadly, stands. "Marshmallow," She scowls and looks between the two. "Did you… Elsa, you ok?"
Elsa nods firmly, but glances around uneasily.
"Awesome," Anna grins. "Awesome," she says again and delivers the lightest ghosting of a hug. Elsa tries very hard not to freeze, but Anna pulls away quickly so Elsa isn't sure how successful she was. "Marsh' you're a stinker," Anna scowls, punches his shoulder. She has to stand on her toes and stretch in order to reach. "C'mon Elsa, there's a open seat beside mine."
"It's open because it's the splash zone," Rapunzel says, and gives a small wave. Eugene is beside her, and two others that Elsa doesn't recognize.
"Splash zone?" Elsa sits carefully. Anna drops beside her and drapes one arm casually around Elsa's boney shoulders. The suave unconcern is undermined somewhat by the probing glance she shoots at Elsa to make sure it's all right…
"Anna likes soup," Eugene grins cockily, and mirrors Anna's action with her cousin. Rapunzel shrugs him off easily. "Anna also likes to gesture wildly when she gets excited."
"Which is all the time," Rapunzel supplies.
A chair creaks as Marshmallow sits. "And when she gestures," Marshmallow grins evilly and rubs his shoulder, "and when she has soup, that soup tends to… splash."
"That was once!" Anna brandishes her spoon threateningly at her brother. The comfortable weight on Elsa's shoulders starts to lessen, Anna is shifting to release her, a concealed concern on the redhead's freckled face.
"It's fine," Elsa says quickly, but she isn't sure if she's speaking of the so-called splash zone, or Anna's comfortingly possessive arm. She leans into the half-embrace and rests her head on Anna's shoulder to make sure Anna knows it's ok…
"This is Sven," Anna says after a beat and points to the shaggier of the two strangers with her spoon. "He's a right stinker. That's Olaf. He means well, but he's not very smart."
"I'm smart enough to stay out of your splash zone," he grins playfully. He's short for a college age boy, his hair is the color of newly fallen snow- Elsa wonders if his family is from anywhere she might know.
"I still say it's not discrimination not to be attracted to dead people," Sven rumbles. His hair is black like coal, only a few shades darker than his skin. "I don't have a problem with them, I think they should have the same rights as everyone else, and I think these new laws are wrong, I just can't get excited about sleeping with someone who's… can you imagine, the cold, nasty skin? Like sleeping with a fish…"
"I can imagine, actually," Anna glances at Elsa, flushes brilliantly, and glances away. "You're still a choad."
"Am not," he frowns. Anna sticks her tongue out at him.
"I…" Rapunzel frowns, glances at Elsa. "I don't think it's wrong not to be attracted to someone?"
Eugene nods enthusiastically. "I'm not attracted to fat people. That doesn't mean I have a problem with them, I have fat parents and they're great people, I just don't want a fat wife."
"You're a pig," Rapunzel swats him half-playfully.
"All bodies are beautiful," Olaf's face is screwed up in what looks like concentration. "Eugene is fat shaming."
"Let's change the topic," Marshmallow glances at Elsa. She forces a smile to show him it's alright. "Really," he says. "Topic change. Now."
"It's fine," Elsa says quietly.
"It's…" Sven frowns. "Oh my god," he says. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know…"
"Didn't know what?" Olaf asks.
"Elsa's a litch," Anna smiles proudly, and gives Elsa's shoulder a gentle squeeze.
"You think she maybe didn't want everyone to know that?" Marshmallow frowns sternly.
"It's fine," Elsa says again. "I'd rather people know now than feel tricked when they find out later."
"I'm so sorry," Sven interjects. "I didn't mean… god, you must think I'm such a prick…" Elsa shrugs noncommittally. He goes on. "I don't think you're ugly. You're really… no one would ever know just by looking…"
"Thanks," Elsa frowns.
"Like, if you were in a…" Sven trails off. "I'm sorry," he says again.
"Sven, hand the shovel to someone else," Rapunzel says, "you've dug your hole deep enough."
"Just throwing it out there," Eugene says cheerily, "I never said anything about the undead… if you two ever need anyone to…"
"Finish that thought and I castrate you," Rapunzel interrupts.
"You can't help what you're attracted to," Elsa says, voice small. "I don't mind… I don't really like that I'm always so cold either. It matters to me that you think I deserve to be treated the same as a person." She can just barely hear sirens in the distance.
"But you are a person," Sven gives a confused frown. If he was going to say anything else though, Elsa doesn't get to hear it- they are interrupted by a man running into the dining hall. His hair looks dark and matted, blood stains his temple and cheek.
Elsa reaches out with the magic- just a cut in his scalp. Head wounds bleed profusely, but this one isn't life threatening so Elsa lets the magic go. There's a lot of power in the air though, much more than she would expect. Turbulent too, all eddies and swirls, like there are spells just out of sight stirring it up, but Elsa hasn't cast anything today…
"Skeletons!" The bloodied man cries out. "Coming from the morgue!"
There are spells stirring up the magic. The Invocation of Nehek, or a bastardized attempt at it at least. Anna seems to put it together at about the same time as Elsa; "Professor Gottle," she breathes. "Oh god, I should never have had her translate your book…"
AN: One million thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter! There were many reviews, and my life is super bleh right now... I read every review and fully intended to reply, and then didn't... My apologies. Please don't let that stop you from reviewing... Love me sempai...