#| well drabble but uhhh idc! it's late!

[crop-bound]

🌸

                    They’re leaving; a flood of designers, models, photographers, and their loved ones begin the drunk and noisy descent from the pedestals their host had so graciously provided to the still busy streets of Zuzu. Two AM approaches as the celebration lays its head to rest, yet its hostess stands stark as she grasps every hand offered firmly, nodding to affirm and express gratitude to her guests as if she truly cared about their presence within her home. The evening had drained her of the energy she had for the show, but she makes sure not to show any sense of humanity in her visage as she stares down each and every guest with a golden gaze that could challenge any god. 

          It softens though, the stone that woman casts across her features, as she thanks the last guest — a man who she’s worked with closely. He leans in and she has to crouch to meet his height, his hand shielding his lips and her ear from a bottle green stare that dips in and out of focus as a wine glass half full catches its attention. He thanks his host, hand dropping to meet both of hers and hold them tightly, just as she did to the rest of the party, smiles, and takes his leave with a tipsy sort of grace as a glossy black coat is tossed over his shoulder. Silver hair falls into her face, and she leaves it there. There are no more guests to impress, no persona to uphold before an audience — just her, her brother, and one straggler. 

        Straggler is a rude way to put it she tells herself, shoulders dropping to rid herself of any statuesque tension. She offered to let her stay, just for the night, but she doubts that the other will allow herself to stay for the whole duration. The wine glass had been emptied during their exchange, one of many that were brought to the young woman’s lips as she drank in silence. Ranit — reaching with one hand to undo the braided bun that held an ocean of hair above her head, and the other taking a bottle of red wine from a glass table — makes herself known to the other just by clearing her throat. It seems to ring throughout the room — she always had a strange way with noise, gaining anyone’s attention with an alarming yet composed amount of volume. It works, it always does, and Ranit can’t help but to crack the smallest of smile into the marble that was her visage as the other jumps, juggling her empty glass between two startled and drunken hands as soft curses escaped once glossed lips. 

Ranit raises the bottle as she approaches the startled woman, wiggling it slightly to show that there was still liquid in it, ❝There’s always more, Chérie — help yourself.❞        Now, Chérie was a sacred name only kept between three people  — anyone else who replaced Cherry’s name with this affectionate term would be turned down immediately by one of the three. It happened earlier in the evening in fact; an older woman overheard an exchange between Cherry and Ranit’s brother, thought the nickname cute and elegant, and tried it out herself on the younger one. ❝That’s not for you to use,❞ His tone was like if honey could turn; so sweet and sickening yet bitter,  ❝Find another chérie, madame.❞ He had coined the name for Cherry, and though it lacked originality and dripped of appropriation, the three hadn’t cared. She was their Chérie, and they were the only ones who could call her that.         She wasn’t hesitant with the bottle, gaze drifting up towards Ranit as she sheepishly pries the cork out with the tips of her fingers.  ❝...Thank you — ❞ ❝Do you need anything? A maid has laid out a lounge robe for you  — it’s one of mine, so it shouldn’t reek of...❞ The corner of Ranit’s mouth twists  — Cherry could’ve sworn it had, but between the drunken blur and Ranit’s general demeanor, it was impossible to tell. Still, the taller woman sighed, she could hear it  — pointed like an arrow out the open balcony door to an even taller figure, though he was hunched over the railing. He flinched; he, unlike his sister, lacked such intense emotional and physical discipline, and he unlike his sister dared to smile as he looked over his shoulder at the other two. ❝Reek of what, darling? Of grandeur? Of — ❞ ❝Of nicotine,❞ Another arrow from her spitting tone, Cherry is the one to finch as it narrowly misses her and lands between Donn’s shoulders. He brushes it off with a smooth chuckle; attacks following the first are never as strong, and Ranit collects herself with a deep inhale, hawk-like stare shooting itself back at Cherry, who finches again. She can’t help it. Though the model was younger than Cherry by four years, she stood 6 inches taller and carried herself with the disposition of royalty  — and her voice always commanded respect.          Donn was different; he didn’t command respect, never had. Respect was never involved with Donn, he was too confident and self-involved for it. He was open to poking fun at his sister, to being a man who knows full well what he was doing as he poked an already provoked bear and speak down to it with a tone so rich with honey it made one sick. Cherry’s gaze follows Ranit’s, like green grass reaching for the sun, and her lips tighten as it falls on Donn.        It’s brief, Ranit interrupts the other’s train of thought with another sharp inhale that’s contrasted by the softest: ❝Well, Chérie, I’ll be retiring for the night,❞ And she turns towards a spiraling marble staircase, heels that only empathized her height clicking with each step,  ❝If you need anything, please let me know.❞ It’s almost dreamy the way the model speaks, and Cherry raises the bottle of wine as a sign of thanks as she smiles, ❝Goodnight, dear — ❞ She’s interrupted by her own stagger, the gentle laughter of her friend washing over her.        The bottle is cold, it feels nice against her lips as she takes a swig of chilled wine. It’s her favorite; much to expensive for her to be drinking like this, but it brings her peace in this moment as she finds herself drifting towards the balcony as well. Cold air, cold wine, her mind is filled with thoughts of chill and ice and blue and — Joja. It brings a sour taste to her mouth - or is it the smoke that assaults her senses once she reaches the railing where Donn stands? ❝Don’t stand downwind,❞ There’s still that sweetness to his tone, but it’s curt, a cigarette almost burnt out is held gingerly between his teeth as he takes Cherry by the shoulder and shuffles her to the other side. She collides with his arm — far too short to meet his shoulder — and he laughs at her, ❝Unless you miss your execs breathing it in your face.❞ He’s met with silence as Cherry frowns at him before taking another large drink from the bottle, not breaking eye contact with the spindly man. He laughs again, taking the tab from his lips and breathing out the smoke. She’s halfway done with what remain of the wine before daring to speak to him again. ❝Did Ranit tell you...?❞ ❝Nah, Dave did,❞         A moment of silence washes over them; Donn takes a deep drag of his cigarette, now almost completely done with it, and pries his silver stare away from Cherry.  ❝Tell me about it. What happened, your plans,❞ He tries to remove any sense of empathy from his voice, but the honey that dripped from his tone was gentle, catching the teary eyed Cherry’s own gaze, ❝You never liked that job anyway.❞ ❝...W-was it that obvious?❞ ❝Painfully so. What finally broke your back, camel?❞      Another wave of silence, but she’s relaxed significantly now. He knew of her struggle — the years of strife and suffering she endured to each her position, never directly from her, and yet... She threw it all away.  She shuffles from one foot to the other, adjusting her balance while still holding tightly to the bottle, gaze dropping to the remaining wine, now warm, ❝...There was a mining incident. They refused my proposal, I’m tired of working for corporate.❞ ❝I thought corporate was your goal — ❞ ❝It was,❞ Almost too quick to retort, Cherry presses her forehead against the balcony railing and groans, causing a tight chuckle to escape Donn, ❝It was but... I don’t — I don’t know anymore,❞ She’s leaning into the railing a little too deeply; he’s half tempted to take her by the straps of her dress and pull her back, but instead decides to pat her shoulder instead, just enough to wake her up,  ❝I found a letter in my desk. I don’t know. I don’t know what to do with it.❞ ❝I’m sure you’ll figure it out.❞ ❝I mean, of course I can. I already have. I could leave tonight to the middle of nowhere, rebuild a farm, escape the city...❞ She sighs as if it weren’t achievable, and this ignites something in the pit of Donn’s stomach. He moves to quickly for her to register; a swift flick of his wrist as he hovers over her hand results in the hot ash of his cigarette to burn themselves into freckled flesh. It was an angry and impulsive action, and he takes a long stride back as Cherry drops the bottle over the balcony and cries in pain. He speaks before she can,  ❝You already know what you want. You’d be an idiot to not act.❞ ❝You didn’t have to burn me!❞ She’s half crying and laughing in shock, stare flitting from over the balcony to Donn,  ❝I dropped the wine! I can’t just leave everything — there’s pedestrians down there, Donn!❞   ❝They’ll move,❞ Curt in the way he spoke, Donn drops the crumpled cigarette over the edge of the balcony before pressing his hands together, pointing at Cherry, ❝Chérie, if you don’t act now. You never will. The chérie I know has enough sense to know a good opportunity when she sees one. You knew it was time to leave that shit hole when you quit, you know you have an opportunity,❞ He extends his reach and pulls Cherry by her shoulders once more, holding tightly,  ❝The Cherry Hayden I know is no fool; if I had your instinct and that letter, I would leave this all behind.❞ ❝You would?❞ ❝No. My hands are too soft for farm work. That’s not the point,❞ The exasperation in his tone is tangible as he presses his forehead against her’s, ❝Cherry, if I were to start anew...❞ He doesn’t have to finish his sentence; she’s already taking a step back, hands brushing against his, done with the conversation. She’s at her full height now, brows furrowed with an understanding of what he had yet to say; the sudden intimacy already says volumes.           There’s a tightness in her throat that she can’t get rid of; Donn returns to his smoking spot right in the middle of the balcony railing and pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, nearly empty, retrieving one as he stares Cherry down.  ❝...You didn’t have to burn me.❞ ❝I know, but I wanted to,❞ He finally turns away, taking a lighter from his suit pocket and flicking it twice before lighting the cigarette between his teeth, ❝Go to bed, I’ll call your cab in the morning.❞