andmarigolds-blog

[andmarigolds-blog]

touchtheflames‌:

Marigold’s panicked reaction caused Ember’s face to split into a wider grin. “Lingerie!” She confirmed, nodding enthusiastically. In fact, one of the smaller suitcases Ember had brought was stuffed to the brim with lingerie she’d bought for Marigold. However, she’d already made the decision to not show them to Marigold until the fey had a few drinks in her. “If I said that, I’d be lying Marigold and we both know that’s impossible.” Grinning toothily at her, she took a few steps forward. 

“I won’t make you try them on for me because one, I already know you’re going to look hot as fuck in them and two, I’ll save you the embarrassment until we’re both good and plastered later.” She paused. “Then, I might ask but you know drunk Ember, if she does that, just throw a shoe at her or distract her with wine.” 

She threw herself onto the nearby couch, bouncing slightly on the cushions before settling in them. “Now, the sky is the limit tonight, Mar. Whatever you want, wherever you wanna go, I’ll make it happen. It’s your night.” Please enjoy yourself - you deserve it. “We can dance, drink, shop, eat, whatever your heart desires.”

Marigold immediately fell apart into laughter, ripping giggles half-spurred by hysteria. This was not happening. With absolutely no preparation or wish of her own, she was abruptly a married woman, and her best friend had brought her lingerie. As if this was a totally normal thing to do for a woman who had never slept with, nor considered sleeping with, her new husband. Marigold had no reservations about wearing lingerie--but she was certain that Ember would be the first and last person to see her in it.

“That’s a relief!” At least she wouldn’t have to try anything on until she was drunk enough to think trying on lingerie was a good idea. Ember was enjoying this, she imagined, more than Marigold herself was. “Can we drink and then go shopping? A, because I need a drink, and B, because now I have a famous model for a sister-in-law and Forest promised to introduce me to her long before the wedding thing was ever an issue.” Her stomach fluttered at both parts of that statement: meeting Nadia Ives and being married to Forest. Would her life ever make sense?

[andmarigolds-blog]

forcstfire‌:

“Mainly because I thought it was cool,” Forest chuckled, a smile touching his lips. “I thought the whole running-into-fires-saving-people thing sounded fun…and learning about how fire worked seemed interesting.” It had been something he hadn’t thought too deeply about. It had just come to him one day, the desire to challenge his luck, to fight fires and save people. The adrenaline that it brought, the pumping of blood through his veins - it was intoxicating. It always had been. It was like a free high without the drugs.

“It was really interesting, actually…learning about how fires work, how it behaves, how to best investigate and react and stay safe.” His smile falters the slightest bit. He missed all that - doing things because he liked doing it, getting the adrenaline pumping through his veins from joy rather than fear. How long had it been since he’d even had that feeling? “I think I was probably more fun back then.” 

She toyed with her food, distracted by seeing Forest smile genuinely for once. She’d coaxed a few genuine smiles out of him lately--at Luna Park, at Lugnasad, now here--and it made her miss (in a distant sort of way) how easily he’d smiled before his Fidchell. Forest had always been serious, by her estimation, but he’d grown increasingly somber over the years.

“Why did you stop?” Mari asked quietly, sure she was pressing too hard on the vulnerable edges of his story. “Why give it up to be fey?”

She was supposed to believe the implicit understanding that everyone wanted to be fey. Every human on earth would give their life to become fey, Seelie or Unseelie alike. But Marigold was too disillusioned to really subscribe to that. Especially Forest, who seemed so unhappy being fey.

[andmarigolds-blog]

jasminefairbank‌:

Jasmine didn’t often waste time on the Internet, or at least she tried not to. This evening, however, she’d been looking up aquarium fish and gotten sucked into a forum discussion on the care and keeping of cichlids. She hadn’t kept fish in several years, and had been toying with the idea of starting up again. Oscar fish were beautiful, but the requisite tank size would be a challenge in her apartment. People also swore they were intelligent, which had always intrigued Jasmine. What does it mean for a fish to be smart? 

These and, and other questions of dubious importance, could wait. Jasmine nearly flew out of her seat at Mari’s knock, not having seen much of her sister since the surprise handfasting. Right after Lughnasad, she’d been told, Ember had spirited Marigold away to who-knows-where for an impromptu bachelorette party. Jasmine had grown up assuming she’d be the one to make these arrangements when Mari got married, and had felt a twinge of jealousy. But nobody could have planned for any of this, least of all Marigold herself–which was why Jasmine was so anxious to sit down and talk with her. 

She poked her head out of her bedroom door, smiling. “Hey!” Jasmine pulled Marigold into a hug, then scanned her face for signs of trouble or good news. “How’s everything? How’s…how’s Forest?” 

For once, Marigold was too wrapped up in her own situation to do more than give a cursory glance toward Jasmine’s neck. The issues with the glamours had been a subject of conversation way too much lately--she wanted to talk to her sister without worrying about her. She figured Jasmine would appreciate that, too.

Jasmine was a breath of fresh air after spending a few days with Ember in another country, too. Ember might be her dearest friend, but when Marigold was overwhelmed, her best friend tended to exacerbate the issue. Barcelona had not been as relaxing as she’d hoped. The idea of a bachelorette party--she’d thought it was going to be time away from thinking about a surprise wedding, not making a farce of it. At least Jasmine’s query was genuine.

Mari made a bit of a face nonetheless, showing her embarrassment. “I...don’t know. I haven’t talked to him yet.” 

[andmarigolds-blog]

camelliafairchild‌:

“I do not understand judgement against demifey at all.” For anyone else, there would have been a bite in their tone of voice - but Camellia understood that for her, that would be lacking. “Demifey are still very much fey. I believe in supporting all fey.” She gave a small shrug, taking another sip of her drink. Perhaps this wasn’t all Marigold could have said - or even would have said, had she been talking with a Seelie, or with anybody but Camellia, but it was something, and in some ways, more than she would have thought she’d have gotten, so that was a plus.

“I would not personally consider it brave. It simple is what has to be.” Another shrug, coupled with a slight bite of her lower lip. She didn’t want to be considered brave - even if, in some ways, she was. But it was all due to the circumstances of her Court - should they have not been as critical of her, she might not have behaved in such a way as she did, now.

“But enough about that,” she cleared her throat, held her cup tightly as she tapped her fingers against it the outside. “Have you been enjoying the season? Is it your favorite? I am always a bit curious about that, if I am to be honest.” If your Court’s season matches up to your own favorite.

Marigold knew, on the surface, that Camellia couldn’t lie to her. No fey could lie, really, but Marigold knew as well as anyone that fey found ways around that rule. Camellia could know something she didn’t, something that allowed her to say these things without truly believing them.

But Mari wanted to believe Camellia. She wanted to believe that the heiress to the Unseelie throne was more lenient, kinder than her predecessor--kinder than her rival. Had Adare’s other daughters been as kind as Camellia? Would they have been good rulers?

She murmured a pleasant, “thank you,” as the food arrived, grateful for a moment of peace. And grateful for a change of conversation. “The season? Summer?” Marigold laughed. “No, I can’t enjoy it. It’s so hot and stuffy. I prefer winter, honestly.”

[andmarigolds-blog]

text to @andmarigolds

Sorrel: hey princess. sry ive been awol. can i take u out for dinner this week?

Sorrel: or wont the husband let u? ;)

Marigold: I'll ask him on my way to put on my stockings and stock up on smelling salts

Marigold: oh wait, it's not the 1950s anymore, my mistake

[andmarigolds-blog]

jasminefairbank‌:

Something was wrong.

Everything was already wrong, except for Mari. Mari had grounded her. But now Jasmine could feel her sister drifting away, as if she were being hypnotized. The pull of the glowing stones was more powerful than she had realized.

Jasmine managed to turn them both around, to get between Marigold and the rocks. She still felt aching and empty, but she forced the words out, trying to maintain eye contact. “They want to be touched. Malachite…he told me that. But it’s a trick. They give you a high and then…it feels like I’m leaking out of myself. Like something was torn out of me and there’s a big ragged hole. Please. Please, Mari, let’s just go.” 

If anything could stop Marigold from following the strongest urge she could recall ever feeling, it was the knowledge of her sister’s pain. The empathy she felt towards Jasmine tugged her out of the soft white magnetic influence of the rocks. Even though she felt like, if she just reached out and touched them, everything would go away, everything would be fine, Marigold couldn’t do it if it meant causing Jasmine distress.

“Okay.” It was hard to say it, to agree with her sister. How could Jasmine say the rocks were wrong? A part of her, something dulled by the desire to touch them, recognized that Jasmine had already done so, and they had done something to her. Hurt her. Torn her. “Are you okay? Let me...call a car. If something is going on...” she shook her head, as if clearing it from a fog, frowning vaguely. “We need to get home fast.”

[andmarigolds-blog]

forcstfire‌:

On the plus side, they had some time to figure it all out. It settled some of Forest’s nerves knowing that they didn’t have to make an immediate decision on what they wanted to do with the rest of their lives. Sure, divorce was always an option, but marriage was supposed to be a lifelong commitment. And their lives were even longer than usual. 

A soft chuckle rolled off his tongue at her statement, shoulders lifting in a small shrug, “It seems cliché, but you wouldn’t be wrong.” Forest had only heard whispers of conversation about Marian and what had happened to her, Adare’s once lover and the mother of Jasmine and Marigold. He never really expected Marigold to talk of her; who wanted to dwell on a dead parent? Forest himself hadn’t talked about his father to…well, a vast majority of the fey, really. He believed most thought his wish to become fey had been his intention all along, that his motivations for everything had been to become part of the Seelie. It was a pity, really, because that couldn’t be further from the truth - but he also didn’t care much what the Seelie thought of him. 

“I don’t know…what’s something you don’t know about me…” He repeated. There was a lot she didn’t know about him - and a lot he still wasn’t sure he wanted to share. “My mom works in fashion, my sister’s a model,” they were words spoken fondly because he was proud of what his family had accomplished, even if his bonds with them were broken at best. “My dad worked in construction. I studied fire science at CUNY John Jay.” 

I know, she considered saying, I’ve been following your sister’s career since she was just starting out. But that would be talking about his sister, and that topic seemed to upset him, and she was trying not to upset him. Plus, it had an edge of stalker about it, although at the time Marigold didn’t know she’d end up being Nadia’s accidental sister-in-law. Nadia Ives was just a local model whose look Mari liked.

She had to pick something else to talk about. Family seemed...difficult, at best, which she understood. Marigold chose another track. “Fire science sounds like...mad scientist.” She wiggled her fingers to indicate some bizarre alchemy. “Why did you choose it?”

It occurred to her that this was the same as any getting-to-know-you portion of every proper date she’d ever been on. Except they’d been friends for years and married for several days now. Her life didn’t stop getting weird, did it?

[andmarigolds-blog]

forcstfire‌:

A part of him wanted to let it be simple, to let it be as easy as a yes or a no question. They were married now, did you want to stay married or not? But it wasn’t simple. He liked what he had with Marigold, a confidant of sorts, a friend, someone he was close to and felt like he could trust. Maybe she didn’t understand all the intricacies of his life when it came to what he’d once had in the human world and what was surrounding him now, but in a similar way he knew very little about what she’d been through, too. Maybe she didn’t fully grasp how ridiculous this all was because she’d grown up into it, accepting it as part of a normal tradition. Was the decision an easy yes or no for her? Was she putting it on him because she already knew what she wanted?

He turned towards her as she grabbed onto his hand, expelling a breath to try and alleviate the tension growing within him. Did she really think this was crazy? Granted, humans around the world celebrated Christmas where they talked about a guy with a white beard and a red suit who climbed down your chimney to deposit gifts beneath a tree in the middle of the night - and no one batted an eye. To the fey, this was normal. People got married. People got divorced amicably. It was tradition. 

But the whole concept was still freaking him out. This wasn’t something he needed right now. He hadn’t even been thinking about dating, let alone marriage and everything that came with that. He was still trying to figure out everything else - how to live in this world, how to help the players in Fidchell, how to move on from the loss of so many every year. Serious romances? It hadn’t been on his mind for a while now. It was too much commitment, too much pressure. Could he even be a good husband do Marigold? Did she even really want someone like him? Really? 

Slowly he sat back down on the edge of the couch, letting her sooth him with the grip of her hand in his, or try to, anyway. But he was all sharp edges and broken pieces, she didn’t deserve more of that in her life. She deserved someone who could focus all of their attention on her, who could give her everything she wanted and more. It seemed the Seelie had never been able to provide that for her, how in the world could he? 

“No -” he said quickly as she offered to leave, a sheepish smile crossing his lips and his face flushing for a second at the suddenness of his words. He’d spent the last week brewing over this on his own, he doubted another night of it would be any good for his sanity. “I just - you said we have a year to…decide, I guess, right? We don’t…we don’t have to figure it all out right now…” He gave a bit of a chuckle, shaking his head and pulling his hand from hers to rubdown his face, “I doubt sitting here on my own will be any good for me, really. Why don’t we just…talk. I dunno. What’s your favorite color? Tell me something about you I don’t know.”

At least he didn’t want her to leave. That was good, right? Marigold’s concerns were no longer on the wedding--that, all things considered, was the easiest part of this to fix. Their relationship, or friendship, or whatever it was, was a more delicate thing to salvage.

Mari recovered her food, relaxed enough now that she trusted herself not to spill it. A few pieces of chicken, then picking through again for cashews. He wanted to learn more about her, well--she had plenty of life he knew nothing about. And vice versa, she imagined. After all, she hadn’t known his sister was Nadia Ives until recently. “Purple,” she answered with ease. “Would it be cliché if I guessed yours was green?”

She’d never asked him why he’d chosen his name, if he missed being his old self. It was hard to talk about herself when called upon; what reason did she have to ask him about his life, if she never bothered to talk about her own? But what reason did she have to keep hiding now? “My mother went to Fordham,” she told him, smiling a little bit at the memory Adare had manufactured for her, a clear image of Marian Harris. “I wanted to go for a little while. But I couldn’t decide what to study.” That, and the fear of being recognized as Marian’s daughter--after the murder--was too much for her to deal with. “Your turn.”

[andmarigolds-blog]

forcstfire‌:

“My parents are human,” Forest pointed out, the words slipping from his lips before he could stop them. “I’m just as much - if not more - on the outskirts of the Seelie, Marigold. I’m not one of them, I don’t really even want to be. Saying that your mother is human and that you’re not really Seelie or whatever - that doesn’t mean anything to me. That doesn’t make a difference to me. It doesn’t matter. Or, it doesn’t to me. Clearly it does to you.” The history of the demifey and Marigold’s situation was mostly lost on him and, frankly, didn’t matter. It didn’t make a difference on where they stood today, did it? It was still just the two of them making this decision, regardless of the rest of it.

He slid his own container of food onto the table as well, not really having much of an appetite anymore, and got to his feet. He couldn’t just sit still in this conversation. The more he sat there the more convoluted and confusing it all seemed to be getting. 

“You’re my friend, Marigold, of course I like you. But you realize this is fucking insane, right? People don’t just randomly get married. That’s not how this works. You don’t just pair people up and call it good.” Or really, she didn’t realize this was fucking insane. This was normal for her. It was just another walk in the park for fey, awkward smiles and chuckles as they discuss the ceremony and bury their fucking rope bands on distance mountains because naturally, that made sense! 

“I don’t know what to think, okay? None of it makes sense to me. I don’t – I don’t know how I feel or how I’m supposed to feel or what I’m supposed to be doing.” Swallowing down the idea that there was magic and that there was a way for him to possibly save his father - that had been a big enough thing for him to come to terms with. He thought he was past all these huge revelations and shifts in his life. But yet another had to come along…

“This doesn’t seem like something you just decide in a day.” 

There it was. Emotion. Confusion. Actual reaction, not the quiet lack-thereof he’d exhibited so far. Marigold knew how to handle this.

That didn’t mean she wasn’t frustrated, too. She’d be lying if she said she was fine with all of this. Now that he called it out--it didn’t make as much sense as she wanted it to. She may have grown up idealizing Lugnasad, imagining every couple as truly in love even if just for a night. Maybe the Seelie had made a mistake with her and Forest. At least with his outburst, she was starting to get somewhere.

She laughed, despite the tension in her shoulders, despite how it stung to hear him call her friend. “Yeah. It’s insane. All of it is, alright? Forest--” Mari grabbed his arm as it flailed past, trying to settle him. “Please sit down. I’m making a mess of this.” She never talked about her mother. How could she explain anything about her family properly if she never talked about it? Of course, he didn’t know any of this. She assumed he knew, she always assumed fey knew, and he didn’t. Of course. That was why she liked him.

“The Seelie think of me differently than they do of you. Don’t ask me why it’s different to them, because it’s stupid.” Mari squeezed his hand, trying to keep her voice a normal volume despite her frustration, not wanting to alert any neighbors to the distress occurring in this room. She wasn’t frustrated at him, and she was good at reining this kind of emotion in.

“It doesn’t matter to me where any of us come from.” Dangerously Unseelie, that statement, but she didn’t care right now. “My entire life has been the fey making stupid decisions and me suffering for them. I’m sorry you’re caught up in this, and I don’t know how to deal with any of it, either.” She’d tried, and it had upset him more, pushed him away and shut him down. She should have seen it coming. “Do you want me to leave?”

[andmarigolds-blog]

justtoliveoneday:

              ▒   ❝  i love my S I S T E R  more than                                                                         anything in this LIFE                         i will choose H E R happiness                                                                         over MINE every time ! ❞ █ ▌

[andmarigolds-blog]

forcstfire‌:

These waters weren’t ones he knew how to navigate. He’d learned how to fight fires, to race mountain bikes down dangerous slopes, to fight, to bleed, to kill. But when it came to feeling real emotions and express them, he was far out of practice. Over the past few years he’d learned it was far easier to raise up walls and keep everything to himself, to play the part he was supposed to play in this crazy world that had replaced his reality. Because when he let himself feel, really feel, it meant he would feel everything - the loss of his father, the estrangement of his family, the blood on his hands, the death of countless friends…and he couldn’t feel all that, even if it meant letting in a little good. Feeling it would break him.

But Marigold had been there for him, too, even if the relationship had only pounded against his walls for years. She was a small light in his deepening darkness, someone who had helped keep him afloat when the weight was becoming too much. As much as he hated the fey for things because it was easier to blame them than it was himself for his mistakes, he had also met several people who were important fixtures in his life now. People who he maybe owed it to, just a little. 

A real couple. Forest poked at the meal in front of him, chewing thoughtfully as Marigold delved into the details - naturally rambling on about how it didn’t make sense that they would be picked together, improbable, even, because of the whole ‘demifey’ thing. He didn’t really understand the demifey thing, but he wasn’t about to bring that up right now. Was Marigold saying that she thought this was all some sort of practical joke? Because why else could the Seelie put them together, ‘it didn’t make sense’. Not like Gale and Gorta - which, even if the two seemed fine from what Forest could remember, he still didn’t feel like they made sense…but that was probably just because this whole ordeal made no sense in general. Two people didn’t just get married off. But somehow to her Gale and Gorta made sense but she and he…didn’t.

“Right,” he hummed after a moment, shifting his eyes towards her once more with a sheepish, incomplete smile as she caught herself spiraling. He had a feeling she wanted him to say something, but he didn’t know what she wanted from him. She’d said it was symbolic. She’d said they could just wash their hands of it, cut the ties, move on, pretend it didn’t happen. From the way she spoke about it it was feeling like that was what she wanted, but at the same time she was all smiles and nerves. Maybe this was just what it was, if you weren’t a couple you just said ‘yay we’re married now lets get divorced.’ Maybe she was leading him to that answer, that expectation, without saying it outright to try and spare his feelings. Honestly - he just didn’t really know.

You know, like he was supposed to know these things - like he was supposed to know how the fey worked, how the whole system was constructed, how the holiday and ceremony and everything functioned. But he didn’t. He didn’t know. He didn’t know anything about the demifey or what that really meant to the Seelie, or what happened long before he’d been born. He didn’t know what it was like to harbor these kinds of stipulations and rules over hundreds of years. He’d been alive only just over 30, had barely begun to understand how humanity truly worked before all this. He didn’t know. 

It was easier just to be indifferent. To let it roll off his shoulders. To not let it cut into him, expose him. To pretend it wasn’t all dragging him down under the surface.

“I don’t really know what to say, Mari. If it’s just a symbolic thing then I guess that’s it, right?” 

At least he hadn’t complained about his meal yet. So this place made decent enough tso’s chicken--or he was distracted enough by her rambling to not be bothered by it. And he certainly looked distracted. Marigold watched him, watched him close off, watched the look on his face become familiar. She was surprised at herself. The countless nights spent drinking with Forest had, at least, taught her how to recognize when he was covering his emotions. And if she could read him--he could probably read her.

She vacillated between assuming that Forest understood the fey culture and trying to piece together the parts he didn’t. Mari had never been friends with a human-turned-halfling before, and she wasn’t great at filling in the gaps. If it weren’t Forest--maybe she would accept their cultural differences and move along. Push for the divorce, endure the change in their friendship, drink alone for a while before they got back to normal.

But they’d kissed. And they’d both felt the something, whatever it was. And it had sparked back that warmth that she’d felt years ago, being around him, the one she’d talked through with Jasmine and determined was a really bad idea. Because Kevin was a Player, and Players died.

(Marigold remembered watching his Fidchell. Gripping her sister’s hand. Fear was a real thing, and she’d managed to drink those thoughts away within a few weeks of him winning, so that when she finally congratulated him on his win, she didn’t burst into tears or do something else stupid. She hated remembering that now, and it made her grip her chopsticks a little tighter.)

To avoid dropping anything else, Mari set her food down on the coffee table. She had to focus on her words, on sticking with her determination to stay sincere and not let this roll off her without consequence. Because there were consequences already--and she couldn’t guarantee she’d be able to go back to a “normal” friendship with Forest after Lugnasad, even if they pretended it was all fine and went through with the divorce.

“I wish that were it. I just--I don’t know how to do this. Because no matter what I think, we were chosen for this, and I--I spent most of my life knowing that, because my mother is human, the Seelie won’t see me as one of them. But this makes me feel different and you make me feel different, and I know that I like you but I don’t know if...I can agree to staying married or getting divorced without knowing what you think. Actually think.” Getting all those words out of her mouth without acting on her impulse to run out of the room was torture.

[andmarigolds-blog]

briellemccaffrey‌:

She was all too aware of her own excitement. Anticipation clung to Brielle’s skin like sunburn, offering her warmth without the guarantee of pain to come - only the potential to be better than she was. Still, it was important to keep her composure despite Marigold’s returned smile. Bri wondered for a moment whether it was more courteous than sincere before she let the thought flicker away into dust, knowing better than to psych herself out before she’d even begun.

It should have been no surprise that she’d come here seeking Slane. As ever, the reminder that she was so close but so far from that level of knowledge to the cause she’d dedicated her life to stung, but that didn’t dull the light in Bri’s eyes. She’d never been so relieved to realise Slane wasn’t around.

“Oh, Slane? You just missed him, actually,” she began, ignoring the way her heartbeat had seemed to climb to the bottom of her throat in a mere few seconds. “I could let him know you stopped by? Or - you’re welcome to stay and wait. I don’t think he’ll be long.” He never seenmed to stray far for too long, though what he did during that time, Brielle had a frustratingly small part of. “If you’re not busy, that is. I wouldn’t wanna keep you from anything.”

The girl stared at her in a way that made Marigold feel like she was on a stage, being admired and investigated, a brightness in her eyes that was similar to something she’d seen before. Ah--Slane. The way Slane had looked at her after she’d shown herself to be fey. Well, she hadn’t expected him to tell his entire staff. Mari had assumed the man understood subtlety. Looking at this place, though, she thought maybe she had been wrong in her judgment of that. Maynooth didn’t really fit the persona of a subtle fey-worshiper.

People still worshiped the fey, she knew. Fairy folk. Left offerings and bits of things for them, sometimes exchanged children. Like the Kavanaghs. Hazel would understand. Marigold made a mental note to ask her about it, later.

“No, that’s okay,” Marigold answered. She kept her expression pleasant, her voice light. “I’m sure I’ll catch him again later. Have you gotten anything new in over the last few weeks?” There was no harm in picking this girl’s brain. She was supposed to be investigating, after all.

[andmarigolds-blog]

forcstfire‌:

Didn’t weddings usually require some sort of paperwork, some kind of legal document, a signature, an agreement? Or, maybe that wasn’t what Marigold meant. It wasn’t ‘legal’ in the sense that the state of New York now recognized them as married, that they were legally viewed as married to the United States - or whatever. But to the fey, it was legal. It was ‘fey-legal’, as Marigold put it. Forest didn’t quite know what that meant. If the fey had their own rules about all this, did they also have their own rules about what marriage actually meant? 

And he was starting to think maybe he was getting a hold of things a little bit. 

Marigold seemed nervous. He could tell in the way she had a hard time being quiet, in the way she kept shifting in her seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs, spilling her food all over. It was actually kind of cute. He bit his lip, holding back a smile as she struggled to try and clean things up. “It’s definitely something,” he laughed. 

He couldn’t really tell if her pushing the ‘divorce’ concept was her way of saying that was what she wanted in a roundabout manner, or if she was just trying to give him an out. Either way it was hard to read. “So it’s…a little backwards.”

Marigold had grown up in the fey--the human world had been, for so long, just a distant alternative to her reality, not a real thing she had to pay active attention to. Being fey was her life, even if she only half-fit in, even if her Court tried to push her over the fence she and her sister constantly straddled. It was where her heart was bound. Where her mother had wanted her to be, the reason for her fey-inspired name. Her middle name was like a whispered secret of a life long past. A Lugnasad wedding, for Marigold, was both symbolic and binding. Symbolic because it was not the choice of the couple to be married in such a way--well, sometimes it was, and known couples were often chosen as Lugnasad participants--and yet very, very serious. The fey had, for some reason, chosen to push her and Forest together.

She had finished scooping the spilled food out of the crevices of the couch and caught the half-smile Forest was giving her. The flush, again, crept up, and she was grateful--not for the first time in her life--that her dark skin made it harder to detect. She really wished she’d had the presence of mind to down an 18 before coming here. It was hard to tell if her nerves were natural or the result of some sort of withdrawal period--she had been leaning on the elixirs heavily since Lugnasad, and her calm during the event itself was absolutely the result of the elixirs she’d taken.

Now, faced with the literal face of the man she was quickly losing her ability to stay in denial about, a woven ring on her finger that didn’t match any of her outfits and signaled her out as a Lugnasad newlywed, Marigold was at a loss. She didn’t know how to be honest, vulnerable, comfortable speaking her mind. She knew, though, that those things were what Forest would need from her, if she were to get through this conversation without offending him. Pushing for divorce just seemed to confuse him, which was not the reaction she’d been expecting--if he wanted out of this, he should have jumped at the first mention of it. But Forest, Kevin, was not fey. He hadn’t grown up with this. And he was watching her like he was waiting for her to say or do...something. The look in his eyes that she couldn’t read but wanted to.

“Usually the Courts pick a real couple.” Usually. Some couples intentionally projected their relationships and petitioned friends to vote for them for Lugnasad. It was, after all, easier than planning something separately. “I assume the Unseelie were trying to figure out their issues with Gale and the Queen, given that she just announced that he’s Camellia’s father but she won’t marry him, and Gorta is popular, I’ve heard, so...” Marigold shrugged and picked at her food, trying to find more cashews under all the chicken. “That makes sense. I don’t...really understand why the Seelie picked us.” They were friends, but they had been for years. Wouldn’t it have made more sense to pair Forest with...anyone else, really? Or maybe choose the king and the mother of his new prince? “I mean, yes, we’re friends, obviously, but even if we were, you know, together, I’m not exactly the Seelie’s favorite thing--demifey aren’t even supposed to be here, you know, my father banished them all before Jasmine and I were born. So why--” she caught sight of his expression again and fell silent, an apologetic smile tugging at the edges of her lips. “I’m talking too much again.”

[andmarigolds-blog]

forcstfire‌:

“Legally binding -” he repeated, an attempt to clarify what she was saying, though she continued on talking over him. But she’d said it was just symbolic when they were up there during the holiday, she’s said to go with it…But legally binding and symbolic felt like they were at odds with one another. Regardless he tried to keep focused on the words she was rambling off without much pause, even as she pushed food in his direction. Food she just so happened to remember he liked, his favorite, actually, the general tsos chicken. He should say something. He opened his mouth to do so but before he could get a word in she was going off again, continuing on her apparent well rehearsed speech.

It was probably easier to just let her finish because interrupting didn’t really seem to be a viable option. So instead he busied himself with opening up the container she’d passed him, rolling a set of chopsticks between his palms slowly. 

“I’m uh – are you done?” He asked after a break in her ramble, seeming like she’d run out of things that she’d memorized to talk about as she looked over in his direction. It wasn’t in a mean or rude way, not intentionally anyway, it just seemed like she was on a roll…

They could just get a divorce and be done with it, wash their hands of it and pretend everything would go back to normal. Forest somehow felt like they wouldn’t be able to go back, though - not really. Not back to being close friends, anyway. There would always be that question of ‘what if’ lingering between them. What if they’d tried to work it out? What if it made sense? What if they could’ve had more? Of course, none of that meant staying in a marriage neither of them had planned to be in in the first place would actually work out…but was there harm in…letting it ride? Sure, it was out of order and frankly a little crazy…but…

Just as much as he hadn’t been planning to be a married man any time soon, he didn’t exactly like the idea of being a divorced one, either. Even if it seemed somewhat ‘false’ in nature. Besides, she said they had a year to figure it out…

“I’m just uh…I’m a little bit confused, or uh, overwhelmed? Or something…but -” he paused, clearing his throat. He’d been avoiding her eye, not entirely consciously. “I mean we don’t…we don’t have to make any decisions about it so quickly…” 

She opened her mouth to apologize for talking so much, but realized that it would be doing the opposite of what she was trying to do, and put a forkful of chicken in her mouth instead. She talked when she was nervous, and she was incredibly nervous. It was just talking to her now-husband who she’d never even dated. But really wanted to kiss (again). Nothing embarrassing about that.

Forest seemed to only have a short amount to say, or at least was taking a long pause while gathering his thoughts. Mari tried to wait--chewed, swallowed, prepared another bite. But Forest wasn’t making eye contact and wasn’t looking prepared to say anything more, so she went for it again. “Um, I mean, I think it is. It’s...fey-binding, at least. Legal enough.” Marigold cringed a bit. She felt...guilty, for some reason. Even though this wasn’t her fault.

She crossed her legs, uncrossed them, and took another bite, chewing a bit too fast and swallowing too early. The food stuck in her throat and she made a face, recrossing her legs, folding them under her on the couch. Marigold sought his eyes, feeling butterflies in her stomach completely unrelated to her hunger. “I promise I won’t be--offended. If...” she tried to make a gesture for cutting a rope and spilled her rice on the couch. Third stumble tonight alone.

Marigold started giggling despite herself, setting the rice down before she could cause any damage. “I’m sorry...this is...ridiculous, right? I don’t know how to politely say it’s okay for you to want to divorce me, because we’re married now and haven’t been on a single date.” The last bit came out a little fast. She was cleaning up the rice as best she could, picking bits out of the cushions. “Sorry about...all of this.”

[andmarigolds-blog]

forcstfire‌:

A light chuckle rolled off his tongue as she stared at him with a look of confusion and shock, clearly haven’t completely forgotten about the game and wager they’d agreed on. Still though, she had won, and therefore deserved her victory prize - which, granted, was sitting in their laps already. “I mean, we could also just pretend it didn’t happen and that I won…” he returned matter-of-factly, tearing off another piece of the dessert and popping it into his mouth. 

“Dancing?” He repeated in a huff, nose scrunching slightly at the prospect. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time he was dragged out to a club or bar for dancing, Zinnia often showed up pleading with him to go out to the clubs with her, but he didn’t understand why. He doubted he was really all that fun to dance with, seeing as he wasn’t all that good at it.

His eyes slid to look in her direction out of the corner of them before he focused back on the funnel cake, tearing off another piece, “You won,” he repeated, his shoulders lifting in a bit of a shrug, “But you should know that I’m a terrible dancer…” 

She knew from experience that Forest didn’t say yes to out-of-the-box experiences. It’s funny--she wouldn’t have categorized him a risk-taker, but she knew that it couldn’t be true. He had clearly taken risks his entire life. It was why he was here, with her, now--why he was fey. How could he seem so risk-averse and yet have a life that was the result of so many risks?

Marigold would never be alive if she had not calculated every choice she’d ever made. Even dating Sorrel, that had been calculated, because of his popularity--even if the risk hadn’t come out the way she’d expected. And now, looking back, had probably been a bad decision in the first place. Still--it was the first time in her life she’d taken a risk based on her feelings for someone. Someone Forest had punched shortly after she started dating him. Maybe for the best.

She stuck her tongue out at him a little bit, shifting her position to fold one foot under her so she could face Forest a little more easily. Somehow, she still managed to keep the paper plate balanced on their knees. “Everyone was a terrible dancer in the 80s.” True. Except Jasmine. And Ember, really, but Ember was fantastic at everything. “So you’ll go with me?” She crammed another bite of the cake into her mouth.

[andmarigolds-blog]

camelliafairchild‌:

“Family is inherently complicated. Be it biological, adopted, or found in some other fashion.” She looked over at Marigold, her fingers aching to brush across the other’s - to again check how she was feeling. Because she’d gotten very good at reading people over the years, but Marigold, despite not having the training same as Camellia, was practiced (or so Camellia guessed) in hiding emotions and feelings when need be. But it could become too suspicious, especially because they were of opposite Courts, and despite wanting to show as much love to the world as possible, Camellia was not always the most outwardly affectionate, unless she knew someone.

Unless Jasper. Unless - her siren, other half. Those two received affection - or had, without any boundary, and same had her mother, and now her father. But there was a hesitancy, especially after.

So she refrained from touching Marigold’s hand again and listened to her question. “I believe that they must. If they wish to see me falter, I shall only prove to them that such news does not bother me.” Even if it did, at first. Being hidden, even when she begged, only to be offered up as a wager. But not now. Not really. “Besides, if the revelation of who my father is serves to be the most interesting form of gossip they have, I may just have to subscribe all of them to some inane human celebrity magazine.” A light giggle followed, even a suggestion as that was light, never truly meant for any harm.

“What are your thoughts?” She asked.

It wasn’t her place to share her thoughts. Was it? She felt distinctly uncomfortable telling Camellia what she thought about this whole father reveal thing. First, that she thought the entire betting-over-Fidchell thing. Second, that she was devastated that her father had placed her mother’s name as his bet, literally reducing the twins to a playing card in a game of literal life-or-death. Third, that she was disappointed that the Unseelie queen had done the same with her daughter’s father.

Marigold chose her words carefully. As she had been, this entire time, carefully choosing her words and facial expressions and gestures. “I’m glad your court isn’t as judgmental about demifey as mine is.” There. She’d admitted it. She hoped that Camellia wouldn’t take it the wrong way--Marigold had no interest in the Ordeal. She did not prefer the Unseelie court--she couldn’t. But from her perspective, it wasn’t all bad.

“And you’re brave. For dealing with all of this the way you are.”

[andmarigolds-blog]

forcstfire‌:

Okay, he didn’t know how to do this. He remembered how his parents used to act, a quick kiss whenever his mom left or returned from work, sweet smiles and stolen glances. He’d seen how a married couple was supposed to act; but that was also a couple who had been together for years, one that had an established relationship and love and children. He and Marigold weren’t that, up until a week or so ago they’d just been���friends. Just friends, nothing more than friends, never considered more than friends. Could they go back to that? Was that even possible at this point? He couldn’t exactly look at her the same way now that there was so much more surrounding them - though the more was really just the weight of it all pressing in, a sense more than anything. Something strange and unspoken.

“Right, yeah…” he nodded, feeling both hungry and not at the same time because there was anxiety brewing in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t get anxious, not really; these things didn’t really get to him, they weren’t supposed to. But then again, he’d never been married by seeming random lottery, either. 

He ruffled fingers through his hair, waving her in and closing the door behind her. Did they talk about it? Was it something you talked about casually? Oh yeah, by the way, haha, we’re married. Crazy right? Forest was perfectly happy avoiding the conversation all together if he was honest, but Marigold appeared to have other thoughts —

Clearing his throat awkwardly he tapped his fingertips against the table, other hand brushing along the back of his neck. “Well I mean…I think I’ve got the uh… the gist of it…..”

Explanations she could do. It helped keep her discomfort at bay, focusing instead on the ease of giving him an affectionate exasperated glance and preparing a little speech to deliver. Oh, she’d prepared several speeches, as a matter of fact. One for each potential version of this conversation. Telling him about their options, about the process of divorce, assuring him she wouldn’t be offended if he wanted to take that route, assuring him it was a better choice, really, than staying married to her, because of the impact her birth would make on his reputation.

It helped, perhaps, that she’d never had a real example of a married couple, or even a solid unmarried couple. She’d been too young to see her father and mother together, and she didn’t count the night she saw Adare drunk and waxing nostalgic about his dead lover. There was Willow and Cobalt, but they didn’t like her; and her foster parents, who were strict in upbringing and unwilling to make a strong emotional connection to the twins who weren’t really theirs. Marigold was raised on decorum and suspicion, constantly watching her words, her actions, her thoughts. She wasn’t raised on romance and affection, so it was easy to press those thoughts aside--for now. She’d spent most of her life ignoring the impulse to be loving and pursue relationships. In all her years, she’d never seen strong romantic emotional connections work out.

“The wedding part, right? Yeah, it’s technically legally binding, but more to the fey than the government. But--divorce is easy. We just have to cut and bury the rope on opposite hills in Tara. And we have a year to do it. Less than a year, really, given the date, but--” Aware she was rambling a bit, deviating from her script, Mari shook her head to stop herself, handing Forest a container of food. “You ordered that last time we got Chinese. Hope it’s as good at this place as it was there.” She glanced away from him, willing away the flush creeping up from the brief contact of their hands. “I won’t be upset if that’s what you want to do. It’s just a holiday ritual. It’s not...” a deep breath, steadying herself, face hopefully hidden as she ducked her head down to fetch the pair of chopsticks she did actually drop this time. “Not like we chose to get married, after all.” She forced herself to look at him with an expression as neutral as she could make it.