Work Text:
The sun rises over Oakhurst, warm rays glinting off the fresh laid snow blanketing the small town. The fields beyond its walls nearly seem to sparkle, blinding those who dare look upon it.
It’s beautiful. Gorgeous, really, if only Apo could find it in herself to truly appreciate the sight.
She watches from her perch on the tower's peak, resigned to her duty as gargoyle, watching over the human populace as they rise from rest. A promise that the beacon will stay protected with her restless watch.
That and, of course, the tentatively brokered peace the castle aligned have promised the town.
For one day, and one night.
As if Apo would believe that for a second.
“Oi!” Martyn’s voice shatters the silence. Apo startles with the sound, realising the town isn’t quite as sleepless as it had been. Folks are rising and going about their day's tasks.
“Quit your brooding and get down here!” Martyn calls up again, more insistent.
Apo groans, moving to glare down at him from her tower perch. Martyn's unerring grin greets her, a brow raised as he gestures with his arms. As if he could pull her down from 20 feet below her.
“It’s the Solstice! A time of celebration!” he calls up again, goading and with slight exasperation. “Can’t you stop moping for once!?”
Frustration curls in Apo’s stomach. About as close as she can get to physical exhaustion weighs her down as the sun's rays begin to reach her. The near endless feeling night is over, and Martyn has the gall to think she’s overreacting?
“It’s about to be the longest night of the year, and we’re all stuck in a vampire town!” Apo hisses down at him, gesturing pointedly over the white coat laying over the town.
Martyn huffs from his distance away, rolling his eyes before stepping through one of the doors of the town. Probably to check on the beacon, make sure it wasn’t turned even with Apo standing guard.
They scowls into the path where his boot prints remain. Martyn’s usually been the first in line for paranoia-
Okay well maybe not the first. Avid would have been. Then maybe Ren. But Martyn was certainly up there! His lack of caution just because the castle folk have pinky promised to keep their distance for the holiday is, in Apo’s reasonable and correct opinion! Bullshit!
Apo simmers, watching over the town as their mind turns. Right up until they hear the weight of a hatch door smacking into the ground. They jump, turning just in time for Martyn to crawl up into the tower top next to them.
They hiss at him, startled. He rolls his eyes.
“What’s gotten you all bent up this morning?” Martyn laughs, standing and moving to sidle next to her.
His body heat leaches through his thin clothes. She leans into it, despite her irritation.
She misses feeling warm. Given the way Martyn shivers and matches her weight against him, she figures he’s pretty sick of the cold too.
“They’re going to pull something,” Apo huffs, looking out over the town instead of at Martyn. Past the walls, onto the snow blanketed woods.
The castle view is protected by trees. It only makes her more antsy, to not have a clear line of sight.
“You were there when we negotiated our little truce,” Martyn sighs, agonized. As if this is a problem for him that she is vigilant. “We all get a standstill for celebrations!”
“You don’t honestly believe that, do you?” Apo hisses, looking down at him sharply. He glares, unimpressed, back at her.
It only frustrates her more. They are sure that the meager blood in their system is flushing their cheeks as they step back from him, gesturing out over the town emphatically.
“We don’t all honestly think they’ll just leave us alone on the most powerful night they’ll have baring a blood moon!?” she insists. What else can she do? Apo feels like the only person with her head screwed on straight in this wretched town.
“Normally I wouldn’t, no,” Martyn raises a brow, sighing as he moves and gestures to her to follow him back down the trapdoor. “But I overheard some of 'em out in the woods yesterday. Apparently traditions have changed a bit over the past few centuries, so they’ll be just as wrapped up in celebrating as we are!”
“Really?” Apo drawls, sarcasm made home on her tongue. She doesn’t dare hope, no matter how much she would like a break from vigilance.
Martyn doesn’t rise to the bait, merely smiling at her, reaching to take her hand in his and pull her towards the trapdoor.
“We’ll be fine,” he laughs, and despite everything, Apo concedes to him.
She follows him down out of the tower, despite knowing she could jump off the top unharmed, at least in any way that matters. She could fly too. Instead, she keeps close to Martyn, pretending she is still whole, and lets him prod and joke at her side.
“Em and I were thinking we should have a Militia-only celebration!” Martyn shares when their feet are finally on the ground again, winter chill swirling through the streets.
“So what? You, me, Ren, and Em?” They raise their brow. Martyn grins up at them, undeterred.
“Yeah, of course!” he laughs. “Imagine it, mead and games down in the bunker would be great!”
It sounds… well it does sound nice. A moment of rest in a secure place with the closest thing they have to community here in Oakhurst.
“Alright, I’m in,” they laugh softly. Martyn cheers, shaking at their arm slightly from where he latches on.
“Great! Because I’ve already volunteered us for decoration duty!” he laughs, pulling them along suddenly down the street.
She startles, but laughs, and can’t find it in herself to mind being dragged around by Martyn. They visit Pearl and barter for some of her spare candles, then for some painted stones Avid and Drift have decorated, and finally collecting some spare banner fabric Apo had laying around.
It’s… actually all going rather well, Apo has to admit. Even as she feels a sort of otherness from her body, of going through the motions in her fetch quest. It’s hard not to, when Martyn’s teasing and ribbing and bodily warmth at her side all seems to merge and overlap with memories of Solstices past.
Of Cherri at their arm, dragging them along, just like this. Of Cherri having them help decorate, always so specific and particular with how it goes. So much so Apo thinks they might be better off just doing it herself. But they wanted Apo to help, so they did.
Cherri holding their hand, warm and tight. As if she'd never let Apo go. Cherri smoothing creases on their coat and resituating their scarf before they leave. The insistence that Apo is modelling her designs, they should show off properly.
Apo knowing it’s all half excuses to be close to her. To share her warmth with Apo, a sunbeam in winter to keep Apo whole.
She tightens her grip on Apo’s arm, smiling determined as they step out into the crisp winter air. Then Apo blinks, and Cherri is gone. Martyn stands in her place with such a similarly sunlit smile. His eyes twinkling and mischief on his tongue.
And Apo is cold, because she cannot warm herself. Martyn’s body heat leaches off of him through his frankly unfitted wardrobe.
All in an instant Apo is untethered from the brief holiday joy she’d felt. Caught between a past she mourns as much as her future.
There’s something on their face. Apo flinches back as Martyn pulls away from some blue dye he’d nicked from Drift. His hand is outstretched and a bark of laughter leaves his lips as he smears it playfully across her nose.
It’s funny. It’s goading. It’s cute. But for a moment Apo can’t see Martyn at all.
Blinking, and she’s suddenly home. She is in her house, and Cherri is in front of her, hand outstretched and covered in batter. Cooking their Solstice meal together despite knowing the mess it will end up with.
Apo blinks again, and it's only Martyn. Her cozy home is gone. Cherri is gone.
It’s a terrible rush, looking down at Martyn and realising exactly what happened. The similarities between Cherri and Martyn are so strong. It strikes her almost hysterically how well they would get along. How much Martyn fits her type.
Apo stumbles away. She feels warm in the face despite not knowing if she’s ever drank nearly enough to blush like this. Overwhelmed in an instant by the comparison, to understand how important Martyn is to her life here.
It’s too much, as Martyn tilts his head slightly, questioningly, his smile unwavering as he moves to ask her something.
So Apo does what she does best in times of crisis: she runs away.
She turns on her heels and she walks away. Leaving behind the decorations they’d gathered together. The shout of surprise from Martyn is crisp and consuming and only pushes her into a run. There is only one goal in her mind as she trips into bat form and swoops out of town over the walls, away from Martyn.
The cold is enveloping, but numbing. It washes through her fur in a way she doesn’t know how to feel about. She stumbles back into the closest thing she has to humanity. Her boots crunch in the unbroken snow as she treks further and further through the fields outside of Oakhurst. She straddles the space between the walls and the woods as she hikes towards where she knows the border to be.
She walks straight into it, bouncing off the surface with frustrated rejection. She growls, out of instinct alone, kicking the blasted holy magic.
The swarm of holy spirits at her fingertips as she pushes whisper in riddles. As if Apo could be bothered to care about a single thing they want. She just needs to go home.
The crushing weight in her chest seems tenfold with her revelations of Martyn. The unbidden memories of her love in a time where her friend had meant to distract her.
Apo was supposed to be home with Cherri by the holidays. She had promised her.
All in a moment their anger turns inward, transforming into the grief they’d let build and drive her for the last plentiful months. They crumble into the snow, unable to care as it soaks their dress.
The winter coat Cherri made her is packed away at home. They haven't had to wear it. What good will it do when they don't produce their own body heat anymore? When they can’t freeze to death? When their death has already been stolen from them?
It’s the final straw, a sob wretching its way from her throat as they claw against the border. Until they’ve tired themself out. Until they let their head slip and lean against the wall, their arms coming to hold themself instead.
“Please-” they hiss more than they whimper. “Let me go home.”
As if the holy spirits hold any empathy for them, especially now.
The crunching of snow underfoot approaches behind her. She doesn’t dare look up, look back. Remaining with her head pressed to the wall of their prison.
A presence, warm and undeniably human settles next to her.
“Leave-” she hisses, half choked in an attempt to threaten.
Martyn scoffs. “Fat chance.” She swears she can hear him rolling his eyes.
His weight nestles next to her, leaning into her curled frame. He’s lost the supplies they’d gathered. Passed it off to Em maybe, like they were meant to.
He’s wearing the same clothes as before, she notes. The same clothes as always really. He might have borrowed some warmer layers from Renhardt or Sausage, who came packed with other outfits.
But no one had been prepared to stay here till winter, none but her. Looking at Martyn tugging his small fashionable capelet over his arms, she thinks it's a miracle no one here has frozen to death.
His once classy shoes are wrapped in leather, protecting him from frostbite in his toes at the very least. But the snow soaks through his pants where he’s stubbornly sat down.
Really, of everyone who arrived in Oakhurst, Apo suddenly fears Martyn arrived with the least. Little more than the clothes on his back, a twisted ankle, and some pocket lint.
Now here he is, shivering and stubbornly trying not to catch a cold tucked to her side.
“Are you not afraid of getting sick or something?” Apo sighs, just barely looking over at him. “Go back to town.”
Martyn doesn’t respond in words really, startling a yelp out of Apo instead as he tries to worm his way under her arm and capelet. She lets him, as much as she feels it's her right to scowl at him as he does.
“It’s freezin’ out here-!” he swears under his breath, pressing closer. “I’ll head back when you come with me.”
It’s such a stupid declaration. Because Martyn is stupid. And the way he’s making her feel is stupid.
“I can’t feel the cold,” she lies blatantly. It can’t hurt her is a more accurate statement.
“What are you even doing out here?” Martyn scoffs, shifting more, as if there's any warmth to be siphoned from Apo.
He’s in a desert searching for water, and Apo is his mirage. Something in the shape of a person which should keep him warm, but won’t.
“We can’t leave, there’s no point to freezing your arse off out-” Martyn yaps, teeth chattering, and all at once Apo can’t take it.
“I know!” they snap, far louder than they want to be. “I-” they soften ever barely, tears they didn’t know they had left welling in their eyes. “I know.”
They bite their tongue, unsure of what else to do. To keep herself quiet, keep how frustrated and afraid and grievous they are.
Apo shakes, and she hates being able to tell the moment Martyn realises what’s happening to her. The awkward looking up at her, unease in his features. Because Martyn is silly and foolhardy and paranoid and-
He’s not a comfort. He’s something soft to indulge in. He doesn’t know how to be what Apo needs from him now.
And yet here in this moment, he tries.
“Are you alright?” he stammers through, leaning closer still. Apo takes pity, wrapping a free arm around him and letting him pull closer.
“No. No of course I’m not,” Apo scoffs, voice wet with tears. “I was supposed to be home for the holidays! I was supposed to be home with Cherri a week ago.”
Her arm squeezes around him as she shudders. The habit of breath pushed from her lungs.
The air doesn’t even fog when she breathes. Doesn’t even try.
“Instead I’m still trapped here, and it isn’t fair!”
Martyn shifts, no words spoken. She wonders if he could say anything, with his teeth chattering so loudly.
Apo sighs, readjusting her hold on him. It’s not much, she knows it isn’t. But she’s trying. The way he leans into her makes it almost seem like enough.
“You must have someone you miss?” Apo murmurs, staring out into the fast wilderness beyond the barrier. “Someone waiting for you.”
Martyn remains quiet for a long moment, enough so Apo nearly fears she’s drawn this out too long. That she has to get him back to town before there's an actual problem.
“Yeah, of course,” Martyn insists half-heartedly. “Dad might’ve left me in the woods, but I’m sure he’s worried.”
Martyn laughs, a forced thing. Apo doesn’t comment.
“Besides, gotta get back to the warm manor after all this! Don't I?” he grins mischievously.
He’s hiding something. But aren’t they all?
She doesn’t pry. Just huffs, shifting to stand and pull him up alongside her.
“We should get you back to town before you catch frostbite.” Apo forces a smile. Martyn laughs, grinning devilishly.
“Too late for that I fear, can’t feel my toes!” he laughs. “Race ya!”
Martyn gets his headstart whilst Apo processes. She watches him trip and stumble, all but scrambling through the snow back towards town.
It’s so incredibly goofy looking she can’t help but laugh. A loud joyful thing she’s rarely had in so long.
Apo wins their little race of course, even with Martyn’s headstart. She was always going to. Even if Martyn says it’s cheating since vampires are naturally faster.
They fight in a stupid, unimportant way. Bickering and grinning as they stalk through town. Dragging each other along and standing far too close, and still covered in snow just - laughing.
Apo’s laughing. She feels like a mad woman. She feels alive again. Ever briefly.
“Oh what in good heavens happened to ye both!” Renhardt finds them as they’re approaching Apo’s house.
Apo looks over. Em is with him. The writer is carrying a few dark bottles. Renhardt has a burlap bag of potatoes she presumes he’s gotten from Cleo. Both are staring with partial concern and amusement.
“Rich boy here is an idiot,” Apo rolls her eyes as Martyn squawks in offense. “Chased me down in the snow.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be getting me a coat?” Martyn shivers, pouting pointedly.
Because yes, Apo was going to lend him her coat since she doesn’t need it. But right now she’s making fun of him.
“Working on it,” she grins down at him. Martyn sticks his tongue out at her.
“You’re both still joining us for our little militia celebration right?” Em asks, brow raised and wiggling towards Martyn briefly. “That should warm you right up!”
“Ay, I’ll be making some mighty warm meals for the lot of us, don’t cha know!” Renhardt grins, either missing or ignoring Em’s innuendo.
Martyn snorts. Apo rolls her eyes.
Idiots, all of them.
“Yeah, course we’re coming, Specs!” Martyn grins, elbowing Apo as he does pointedly. “You think I’m missing a free meal?”
Martyn laughs broadly, Em joining him. Apo can feel herself withdrawing again. Ren’s eyes trace her, forlorn almost.
“Ay, I’m cooking for every one of ye! Even spoke with Cleo a wee bit,” his eyes level with Apo slightly nervous but determined. “I hope it’ll be to your liking, Miss Apo.”
Oh - Apo hadn’t. Apo hadn’t considered Renhardt would -
She raises a hand, waving him off as she looks away. A flush rises to her cheeks. Tears from not so long ago haunt her as she looks away.
“That's - I’m sure it’ll be great, Ren!” they insist, unsure of what to do with the mix of nerves and appreciation settling in their stomach. “We’ll meet back with you soon!”
Apo waves them off, pulling Martyn along as they flush. They lead Martyn to their house instead.
It’s not much warmer than outside, but it protects them from the windchill. Martyn takes to their bed, shivering and messing up their blankets as he draws them close.
Apo merely rolls her eyes as he curses himself and tries to warm up. They turn, rummaging around in their suitcase and very quickly finding their winter coat. It was lovingly made by Cherri, in dark colours and mauve red accents with furred detailing.
It’s nice. Nicer than most things Apo would afford herself. They just hope it's good enough for Martyn.
She stands, turning towards him and thrusting the coat towards him pointedly.
“Take it,” she says, as if she has to convince him. Convince herself she’s letting him. “Borrow it,” she amends quickly. “I don’t need to see you dying of hypothermia.”
“Aw you do care!” Martyn cracks again, mischief in his eyes.
He laughs to himself as he pulls the coat on feverishly over his clothes. Apo watches as he sinks gratefully into the warmth of the soft inner fabric and fur. He holds it tight around himself.
“Why on earth do you have a winter coat again?” he laughs, inspecting the fabric curiously. “And such fine quality!”
He leans forward, cold forgotten as he looks up at Apo. As if to think she might have stolen it. She scoffs.
“I was always going to be here ‘til winter, cursed beacons or not. I was prepared,” she shrugs longsufferingly. “My love is a seamstress. She’s made a lot of my clothes. I just hadn’t really needed to wear the coat since…”
She trails off, swallowing her disappointment, the lingering grief as he looks at her claws. She knows Martyn is looking too.
“Well it won’t go to waste!” he chimes, assuring and pulling the coat almost tighter. As if to get the most of it. “We should get going, back to the tavern. Best not keep Renhardt and Em waiting!”
Apo huffs as the conversation moves, but acquiesces. The two of them wander back through down, Martyn with far more pep in his step now that he isn't freezing.
He fills the air as they walk. Blathering on complimenting the coat, its good craftsmanship, and how tasteful it is. Somewhere between boasting about his own wealth and trying to make sure Apo knows how thankful he is.
It might have been annoying, if Apo weren’t so fond of him right now.
Well, it might still be annoying. But Apo is choosing to focus on the warmth in her life for once. She is rolling her eyes as they approach the tavern.
It’s as they approach that Apo takes in the town around them. The few folks pattering about seem to mostly be settled in their homes. Lights warm the frosted windows. The sun, once high in the sky and blinding them glinting off snow, now dips into the horizon.
“The sun is gone so soon,” Apo mourns aloud. Dragging her feet slightly, as she looks around. Wary.
“Well it is the Solstice,” Martyn raises a brow, before looking to the sky. “The sky sure is beautiful.”
It’s a distraction. She knows it is. But with townsfolk safely in their homes and no sight of the castle folks at all, Apo fears she may have to hand it to him.
It may be a peaceful celebration after all. Who would have thought?
Arriving inside the tavern, Apo can’t help her jealousy at the smell of food. Turns out, Renhardt is actually a heavenly cook. And that is deeply unfair, she has to say.
Steaks for each of them, cooked and seasoned well. A side of potatoes and carrots. Garlic potato, the sort of thing Apo would have readily scarfed down would it not make her deeply sick now…
She still considers asking for a bite, out of spite of her condition if nothing else. She doesn’t, but she thinks about it…
Thankfully, Martyn seems quick to voice all the compliments Apo keeps locked behind her teeth. Ren stood near the bar beams under the praise.
Although it quickly becomes clear he’s a bit preoccupied. He and Sausage, with no forethought between them, are trying to safely ferry the plates down the ladder into the militia’s bunker. A tedious and frankly ridiculous affair by Apo’s account.
Em is climbing down, Renhardt above him trying to relay the dishes it seems. Apo really just hopes no one stumbles.
Carefully, they manage to find their words to join Martyn in complimenting the smell, albeit quieter.
Renhardt thanks them, smiling awkwardly as he sizes them up.
“I did what I could with the ah- rare steak. Don’t cha know?” he says pointedly, nodding down the ladder where Apo realises they can smell something more bloody. “Cleo said it should be good?”
Apo nods, unsure of what else to say. There is appreciation and embarrassment in equal measures within them.
They focus instead on the rather comical display of Martyn and themself getting dragged in to help ferry food down the ladder, into the meeting room. Including the most vital game of hot potato they’ve ever played.
Miraculously, nothing gets dropped or spilled. Apo counts that as a true vision of hope on such a hopeless Solstice.
Apo isn’t sure what she expected, finally arriving in the bunker. She’s been there before, she hadn’t thought much would be changed.
For the most part it isn't. It's still a small room with a big table and four chairs. But as her feet hit the floor and she ducks into the open, she feels her eyes widen to take it all in.
Paper snowflakes hang in chains across the walls. Blue paint decorates a few of the snowflakes, others left off-white. A nice, albeit simple, white tablecloth is thrown over the table itself. There's candles lit through the room, creating an air of warmth.
Reminding her that though this is the darkest day of the year, there is hope. There is a light at the end of this tunnel, and the world is not as dreary as life has been for her these last months.
There is hope.
It’s simple. But it's nice. More than Apo thought they’d get.
“Do you like it?” Em seems to all but appear at her side, latching onto their arm, his warmth bleeding into them as they watch Renhardt and Martyn set the table. “I got to put up everything you and Martyn gathered!”
Apo can only blink, taking it in. Em grinning at their side reminds them to temper their appreciation, shrugging him off with a slight smile.
“Looks fine,” they say, grin growing wider as Em’s expression falls. Whining about his brilliance being stifled exaggeratedly.
They can’t help it, breaking into laughter. It only spurs Em onward, harping on and on about how cruel everyone is. Moaning and groaning like a true thespian.
He pulls her by the arm, settling her at the table between Martyn and Ren, across from himself. Apo’s barely processed the spread before her.
Martyn is leaning out, eagerly pouring blueberry mead in each of their cups. Courtesy of Ren. It’s not until he’s hesitating in front of her, glancing, that she seems to realise the problem.
“Can you drink?” he asks, maybe blunter than he meant to, cheeks warm.
“Uh,” Apo hesitates, glancing between the bottle and her empty glass. “I have no idea.”
They really don't. Though they consider for a moment if they’re willing to risk it.
With three friendly faces joining her to celebrate, they feel like they are. They very much are.
“Cleo asked for a spare bottle for themself!” Em pipes up excitedly, leaning in to tip Martyn’s hands, pouring the sweet drink into Apo’s cup. “So it’s probably fine!”
Apo finds herself nodding. It’s a nice reassurance. They would really like a good drink tonight of all nights.
“Thank you,” she says, to Em for the assurance. Or Martyn for pouring. Or Renhardt for putting it all together in the first place. Who’s to say?
Renhardt looks at her warmly. It's too much for her to bear. Apo distracts herself with Martyn and Em bickering over the bottle.
“Are you even old enough to drink?” she teases, leaning forward and raising a brow at Martyn.
His squawk of offense is enough to alleviate any of her nerves. She laughs outright at him as Em wrangles the bottle from his grasp.
“We’re the same age!” he insists hotly, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. “Maybe I’m even older! You don’t know!”
He sticks out his tongue, absolutely not proving his point. She stoops to his level, baring her fangs as she makes her own face of mocking at him.
It’s good. It’s really good. Just to be here with them.
Even if she’d be mortified to admit it with as much depth as it has for her.
It’s as they all finish their round of thanks to Ren, and allow the few holding to their faith their prayers, that they all finally tuck into their plates. They have been carefully set and arranged, beautifully put together.
Staring at everyone else's meals, Apo has to think Ren's outdone himself with what little they have.
Looking down at their own plate, they don’t know how to feel. They hesitate as they reach for their fork.
It’s… steak. They suppose. Raw. Very raw. Very bloody. They thinks there's a light, almost hesitant hint of seasoning.
They nearly laugh outright when they notice. Imagining Renhardt agonizing over the uncooked meat. Unable to stop himself from trying to make something of it.
Apo prods at the meat with her fork. An instinct they wish would leave them alone asks them why they’ve bothering with finery at all. Why not grip it with their claws and dig in with their teeth?
But they hold themself steadfast. Letting themself merely smell the blood, mixing the aroma of the other cooked meals.
They can almost pretend they’re no different. Maybe that’s a gift enough?
The eyes of her friends are hard to miss, even as she avoids them. She can feel the stares. Mixed with the clinking of silverware that is thankfully not real silver, and the sound of chewing.
It's a few moments of Apo playing with her food and taking in the atmosphere of a dinner together, contenting herself with what she has. Then Renhardt clears his throat, drawing her attention.
“If ye would like, Miss Apo, ye could try a bite of mine own plate, don’ cha know?” Renhardt offers hesitantly.
Carefully he shifts closer to her, moving his place for her to access. Not too close, no force but… letting her consider it.
“I admit I don’t really understand how ye creatures work but… surely you can still taste it? Even if it isn’t good for you?” he seems to almost plead with his eyes. Wanting this for her. Wanting to include her.
As if he hasn’t already done all he can. He wants to do more for her.
Apo can’t help herself, laughing slightly. All awkward, surprised, and mourning at once.
“Normal food tastes wrong, it’d be a waste,” they manage to say after a few moments, cheeks feeling warm. Though they doubt they look it.
Still, she eyes the food. Wondering if she should be willing to try anyways. Just to see. Just maybe.
It looks good. Cooked steak, seasoned. A few cooked vegetables, and a heaping of mashed potato that smells suspiciously like…
Oh. She nearly laughs, even as she leans back from the plate with realization. She thought something smelled off but…
There's garlic in the mashed potato. Renhardt must have forgotten, or thought it wouldn’t matter.
“I also uh, haven’t tried garlic like this,” she mumbles, smile strained. “Not keen to try it. Probably shouldn’t push my luck.”
She’s poking fun. It's funny that they forgot. It's hilarious even.
No one else seems to think so though, startling as they look between their plates and her, as if it were poison.
“Oh that’s- I did make garlic mash. That I did…” Renhardt frowns, pulling his plate back to himself.
“That’s not- you're not gonna break out in hives from smellin’ it right?” Martyn asks quickly, clearly antsy.
Apo can’t help it, laughing at him outright as he looks between her and the offending food.
“I’m not going to break out in hives anyways!” she says with a sharp laugh at Martyn's expense. He quickly flusters before scowling playfully.
“Well I don’t know!” he throws his hands up.
Apo just continues to laugh. Freshly reinvigorated, she reaches for her knife and fork, cutting a chunk from the slab of meat set in front of her.
“You all enjoy your burnt meat. I have a very rare steak to enjoy!” she grins sharply, forking a bloody chunk pointedly into her mouth and chewing carefully.
She’s joking, obviously. She’s trying to move the conversation along. To get out of the weird air that's been created with her presence. She doesn’t want to focus on her and her predicament. She doesn’t want to think about how wrong everything has gone anymore.
The first taste of blood on her tongue feels like seeing colour for the first time. Shocking her system with how good it tastes. Even if it's not supposed to, the tentative seasoning Renhardt dared to do seems to elevate the iron rich taste.
God, it’s incredible. It’s exactly what they need.
Overcome with how starved they realise they have been, they find herself leaning on the table slightly. A groan of content leaving her lips before they can stop themself.
The table is quiet watching them. Their cheeks flushed as they realises this is where they are in life. They go in for another cut.
“That’s actually really good,” she says, hushed and embarrassed. She flashes a closed grin to Renhardt. “Thank you.”
Em laughs across from her. Martyn letting an exaggerated sigh from his lungs before tucking back into his food. Renhardt smiles more genuinely, less uneasy. Nodding his head appreciatively.
It’s nice. It’s all just, really, really nice.
The meal carries on, conversations begin to flow with full bellies and mead addled tongues. Apo takes her chances with the alcohol, finding thankfully that while the blueberry taste is a bit dull, it’s not all ash in her mouth.
She can actually enjoy a little drink. Thank god the stories of vampires and their wine have extended her this mercy.
It’s all going incredibly. Each of them poking fun at the bunker, at Sausage’s decorations though he pouts and whines.
“I’m a writer!” he pleads, cheeks flushed and half leaned on the table as if to beg them all for verbal mercy. “You had me decorating! I don’t do that!”
“Ye never dressed up yer home for the holidays, Mr. Em?” Renhardt asks, brow raised. Almost earnest in his concern.
As if this is a grievous upset. Apo chuckles as Em shakes his head emphatically.
“No! If I was decorating at all I’d have someone else do it!” he huffs, crossing his arms. Ren’s brows only seem to furrow further.
“Not even with yer parents? It’s tradition, don’t cha know?” Renhardt frowns further.
Em tilts his head, as if thoughtful, expression screwing up.
“Maybe, when I was just a baby,” Em sighs. “I suppose you all decorate traditionally then?”
Em giggles as he says it. Martyn joins him, though Apo isn’t convinced there's a joke here. Thankfully, Renhardt doesn’t either. Leaning back thoughtfully in his seat.
“I did with me mum all my life,” Renhardt smiles, something warm and full of grief. “This will be my first Solstice since her passing, don’t cha know…”
The room sombers with his words. Martyn and Em’s giggling quiets with open stares.
Ren, for his part, doesn’t look close to a breakdown. Apo can only be thankful of that much. But it's hard to deny his misty eyes and slanted smile.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Apo manages to say, when no one else will. Renhardt smiles at her warmly.
“Ay, thank you Miss Apo. I’ve missed her every day since,” he sighs. “We had always celebrated together. Even in her old age, she always insisted on helping cook. We’d always done it together. Don’t cha know?”
He laughs, a warming chuckle in his chest. Apo tries to think of her own parents. Of what they might be doing this season. She can’t imagine it, though. She’s spent her holidays with Cherri for so long now, and hardly celebrated as a child.
It was Cherri that made Apo’s Solstice memorable. Not the holiday itself.
“Must have been hard cooking by yourself this year,” Martyn mutters, as if unsure if he should speak at all. Apo shoots him a glare. Renhardt just huffs.
“Ay, it was hard. But Mr. Em made a valiant kitchen companion,” he grins towards the author. He raises his mug to the table in a half-hearted toast.
“Even in poor circumstances, I’m glad to spend the holidays with ye lot,” he grins. A gleam in his eyes basks the room in warmth. “After she went, I thought for sure I’d be spending this Solstice alone. Ye company is the best gift a man could ask for, don’t cha know!”
Whether it's him, or the mead, Apo doesn’t know. She merely flushes and takes a drink from her mug herself.
It’s all quite heartwarming. Apo glances around to find that neither Em nor Martyn are nearly as unaffected as they think they’re acting. Martyn’s eyes are glistening a tad with his smile. Em hides his rosy face behind a long drink.
Their hearts are all beating. Suddenly Apo can hear them, pointedly. Steady rhythms all in time together. A choir soothing her alone.
It’s beautiful. Despite everything, they are beautiful.
“I was supposed to be home by now, you know?” she says softly, glancing at Martyn over her drink. “My post here was only meant to last six months. I was going to be on my way home in time to spend it with my love. My Cherri.”
They set their mug down, smiling despite the aching in their chest. It almost feels good, warmed by the alcohol and surrounded by those they’ve found themself quite fond of.
“We would have cooked together too,” they glance at Ren, appreciative of the soft charmed expression on his face. “We would have made a mess of things too. I can’t bake and she can only kind of cook. But we’d both insist on doing it together anyway.”
It’s a soft memory. The memory Martyn had reminded her of earlier, of Cherri reaching out with flour covered fingers. Ready to make a menace of herself. It’s charming. It’s nice to remember.
It’s nicer with Martyn across from them, invoking that same shit-eating grin.
“We would burn candles, and curl up by the fireplace,” they hum when no one interrupts them, tracing the rim of their cup with a claw. “A perfect day.”
“Had the whole night planned out then?” Martyn says, an implicatory grin and a raised eyebrow to accompany his teasing.
Apo flushes, albeit unable to stop herself from smiling. Ren’s hand grasps her shoulder kindly as Martyn chuckles.
“You’ll see her again Miss Apo,” he says, with all the faith of a church with filled pews.
She can’t stop herself from leaning into that warmth. Into his kind eyes and careful words. The assurance of a man who has just admitted to permanent loss, telling her it's not over yet. She has time.
Her mug makes contact with the table, settles just barely before she’s throwing herself at him. Arms wrap around his neck. She feels him startle for barely a second before he softens, pulling her into his arms and holding her tight in return.
“You’re not alone this year,” she murmurs against his hair. She knows he hears it, breath hitching for a moment before his arms tighten.
“None of you will be alone any year after this either!” Em's voice draws Apo back, parting from her hold on Renhardt though they remain close.
“Oh yeah? You’re making sure of that?” Martyn laughs, slightly, looking at the author, beaming under the attention.
“Of course! When we all get out of here everyone will be invited to my estate for a proper Solstice party!” Em puffs up his chest, boasting as much as he is promising.
“Ah, gonna throw a big rich party!” Martyn snickers. Apo laughs as well, settling casually at Ren’s side.
“Of course! And you know a good Solstice these days incorporates a bit of everything!” Em insists, gesturing around them. “A bit of borrowing of traditions makes for excitement!”
Em giggles as Renhardt merely hums consideringly. Apo narrows her eyes at him, the distinct impression that he’s planning something squirming in the back of her mind.
Martyn rolling his eyes before glancing back at Apo commiseratingly is enough to think he’s caught on as well.
“What are your holiday traditions, rich boy?” Apo asks, having grasped Martyn’s attention and keen to cut Em’s blethering short.
They’re also admittedly interested in what a high society lad such as himself might say. Apo’s family had been working class. Ren’s experience seems poorer than theirs, and whilst Em is quick to boast about extravagance now it’s unclear what his childhood was like.
Martyn seems to bluster under the sudden attention of the table, bumbling through his words and looking quite put upon.
“Oh! Well uh my father-” he mumbles something even Apo can’t quite make sense of, looking askance. “You know- not quite traditional…”
With a lot of words that convey next to nothing Martyn reaches for his mug, shutting himself up with a long sip of mead.
Interesting. Apo can’t help but tilt her head, brow raised. Goading for Martyn into continuing. He avoids her gaze
“Anyone else think it's warm in here?” Martyn laughs suddenly, making pointed eye contact with Em, who indulges him with a giggle. “I outta get this coat off!”
Apo rolls her eyes, unable to keep a fond smile away as Em whistles. Letting go of Martyn's avoidance and watching instead as he shrugs off Apo’s coat with a surprising amount of care. Turning as if to fold it on his arm before handing it back.
He hesitates though, eyes seemingly spotting something on the inner collar that leaves him squinting.
Martyn does that a lot, has trouble recognizing people at a distance too. Apo’s beginning to suspect he needs glasses. But what good is there is pointing it out whilst they’re all stuck here?
“Something wrong?” Apo asks, instead of voicing her suspicions. “You didn’t rip something did you?”
She doesn’t think he did, she would have heard it. But her heart dares beat again if only at the fearful idea that he’s torn the jacket Cherri made her.
“Huh? Oh nothing!” Martyn looks up, stunned for a moment before he laughs, leaning to pass her the coat back.
She takes it warily, checking it over before looking back up to find Martyn shrugging off the black capelet he’s always worn.
“I’d just thought I recognized the signature embroidered on it and- yup! Right there!” he turns the fabric of his capelet over, grinning as he points out the stitching.
It’s Cherri’s signature. The tag she sews into all of her creations.
Apo can’t help it, lighting up with a grin as they reach to take the fabric from him, thumbing over the work reverently.
“My love made this!” they affirm with a warm laugh. “Did your family commission a Lady Cherri Fire?”
Martyn seems to startle, cheeks heating as he stumbles his words, looking askance for a moment thoughtfully.
“Oh, it uh- sounds familiar!” Martyn flushes slightly, looking away as he thinks. “That would be my father’s business though.”
“Oh yes, I’m sure your daddy does everything for you!” Em teases with a giggle.
Martyn doesn't laugh, rolling his eyes. “Oh, ha ha. Piss off!”
“Well hey now,” Renhardt says quickly, placatingly. “A parent's love is the purest kind of love here there is! No shame in that, don’t cha know?”
Apo swears the man looks misty eyed. He supposes he has a right to be, missing his late mother as he is. Still, Em giggles don’t cease nor does Martyn abject embarrassment.
In fact, the young lord grumbles and occupies his mouth with a long form of mead.
Apo simply watches. They’re overwhelmed with the warmth of camaraderie, the blood in their system, and the mead.
It’s good. It’s so good they could almost feel normal. Just getting to be warm and enjoy a drink with good people. Even if this isn’t what they planned. What they had wanted.
She’s happy she’s here. So happy to have found them in this hell they’re all trapped in.
Apo zones back into the conversation just barely. She lets the buzz of Em and Martyn’s back and forth make her laugh. Em is leaning in close and making pathetic kissy noises at Martyn whilst he laughs and shoves.
“Oh wait! I have just the thing!” Em suddenly leans back, sticking a hand into his coat and feeling around.
It pauses the room. Everyone watches as Em seems to find what he’s looking for.
Triumphant, Em pulls out and presents a sprig of mistletoe from an inner coat pocket, holding it up in the air over him with a terribly cheeky grin.
Apo feels herself groaning, exasperated and amused, in time with Renhardt and Martyn.
“Oh gods, Em, where did you even get that!” Martyn moans with exaggerated annoyance.
“I found it growing rampant in the woods!” Em boasts, waving the sprig almost tauntingly between Martyn and himself. Martyn grins.
Distinctly, Apo does not.
“You were out in the woods? By yourself?” she snaps suddenly, harshly toned. Warmth stolen in place of worry.
No one else seems to take her concerns nearly as seriously. Em has the audacity to wave the mistletoe in her direction as he leans over the table towards her, grinning cheekily.
“Why, were you worried about me?” he laughs, taunting. Almost beckoning.
Apo doesn’t deign him with a response, scowling while flushed and glaring halfheartedly.
Em is a massive idiot for wandering off into the woods on his own. Even during a truce. But she hates to think she may be one of her idiots, if she’s really going to accept that she’s spent her Solstice night in a basement with these three.
“Ay, Mr Em. While we’re all quite used to your affection,” Renhardt clears his throat slightly. “Perhapse you should give Miss Apo a break. She is missing her lover tonight, you shouldn’t be offering kisses don’t cha know!”
“It’s fine,” Apo huffs, wondering if her cheeks look as warm as they feel. “Cherri and I don’t mind things like this. I can handle a little peck.”
They try to keep their expression straight. They try to keep the fondness out of their voice, failing spectacularly.
They love Cherri, and miss her more than anything. But they can’t say they haven't grown to adore the men who’ve made such a point to involve them. To welcome them. To keep them sane during this tragedy they’ve stumbled into.
Martyn most. They admit to themself alone they wouldn’t mind a little kiss to warm them up.
Just a little.
Em seems to take this as all the permission he needs, whooping excitedly before leaning over the table. She leans in close, resting her chin in her palm for a moment.
At the last second she redirects, turning her head as Em’s lips make contact with her cheek. He hardly seems deterred, making a big exaggerated “mwa!” sounds as he leans back away.
Her face is warm. She’s never been so grateful to be flustered. To feel alive again.
She can’t stop her grin, doesn’t even try as she leans back into her seat. Watching as Martyn and Renhardt fondly laugh at the author’s antics. Apo laughs too, light and wonderfully restless with the evening’s buzz.
Apo finds herself smiling and rolling her eyes as Em leans around the table, whining about not even getting a kiss. He cajoles Martyn and Renhardt into making up for Apo’s trickery.
They both acquiesce, though Renhardt with more hesitation. Pressing his lips chaste to Em’s, before Martyn all but jumps the man with a laugh.
Apo can’t help herself from loudly laughing at their antics. Nor how the moment they pull away, Em is waving the mistletoe over the table, pulling at Martyn and beckoning him to Renhardt goadingly.
Martyn flusters more than he had with Em, still leaning over and tilting his head. Renhardt sighs, fond as he leans across, smoothing Martyn’s bangs back with a hand before pressing his lips to Martyn’s hairline.
It’s sweet. Entirely too much for Apo who makes a point of gagging in the face of Martyn’s horrible blush.
“You look like a cherry, rich boy,” Apo teases loudly. Martyn looks up at her, half pouting as starts to try and defend himself.
It only makes him look more flushed.
Em is behind Martyn in an instant as he leans towards Apo. Em pushes him slightly and waves the stupid sprig over them.
“This isn’t even a Solstice celebration,” Apo halfheartedly complains, raising a brow. “Where did you say you picked this up from?”
“I didn’t!” Em laughs brightly. “But the Solstice is about hope! Staying warm on the coldest, darkest day of the year and looking forward!” he winks, waving the mistletoe around once more. “Whats better for high spirits and warming up than a little smooch!”
“He’s got us there,” Martyn huffs, more flustered than he’s allowing himself to show. Apo feels far too much the same, sizing Martyn up in return. Warmed and mischievous, Apo can’t help but think tonight is good.
“You and Cherri would get along,” Apo grins, leaning in before Martyn can process, and connecting their lips.
It’s warm. It’s chaste. It’s sweet.
Apo leans back, Martyn stumbling in his seat slightly from where he leans, as if to follow her. They laugh, watching him fluster before joining them with huffs and rolled eyes.
“Only one pair to go!” Em insists on looking at Renhardt pointedly. Apo sighs, leaning towards the man with a contented acceptance on their face.
His fingers brush their chin as their head is tilted, kissing them on the cheek softly before leaning back.
Em hollers excitedly, Martyn whistling annoyingly. It’s silly, it’s downright stupid really. But he likes it. She likes them. She likes being here.
They’re all a little drunk. All a little warm. Laughter and flirtation warm the room in equal measure, and Apo feels, miraculously, as if maybe things will be okay.
She can’t wait to leave here, she won’t deny that. But she’s starting to want to leave with them rather than by any means necessary. She wants to introduce them to Cherri, accepting the barrage of teasing she’ll suffer for it.
They’d all get on like a house on fire. Apo is sure of it.
It’s what Apo writes about. When the night meanders from drunken laughter to sleepily hauling folks back to their homes. She finds herself sitting on her bed, writing another letter to her love.
She tells her about the day. About how she spent the Solstice. About Martyn pulling her from her paranoia, her grief. Ren's assurance she’ll be home to Cherri soon. Even Em’s whimsical cheer.
Apo writes about the meal, and the stories shared, and the mistletoe.
She promises next year Cherri will experience it all too. She’ll be home. She’ll make it up to her in every way she can. With a whole crew of folks to introduce her too.
Next year they’ll have the warmest, most wonderful celebration together. All of them. She’ll make sure of it.
Next year, Apo is going to have a Solstice as wonderful as this.