#Beth Birthday Ever|2022

[mackmp3]

Aotearoa Music Month

It's almost the end of NZ Music Month, here are my personal favourite Aotearoa artists and a few song recommendations :)

(If you listen to one song from the list make it Old Peel)

Aldous Harding. Words cannot explain the sheer bonkersness of Aldous Harding. One of her earliest songs shares the name but seemingly little else with Titus Groan, the gothic-fantasy novel by Mervyn Peake, and the music video for 'Lawn' features her in a prosthetic lizard tail. Performing live, she often stares straight ahead as though she is not quite sure why you're all looking at her. Her songs, sometimes joyous (The Barrel, Fever, Lawn), and sometimes yearning (Pilot, Party) sometimes just bored (Ennui), are all unmistakably her. Her last few albums have been produced by PJ Harvey collaborator John Parish, and her band includes multi-instrumentalist H. Hawkline (Cate Le Bon collaborator). 2022's Warm Chris was my favourite album of the year, I listened to it almost everyday for two months, the standout line (from 'Fever' being 'the weather/opened up like a birthday card' which is just beautiful. Her best song, though, I think is 'Old Peel', a 2021 single in which the percussion is Harding banging on a coffee mug with a stick. And she does this live as well.

2. The Beths. The Beths are one of those wonderful indie bands whose music all sounds so cheerful but the songs are all about the crushing weight of your insecurities. They've released 3 studios albums and an EP, but I reckon their debut, Future Me Hates Me, is their best one - standout tracks are the title track, 'Happy Unhappy' and 'Uptown Girl'. Their sounds is a mix of contemporary indie pop (lots of chirpy backup vocals) and classic indie rock dirt, especially on 'Future Me Hates Me', though their new stuff is pretty heavy live. They also use a lot of the old NZ made amps and gear that was made here in the 60s and 70s when it was too expensive to import stuff( ask any adult who was in a band here when they were younger and they'll probably have one). 'I Want to Listen' from last years' 'Expert In A Dying Field' is really lovely, if you aren't in the mood for songs about not knowing if you're lovable cos they've got a fair few of those.

3. Voom. Voom are probably on the lesser known side, but their 2006 album 'Hello, Are You There' is right up there with Grandaddy and Built to Spill. It's one of those albums with like 17 songs but some of them are less than a minute long. Beautiful indie rock, full of classic stuff like 'Jimmy's Got A Boner' 'My Friend Satan' and 'I'm Leaving Forever'. The best song on the album is 'B Your Boy', which I could listen to for a very long time, and we're going to cover it in my band and I'm so excited. It's just a perfect song.

Those are my top three (at the moment) honourable mentions are -

Reb Fountain - I saw her live. It was scary. I loved it.

Marlon Williams - last year he invented a genre, Māori disco pop, wrote the most danceable song of the year (My Boy), and played bongos on 'Come To Me' (Björk cover) live.

Vera Ellen - Some nice pissed off indie rock. 'I Want 2 B Boy' is very cool.

Pickle Darling - very vibey bedroom pop, lots of delightful little tunes. Also they work at a record store in my hometown and is always really friendly when I'm in there :)

Tiny Ruins - I'm not the most familiar with their stuff but one of my friends tells me to listen to them all the time so they must be good. Indie folk.

The Clean - Dunedin sound band, not super familiar with them but they have a song called 'Point That Thing Somewhere Else' which sounds like Sonic Youth but somehow even cooler.

Dimmer - 'I Believe You Are A Star' sort of like Portishead, by ex-Straightjacket Fits musician Shanye Carter. loudest show I've ever been to.

This one song called 'Gaskrankinstation' by the Headless Chickens, it's hella dark but pretty damn cool. post-punk.

Special Mention to Flying Nun Records, the actual coolest record label.

[brooklynislandgirl]

Time means something very different to Groot than to most animals in the universe. Plants simply don’t experience it the same way. When he considers the meaning of time, he has difficulty perceiving weeks, months, and years as anything more than a construct created by mammals, for mammals. For him and his ilk, time is more of a binary concept: Light and Dark. During Light, those are the moments to live in celebration of life as a phenomenon unto itself. A miracle. During Dark, that is when rest is proper. Conservation of energy, so that when it comes time to celebrate again, there will be rejuvenation readily available.

This is how Groot perceives time, and he’s had very little reason to change it throughout his existence. Were he on his own, he might give nary a thought to how others perceive it… but in his exile from his people and his world, he has surrounded himself with those who are far more preoccupied by the passage of time than he. People who perceive it as such a threat to their existence, it must be monitored down to the most infinitesimal degree. (What exactly is a “nanosecond”? Nothing any living creature can perceive, surely.)

Beth is not one of those people. In fact, if she were surrounded by bark, he would easily mistaken her for one of his kin. She seems to understand that the passage of time is not a thing to be feared… not even really a thing to be noticed if one wishes to avoid despair. Rather, it is a thing to be ignored altogether, in favor of living from one moment to the next. From Light to Dark, and back again to Light. These last months, they have enthused together in the Light of many worlds, peering flame-kissed horizons above trees and valleys and crag-laden wastelands and ice floes… and always with an arm around one another.

I am Groot, they say aloud.  But what is truly said, that is music played only for each other, even in the most crowded auditorium.

But for all his ruminations on the perception of time and how it melts away in the presence of this enigma of a being… a creature that is animal, vegetable, and mineral at her slightest whim… he knows that on the occasion of this Light, there is something different. Something important, of which she does not speak, in any language available to her. It bids her tongue to stillness, draws her eyes more steadily to the horizon, and then to the sky above. He senses a wistfulness within her. Not misery, precisely… perhaps it is more accurate to say he perceives her in a moment of quiet resignation.

And then he recalls what she had asked him, several Darks previous. About the life cycle of his kin. If they grow the same as trees on Earth or Xandar or Hala, or so many others. If they are ‘born’ sentient, or if they gradually grow into it. It had been a topic of some interest to her, and he had indulged without asking why, as he so often does.

She had asked him more questions the next Dark. And he had indulged her then, too. The subject of birth, or sprouting as an analogue, had been the topic. He’d shared with her how he’d been raised from a minute sprig with tenderness and loving care – and also the occasional whack to the head when he tried to eat inedible things. How he hadn’t known at all what he was doing, barely even the words he was speaking sometimes… but he can remember all of it, every moment of struggling to accept the world around himself and his role in it.

The vibration within her breath now, and the slight shine in her eyes, and the contemplative stare at the sunrise… it tells Groot that there is something deeply important at work here. And he suspects now what it must be.

The next time he sees her flip her wrist over to monitor her timekeeping device, he lifts his hand up and breathes bloom into it. A vine tendril with a pod of blue climbs from the tip of his finger, and before her, the pod bursts open to reveal a flower with all the shimmering splendor of a summer sky. He offers it to her.

“I… am Groot.”

<Elikapeka… for without you, this life would be far more difficult to bear.>>

~*~

Time.

The magic that all men know, the one thing science and magick both agree that flows in variance with the observer, that it is hardly the constant that it initially appears as. Esoteric doctrines claim it is an illusion. But it is like the sea, with eddies, currents. Branching paths far more manifold and mutable than anyone could ever guess. Those who study it agree that the world is full of unexpected whorls and vortices of temporal disturbance. It contracts around some places, dilates at others, though the regimentation of scientific time means that such phenomena are not as common as they once were. In unusual circumstances, time may loop back on itself, makes jumps and rifts to the past or future, or diverge in multiple streams.

On one hand, Beth knows it to be a theme revered during Beltane. She knows it symbolises the Eternal Moment, in which life is conceived and new seeds are sown. But Beth cannot perceive it to any extraordinary degree; she knows it makes up a portion of reality, yet she can only perceive it as sleepers do; through the waxing and waning of the celestial bodies, periods of Light and Dark compartmentalised as years, days, hours, seconds. Recorded in calendars and rituals, accepted across all humans in some sort of global conspiracy.

On another, she knows it as ke kilona, the Chant of Signs. The mystical chant of the gods, and therefore has to have a rhythm and a rhyme. She cannot hear it, though she sees its echoes. Her hanai-sister uses it both as a weapon and a balm. She knows that she lives within the song but only partially. Beth will forever be hapa, an in-betweener. Neither wholly human nor Rokea. An empowered person who is not an alien, a mutant, nor truly a sorcerer, but all of them to some degree.

The only thing Beth knows for certain is that she will live for longer than she might ever wish, baring accident or injury or loss of all hope. Living in the moment, drifting from one echo of life to the next, is the only way to stave off existential ennui. To not drown in preemptive despair which could come so easy if she allowed it.

She is thirty-three today, if she can prescribe diurnal motivations to the wide sea of stars above and around them. She knows depending on the light, the circumstance she can appear older or younger but that Time has not caressed her with a heavy hand in over a decade. She doesn't feel different. And perhaps the thing she has taken away from all these long months with her dearest companion is that it doesn't really matter much, either. That pondering the nature of a single solar year will give her no more insight into the course of her existence. That it is no more important than eating a malasada and cup of coffee on a favourite rock on the beach on any other given day.

So she doesn't understand why at this very moment, exactly twelve hours before she'd taken her first breath on earth those three decades before, should hold such a weight to them. What makes this sunrise just a little more vivid. Why there is an ache in her heart that she cannot express.

Or why she keeps checking her watch.

It contains no fragment of the Tapestry, her own or anyone else's. Although maybe, subconsciously, it reminds her that even she is not wholly immune to the weaving of Clotho, the measure of Lachesis who she believes is biased, or the sharply amoral snipping of Atropos.

His breath breaks her introspection and reminds her that the moment is passing by and she shakes herself of her reverie before glancing toward him.

She watches as the single seedling stalk grows from the whorls of his bark, awash with a sense of wonder that he can do so. This is the truest magick, the oldest ever known. Creation. Life. It is a small if intricate thing. A beautiful bloom born of his desire and affection, a token of himself being gifted to her. It is beautiful in a way she cannot put it to words.

She takes it with all the reverence and gratitude as he has ever shown her. At the same time she wraps his voice around her, the warmth of his tone, the depth of it. She takes hold of his wrist with a certain kind of delicacy and turns it over. She brushes her lips against what would be his knuckles, a kiss that encompasses her enamourment as well as her innate sense of tenderness. She doesn't know if it feels the same to him as it does her.

"Mahalo, Lehua." Two simple words. Yet each of them carry a hundred thousand meanings, conveying more than simple pleasure and appreciation, though that is part of it. She breathes on the bloom, enchanting it with her desire for it to remain alive despite lack of roots, despite it having been plucked from him. Once the spell is cast, she weaves its stem through her dark braid before settling in at his side, an arm around his waist.

[brooklynislandgirl]

~*~ She could smell them almost the instant Andy appeared in her bedroom doorway with the distinctive box. They aren't exactly Leonard's but what they are is an entire half-dozen fresh malasadas. Breathing deeply, Beth could even tell that they are lilikoi filled. There's something earthy, sweet, and floral all at once that even pastry cream can't quite filter out. She pushes back her covers and half imagines herself rising from bed like those in one of those old cartoons, drifting along the air currents of warm, mouth-watering scented bliss, eyes closed in a trance. What Andy sees though is her running over on the tips of her toes, absolutely enthralled by the box. She makes what he might call 'gimme-gimme' fingers and she's just about to lean up and kiss his cheek when he shakes his head. "Don't thank me, your Sasquatch sent them. I don't know how, fucker's on a boat in the middle of not-on-my-watch." Beth blinks. And again, more slowly. "Wha?" But does the question stop her from grabbing one and shoving the entire thing into her mouth, so her cheeks are puffed out like a chipmonk's? No, no it doesn't. "He sent me some shit for you so that it would get to you on time, but this is blowing my mind. I didn't know anyone around here even made this shit. Liliha's the best though." "Bite me, Leonards." Or at least that's what it would have been if her mouth wasn't stuffed with malasada. They grudge glare at one another before at the same time they both agree in unison. "Kamehameha Bakery." Then her eyes narrow again."You said...sent you da kine?" "I'm not supposed to let you have it until he calls." They both know for him to be able to send a call home, he's moved heaven and earth, and probably owes a few favours. It goes unspoken that his rank probably helped.Beth knew going into this whole thing that life would be hard. That she and Luka would not always get to be together to celebrate milestones and anniversaries, that they would go up to a year at a time absent of one another. It is a hard life and takes its toll, which is why it's called service and duty, and why so many relationships end so quickly. Why the one left at home so often seeks comfort and support in someone else, though the service person isn't always spotless in that regard. She knows Andy and Luka are different, but she is too. Having been raised in the life and having so many responsibilities on her own narrow shoulders, she often doesn't have time to miss him in the moment, and it isn't til the end of the day that it hits her how long he's been gone, or how far away and dangerous his life is. "Yeah, okay." So they spend the rest of her birthday doing sibling things, and while walking through Central Park, Andy snaps a couple pictures that are in keeping with the rules of just what Luka is allowed to receive, none of them in any way risque. But the entire time, she's distracted. The anxiety of waiting only mounting as time got closer and closer. Eventually, she's settled at the dining table, laptop set up and ready to go. And while there's skips, delays, freezes, it is when he smiles and wishes her happy birthday that Andy enacts the other part of the plan. He brings her the dessert that was promised, a little snail of vanilla custard ice cream, white chocolate, raspberries, a caramelised brown sugar branch. She blows out the candle for Luka, and they both know what her wish is, even if it isn't spoken aloud. She opens the gift, and immediately puts on the jewelry which sparkles against her tawny skin, purple and sea blues. Luka makes her promise to further still wait until later to read the letter. She agrees, if reluctantly.The rest of the next few minutes are spent making promises and talking soft, inconsequential things. But just before he's cut off, she asks... "How even did'ja sen me malasadas?" He smiles. "Jayden's a roc-" The screen goes blank.

[brooklynislandgirl]

[ Text to Apples ]    I thought ya might like a weekend outta the city. Pick ya up after work? ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Beth is in the middle of her PACE review, when the text comes in. "Mrs Maldonado, age 81, described feeling a 'sharp pain' over her heart, does not radiate-" Out there where the moon hits the water "And rated an 8/10. Pain began about thirty minutes ago and-" Out there where your lips hit mine I don't know where we are Cause somebody stole the street signs I'ma take my sweet time She juggles her clipboard to retrieve her phone and hits mute. "Thinks she is having a heart attack, though she reported no history of heart disease or hypertension. Doctor Clark is signing off on..." And so it goes for nine more patients, and she doesn't seem to even remember it being her birthday, or even that she'd gotten the text by the time she gets to her locker. Finds the birthday balloon bouquet that her coworkers pitched into give her. As she's applying fresh deodorant before putting on civilian clothes, Pam glances over. "So, Cutie Mechanic got something special planned for your week off?" "I...ah...oh, oh man." She digs her phone out again and reads the text. She glances at the other nurse, and smiles. "Yeah, I...I guess he does." "When are you gonna make it official?" Beth blinks. "Because I don't think you can say you're just friends if he wants to take you away for the weekend." Beth's smile has a few too many teeth. "That's because you've never been friends with a man a day in your life." There's a little more banter before she's allowed to text back. {Text: Nakia} That sounds wonderful. Meet you out front. And she means it. What she also knows is maybe, just maybe they do need to have a talk, likely on the ride up to wherever he's got planned. She finishes dressing and grabs both her bag and her balloons. She should have known the time she's running late is the one time Baz Barton shows up on time. His orange pick-up stands out amongst the employee parking ~he gets to take a spot because she always takes the subway~ and it makes her smile. She settles against him in a hug, already starting to apologise for being late when he reaches up to tug on a lock of her hair. "Hey-hey Apps? Yeah, hi." She stands tip-toe and kisses his cheek. "Hi."

[brooklynislandgirl]

Dearest Beth,

A thousand apologies for the tardiness of this missive. I am not sure how much you will have been told about my brief absence, nor how much is proper to reveal, suffice to say that I was obliged to vacate the Tower temporarily to attend some business requiring my particular skillset.

You will find enclosed a small token of my appreciation to celebrate your day. I can only hope that you will find some use for, or else some pleasure in its form and function. I have taken pains to clean each piece before reassembly, but I cannot claim it to be my own work, except for the battery which I have replaced with a magical equivalent.

I hope your birthday was enjoyable, and that now I am returned you will do me the honour of your company soon.

I remain, evermore,

Loki

~*~

The truth is not an easy thing to endorse when the facts bear out that she was told virtually nothing. She should have known that something had happened when even Sam had tersely refused to speak of Loki. The whereabouts, the scope of the absence, or really anything at all. He'd told her it was Need to Know, and she wasn't part of the circle. But that didn't mean all of it sat well on her mind. She tried to accept the situation as best she could but as hours became days, the more the teeth of worry gnawed at her softest places.

It wasn't long after that fear became something quite foreign to her; it became anger and in turn that anger began to sharpen itself toward violence. Could she single-handedly storm the building for the answers she wants? Not likely. Would she be willing to try? Absolutely.

Stark and his cohort likely will never know the debt they owe Loki. She might not have succeeded in an attempt to raze the tower, but she would have made gloriously grim and bloody the retribution. But then the box arrives. And contained within is parchment with writing she is achingly familiar with. Instantly the gloom lifts and her heart leaps into her chest.

Stupid as it might seem, unbefitting her supposed age and austerity, she presses the paper to her cheek and imagines she can feel Loki through the words. The gift itself is wonderful; delightfully whimsical and yet there is a practicality to it that strikes her as intriguing.

Time is a commodity. It is a critical element in healthcare more than anyone can guess. Nurses often wear their watch on their not-dominant hand, with the face peering out from the inner wrist in opposition of how the rest of the world tends to wear them.

The pin portion is lovely, the scrollwork artistically beautiful. It takes her a moment to realise that the numbers themselves are up-side down. Meaning if worn on a lapel or lower along the sternum, she'd need only glance down or lift it up slightly to read it with very little effort. Loki's hopes are guaranteed. She does find pleasure and moreso meaning in the effort and thought of the gift.

She's also stricken that with his circumstance, he would even spend a moment to think of her. That brings a prickle of tears to her eyes.

Less than a day later her knock announces her arrival though she doesn't exactly wait for permission before she lets herself in. She is dressed in a simple black sheath dress. The only ornamentation that can be seen is the watch resting above where her heart resides within, and the opal moon ring she is never without. Beth hardly takes a moment to set down her bag. Inside is a bottle of wine, a small cake big enough for two.

Each step across the chamber picks up speed until she all but launches herself at Loki, arms coming to wind themselves about him. Every sense is straining to ascertain whether he is as healthful as can be, to make certain he is no worse for wear, to take in as much of him as she can. It is an embrace of reassurance, of unconditional love, of joy as much as it of gratitude.

"Mahalo, hoaloha." There’s more to that than Loki might know.

[brooklynislandgirl]

Waiting had never really been Eddie’s forte, and less so that of his Other. Nevertheless, it always seemed to be the way of things, that a special day would translate into a longer work day than normal. A need to check in at the clinic she privately funds. Resolving a restocking snafu at the new F.E.A.S.T. Center chapter in San Francisco.

There’s always something.

But, as his Other has spent the day reminding him, it’s provided Eddie with all manner of opportunity to indulge his perfectionism. To get every little detail right on the money. Not that there are many details… and that’s fine, because that means there are fewer to screw up. Why alexandrite instead of pearl? Pearl would have looked nice. But maybe out of place. Pearl and aquamarine? Would have made for a nice sea motif… or it could’ve been a shark-themed necklace, or…

No, no. This is not the perfectionism he’d had in mind to sate. These are just intrusive thoughts, now. And they’re not even his Other’s. They’re all his. Because he wants to get it right.

We are with her, Eddie. As long as this is true… We cannot get it wrong.

So says you, buddy.

And when at last she walks through the townhouse door, looking very much like a woman who could use a calm evening and maybe a scented bath and a massage… he approaches with perhaps the most awkward grin in his personal history of awkward grins.

“Hey, babe. Happy birthday.” He presses the gentlest of kisses to Beth’s forehead, then turns and gestures to the table, where the card – why in God’s name had he chosen a cartoonish card that depicts him and Spider-Man in the goofiest face-off ever? – and the meticulously wrapped jewelry box are placed, in front of a most decadent-looking chocolate cake, from one of Beth’s favorite shops… one of the first to which she’d ever introduced Eddie. And one he’s gone to ever since. A confection from a common connection.

Brother from another mother. His Other snickers beneath his skin.

“I figure you prob'ly been havin’ a long day… but I wanted to make somethin’ special outta what time we got tonight. If that’s all right.” ~*~

If she's honest, Beth had actually forgotten what day it was. She'd been up and showered and running out the door before he'd woken up. She did stop, go back, not even reaching the end of the drive before backing the car up so her nose isn't in the street, turning the engine off and trekking back up to the door. In those precious few minutes, he'd gotten up and was pouring himself a cup of coffee. She brushed a kiss across his cheek and jaw as he murmured "Mornin' babe."

She scooped up her work bag and was out the door again.

She's on the go the rest of the day.  She splits a shift at St Francis in the Tenderloin, then over at St Francis Acute which is nestled by Haight Ashbury and Golden Gate Park. Over her lunch break she runs to the bank to file some new paperwork. She does manage to to send Eddie a few texts, mostly a few hearts and other loving emojis. She only gets out two hours late and for that, she's grateful. There's days that Eddie only gets to see her for fifteen minutes through out the entire twenty four hours, especially when she has physical labs she has to attend rather than finishing up her coursework online. It really is wild just how supportive Eddie tends to be regardless of what the situation is, and he's so often willing to put plans and his own goals aside so she doesn't have to and that goes way beyond compromise.

Sometimes she feels guilty about it, wondering if somehow he feels he owes her considering the nature of their original friendship. If he sometimes thinks if he isn't a little more self-interested he's doing something wrong, if he owes her entirely too much. She's never told him about that fear, or how it hurts her on a level she can't even fully unpack, the idea that maybe he isn't always as happy as she is, or that he's afraid of upsetting her. She pushes that aside on the drive back.

She's planning on asking if he wants to order pizza or Chinese takeaway when she walks in and kicks her shoes off at the door, setting her bag down, but Eddie strikes first. His grin is a little lop-sided and it almost looks more like a nervous tic, but all the same, Beth is utterly enchanted by it. Her own is small but its bright despite its weariness.

"Hey---oh. Oh it is...huh." Beth is genuinely surprised as his lips graze her brow,  and then when he presents their dining table. Her face lights up and throws her arms around his waist, giving his middle the tightest squeeze she can manage. "You remember. Is it so bad I nevah did?"

She slowly lets him go and then makes her way over to the table. She picks up the card and giggles like a little girl. She traces the images with a fingertip enjoying very much the innocently childlike drawing of Venom, their combined form, and the little bits that she could see Eddie added with his heavy scrawl. Her heart catches when she flips it open and sees Venom standing side-by-side with Spidey. She hadn't realised how much she missed her friend until that moment, and she hoped that whatever he was doing, he was happy. That's really all she wished for those who were closest to her.

"Oh, Ekkie," she whispers as she reads the inscription and her gaze flutters up toward him, lashes damp and every aspect of her features shows an emotional softness. She sets the card down reverently down, before she picks up the box. And just as precisely as the box is wrapped, so is her unwrapping. It takes her almost five minutes to take the outer layer apart, anticipation growing. The box is the right size and shape to hold a ring. It shows itself to be a jewelry box. Her stomach tightens.

When she opens it, though, there's almost a sense of relief that rushes down her spine. It isn't that she would have been horrified if it was the other way, if the gorgeously inscribed necklace were instead a ring. She wouldn't have said no. She doesn't know why her shoulders relax. Why her smile grows and she pulls the curtain of her dark hair aside, and presents her slender neck to Eddie. "Would you help me pu' it on?"

As she waited for his help, she walks back to the last thing he'd said. "An' while ya right, an' it had been a day ann'a half, I'd love to order a pizza, an' curl up on da couch. Mebbe watch a film an' gorge ourself on chocolate cake til we go into sugah coma." 

[brooklynislandgirl]

~*~ Maria is so very proud of herself when she puffs her chest out and plants her fists on her hips, every bit her father's child in form if not stature. When she tells Beth that she'd been in charge of the planning and that they had an amazing day mapped out for their family of three, because "It's your birthday, Beth!" She can't help but smile at the little girl then glance up at Luka, an amused but also knowing look.  She wonders how much input he had in this, how much of a hand beyond the financing Maria allowed him. The goofy grin tells her either way it doesn't matter and that father and daughter were simply pleased to celebrate. Beth takes a moment to exchange work clothes for something more comfortable when Maria tells her she's overdressed. Coney Island. They start and end in the Luna Park, where Beth's favourite two rides, the Clipper and the Carousel reside. The wristbands they get allow them to have free-run of the park and between there's the rainbow popcorn and the mile-tall drinks, the Nathan stands and so on.It's full dark before they end up returning home and Maria insists on two things as Luka carries her up the stairs; that Beth has to open her gift first and that they eat her cake for breakfast. A silent set of looks exchanged between her and Luka and she agrees to this. The gift turns out to be a beautifully illustrated copy of the Princess Bride, Beth's favourite book. After changing into her pyjamas, brushing her teeth and washing her face and being tucked in by her father, Maria waits for Beth to start reading. They manage three chapters before the little girl is fast asleep, wiped out by the fullness of the day. If she's honest, so is Beth. Her limbs are heavy when she takes off her new necklace and earrings. When Luka starts to turn off the birthday banner, she asks him softly to leave it on and offers him a soft kiss. "Aye, luv, as ye wish." She crawls into bed beside him, and rests her head on his shoulder. "Mahalo for all of it, Lu'a. It was incredible." 

[brooklynislandgirl]

Texts sent after the photo: 

[Beth] Leaving tomorrow morning for an extended long weekend.

[Beth] We’ll pick up your birthday gift then. 

[Beth] That house is yours as well and I figured this might be a good start, for all the books and little things you’ve collected.

[Beth] Happy birthday, Wildcat.

~*~

One of the things Beth has come to understand is the nature of Raylan’s work. That while he’s based in the Lexington office, he might be sent anywhere in the state, could be pulled into other states on his reclamation of a fugitive, that there are no such things as office hours, guarantees, or a promise he’ll always be safe. One of the rituals they strive to maintain is that after work on Fridays, he tries to  make the drive down to Harlan, where he finds a hot meal ~thanks to Ava and some of the other ladies, though she doesn't really mention this~ and a cool drink. They cram a life between the minute he gets his boots on the porch until the last kiss Monday morning before the sun comes up when he drives back to work. Having been raised to be the perfect soldier's wife, she doesn't complain. She can see him whenever she likes if she goes up to the city, and she knows he'll be hers for two days. Sometimes it worries her that he isn't properly socially adjusted but then, Raylan's never made his dislike of his home state a secret, had told her he was happier almost anywhere else. All that being known, though, when she hears Brady Seals' Kentucky Boy snippets playing, she can't help but have mixed feelings; excitement to hear from him, and a touch of fear that something's come up. Especially since it's only Tuesday. She sets down her paintbrush and scoops up her phone. And then the smile begins to bloom almost instantly.First, it's knowing that by extended weekend he means Wednesday through Sunday, maybe a little extra. Second, its the idea that he is acknowledging that his family home is now theirs, a place to build their life together. And with reclaimed barn wood, to boot. It's repurposing the old, fixing the past with the future. The meaning in that is not lost on her and her heart skips a beat or two in the process. {Text: Ilmaku}  Why Raylan Givens, I do declare, are you trying to seduce me with distressed wood? {Text: Ilmaku} Because it's working ;) {Text: Ilmaku} Just having you home is gift enough but I love it. ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤  Mahalo nui loa. {Text: Ilmaku} Promise me you'll come home safe, and we can make up for lost time in bed. With waffles.

[brooklynislandgirl]

~*~

Janine the triage is the first to notice the necklace, but the woman had an eagle eye.

"Birthday gift, honey?"

Beth smiles and nods.

"Mmrmm. That's a giraffe. Used to seein' you covered in sharks. You finally decide to trade up to mammals?"

She's quick to pat Beth on the back when she half-breathes her coffee. When she can speak again, she says "Something like dat."

There's cupcakes in the lounge, and small cards and gifts from the rest of the nurses. The best gift though is when Geoffrey comes in an two hours early and corners her in the lounge to get a rundown on her notes. He brushes his knuckles against her cheek. Reminds her that she was there covering for him when his husband broke a leg skiing in Vermont.

"Whoever put those stars in your eyes and makes you smile like that? He's worth getting you out of here. Bring me back a souvenir."

It doesn't occur to Beth how he knows until she's already in the parking lot, dangling nearly a foot off the ground, with Billy's arm around her waist to keep her from slipping. And then he kisses her and she doesn't really think at all.

The next time she's aware that other people exist is when they are sitting in First Class. Even if there's space between the passengers, and it's far quieter than it would have been in coach, it's too loud of Beth. Paired with her terror of flying and the sensory overload the only thing she could do is press her face into the side of his chest, shaking subtly.

Billy wraps his arms around her and leans down, murmuring sweet and soft things into her hair, promising that nothing was ever going to happen, nothing would hurt her. Whether it is the specific tone of his voice or a twisting of the tapestry that worked his enlightened science upon her is impossible to say but whatever the trick, it works. She settles and soothes and spends most of the long flights curled up against him.

She finally wakes up as he's carrying her over the threshold of their private bungalow. She doesn't know how he manages to do it. Their luggage is already sitting in the closet waiting to be unpacked. The table on the balcony is set with a romantic breakfast for two, including mango mimosas. How did he even know that is her favourite? Oh, and then cake.

He sets her on the end of the bed as if she's the most delicate thing in the world. "Happy Birthday, Izzy."

The food will keep.

She shifts her hips and wraps her legs around his waist, pulling him down with all her might. "Don' I get a kiss?"

[brooklynislandgirl]

“Happy Birthday, dear Beth!!!! Happy Birthdayyyyy toooo yoooooou!” Brian sang as he presented the small cupcake jammed with candles. 

The presents were small, silly things that he’d picked out for her through the year. Just a small way to let her know that he’d been thinking about her. “Make a wish."  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ The birthday gift Beth had given herself was to put in for two weeks vacation. And permission not to feel guilty about it with how understaffed the hospital was. Even as it stood, last night had been her last shift for fourteen glorious days and she'd been run into the ground. Summer was just like that. It was already almost nine in the morning before she'd gotten out. Now it's almost three in the afternoon, the day having been mostly slept away. Eventually though, she surfaces from beneath the covers. Makes her way into her bath and does ordinary things, finishing up with washing her face and brushing her teeth. She pulled her hair up and didn't bother to change out of her pyjamas which consisted of sweat shorts, and one of Andy's outgrown tee-shirts. She pads to the kitchen and pours herself a cup of coffee before flowing out to the deck.She isn't surprised to find Brian there. Or when he mentioned Andy'd run out for a few more last minute supplies for her party. She smiles, and thanks him for helping out and coming, and what follows was their typical bouts of banter. She should have been suspicious when he asked if she was hungry, but instead admits that she is. Which is when he disappeared inside and returned, singing. She might as well have been the sun itself for the glow in her face, her eyes as she looked up at him, the cup cake being set in front of her, the gifts by her leg. "Brian, you're so sweet" she breathes his name with a smile before she turned to look at the treat. She contemplates for a moment, not actually having made wishes in a long time. Then she closes her eyes, purses her lips, and blows.The candles flicker out in that one fanned breath, and she sits back, turning her face upward. Eyes still closed, her lips remain pursed but in a different way.

[brooklynislandgirl]

Happy Birthday Beth!

How can you tell if two sharks are friends?

They act chummy with each another.

Love you forever

Tabs

[brooklynislandgirl]

[brooklynislandgirl]

Mikhail understands the blooms are delicate things. Quite unlike the traditional rose, robust beneath their velvet petals and stems which stand soldier-straight for nights upon end. No, these plump island stars have no interest in being adorned upon bouquets. Once plucked from the branch, slid behind the curve of a young woman’s ear, there is at best a rotation or few of the Earth before the edges begin to rot and the lustrous whites or sunset hues slip to brown.

 He requests the arrangements, regardless. Leaves it to viper-like professionals with transportation networks better than his. Payment to the one who presses a chilled box into his hands soon after night falls and ask no further questions. June creeps towards the full wrath of a New York summer and Mikhail shields the plumeria from those tendrils of warmth, ruthlessly attempting to tamper with Beth’s gift.

If granted free rein, every surface of Beth’s bedroom would be covered with the flowers. Misha would drown her in the lush scent in which he catches hints of gardenia or jasmine or the tang of a peach dripping with juice. But one box must be enough. Beth does prefer her greenery thriving in the ground. She will forgive him this trespass, that he knows. Anniversaries of birth are reason enough.

The book, at least, will last her a while. It has survived a couple of centuries, telling a long tale of thwarted love, even if the author themselves has drifted into oblivion among modern bibliophiles. Not quite the masterfully crafted syllabic beats of poetry Mikhail is prone to sharing with his beloved sprite. But as is the pardon he will need for the petals, anniversaries of birth are the time for sentimental indulges, whether in words, or the night-blooming flowers of Beth’s homeland. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Andy and Beth had enjoyed dinner out together. It had been a quiet, tasteful ~no pun intended~ affair, and not even the late appearance of the Admiral could sour things, though she was grateful when they finally left the restaurant. Even moreso when they arrive home without incident. Andy pours them both a drink and they talk for nearly half an hour before he kisses her brow and heads to bed. Unlike her, he has work in the morning. She leans into his arm briefly, and air kisses the space near it, bidding him a peaceful slumber.

She takes a little longer to finish her wine before padding to her room. On it's threshold her awareness bursts into scintillating light before dimming again. A lot like what she imagines a ruptured aneurysm to feel like, but she can't quite put her finger on it. She extends her perceptions outward, searching for any sign of life where none ought to be, and finds exactly nothing.

Not until she catches the faint whiff of home. The sea air in New York is different, not nearly as warm, inviting as what she is used to, and she has to cut through various other scents to take hold of the salt tang. But that is easy to do, what is much harder to replicate is the particular sweetness of lei flower. A bloom rarely found on the mainland, and even those are hothouse grown, or have a gardener like her tending to them. She takes a deep breath and exhales it slowly. Other things come to her then; something dusty, paper and old. Ink that is not modern. Leather. Something wholly mysterious she cannot describe even with the command of languages she knows. It makes her smile because she knows exactly who it is.

She turns her head over her shoulder. Under her breath she chants a song of life and dreams, a deep and restful lullabye, accompanied by hand gestures that are meaningless to most others. She weaves her enchantments around her brother, ensuring his sleep is deep, uninterruptible. For good measure, she adds another layer to it, switching it to a more warlike tone, a flick of her tongue and a gnashing of her teeth. She weaves together the lingering forces of the apartment. Sound and motion-proofing her spacious rooms. Then she steps in and closes the door behind her.

Her green-gold eyes take on an iridescent catlike sheen as she improves her vision, leaving the lights off and working only by the illumination of the neon and the moon vying for prominence beyond her windows. She saunters to where her gifts await her. And while it may have no meaning to him, specifically, Beth breathes in one of the luscious red-tinged plumeria before tucking it carefully behind her right ear. In the morning she will tend to them, keep them alive and fragrant for as long as she likes.

It is the book that next draws her attention, and she leans down to smell it, too. Fingertips itching to trace the words hand written onto the page, a rarity that maybe dates it before the invention of the Gutenberg press, but perhaps it is rather more a personal account sure to feed her imagination, nourish her spirit.

"Your taste...is exquisite," she says softly, a tone meant to grace his ear alone. "Will you show yaself, so I can t'ank you properly, my Mischa?"  

[brooklynislandgirl]

Hau`oli Lā Hānau to the loveliest lady in all the verse. From,

Her Ron.

“Ho...how ya even....” To hear the words spoken in her native tongue, a difficult one even when one had grown up on the islands, is so impressive that it catches her breath. Then to see the translation written in the sand ~and oh how she can imagine the time of it Ron must have had, wrestling the stick used from Claude’s iron-strong maw... She’s well and truly melted. “Mahalo, Kanuha. I’m...” Her arms wind around his neck.

[brooklynislandgirl]

"Happy birthday Beth!".

Beth has often teased about committing murder but the closest she gets to it is half-dreamy contemplations that quickly melt away when she gets to the planning stage. So when she hears the bean grinder, she ruefully scrunches up in bed, and listens to it for a few minutes, trying to decide which is the greater biological imperative: sleep...or coffee. A few minutes later she’s wrapping herself up in her dressing robe and padding out from her room into the rest of the apartment. It isn’t her sibling’s face she sees in the kitchen, though, but their friend Kit. Immediately the last vestiges of criminal homicide flee from her thoughts. “Hey, howsit?” she murmurs drowsily, stifling a yawn. That’s before she notices the flowers, and the smile on the other woman’s face. And the presents sitting on the counter. It takes another second and the greeting for her to put the pieces together and then she blushes. “Oh. Oooh.” After that, she’s motion and light. She comes around the corner and offers Kit a hug, one that is just as warm and as doting in its affections as the ones her brother gives. A little ridiculous coming from someone nearly half his size but perhaps it is a family trait. “Choke mahalo!” The two pigin words convey her multitude of thanks after she lets go and sits at the island. Innocently, she tucks into the gifts. “Oh, hey! I nevah even knew Chanel made slippah!” The designer flip-flops are donned almost immediately, and Beth waves her ankles in front of her. The colour is beautiful, they have a wonderful weight, and they show off her toes: each one painted individually in a different rainbow colour. Next comes the book and her smile deepens. It isn’t even opened as she hugs it to her chest and closes her eyes.

“I nevah feel so much myself as when I’m inna hot bat’. I lay in dat tub on da seventeen floor of dis hotel for women-only, high up ovah da jazz an’ push of New York, for near unto an hour, an’ I felt myself growin’ pure again. I don’ believe in baptism or da waddah of Jordan or any kine li’dat, but I guess I feel about a hot bat’ da way dose religious people feel abou’ holy waddah.” And finally, the bracelet which she also slips onto her wrist and wriggles it so the charms tinkle together. This makes her smile grow and once more she profusely thanks Kit, this time in more cultivated English. “Didja know... puka shell is a token of good luck, an’ was considered protection charm for sailors?”

[brooklynislandgirl]

Happy Birthday Beth!

Beth is absolutely going to look adorable in that, and I'm half jealous. LOL