#rachianca

[moonlightswritingandstuff]

The Case of Rachel Elizabeth Dare

Rachel Elizabeth Dare is an enigma. Leo thinks that she's made up. Hazel and Bianca throw their lot in with her being a goddess. Nico swears it's a coincidence. And so on and so forth. No one knows who - or what - Rachel Elizabeth Dare is. And so they meet to discuss it. (It's a crackfic. Don't take this summary too seriously.)

for best results, read on ao3!

trigger warnings: the COVID-19 pandemic is referenced

[TRANSCRIPT OF THE MEETING OF JULY 6TH, 2052 (as estimated), as recorded by Grover Underwood]

ANNABETH CHASE, OWL: That exhausts our list. Are there any other concerns to be made?

LEO VALDEZ, MECH: Yes, Head Councilwoman. I bring the Case of Rachel Elizabeth Dare. I believe she is not real and never as been; you must surely be playing a prank on me!

PERCY JACKSON, SEASTAR: Rachel is real! We've all seen her! Except Leo, of course.

OWL: I agree. Rachel is real; she is also immortal.

NICO DI ANGELO, SKELETON: No, it's just a coincidence. I think you're lying about seeing her in the Hadrian period, at least.

HAZEL LEVESQUE, GEMSTONE: I saw what I saw! And it's not just a coincidence! She's got to be a god.

SHADOW: Perhaps even God Himself.

(GEMSTONE, SKELETON's sister, sputters. SKELETON is notably Catholic despite his time travelling. But who are we to judge?)

BIANCA DI ANGELO, SHADOW: She's pretty enough to be a god. I agree with Hazel.

(And there's the third member of our sibling trio. Bianca is not as religious as Nico, and prefers pissing him off, anyway.)

SKELETON, increasingly frustrated: That's only because you like to kiss her.

SHADOW: Guilty as charged, I suppose.

OWL: Wait, guys, we need a spreadsheet. Leo's under 'nonbeliever'-

MECH: Nonbeliever!?

OWL: Shut up. Percy, you're-

SEASTAR: Immortal.

OWL: Great. Me too. Nico is under coincidence, and Hazel and Bianca are under goddess.

GEMSTONE: Well, Nico's wrong. How can there be a bunch of identical people named Rachel Elizabeth Dare? In places no one should be named Rachel Elizabeth Dare, no less!

MECH: I still think you guys are lying!

SKELETON: Shut up, Leo.

MECH: Hey!

GROVER UNDERWOOD, PANCRIER (and your transcriptor): Put me down under fellow unregistered time traveller.

OWL: How can she be an unregistered time traveller? Plus, if she was, she'd stay far away from us registered time travellers?

PANCRIER: Bianca was the first to see her, right? Maybe Rachel developed a crush and decided that the rest of us were safe.

SHADOW: Come on! We're not dating or even remotely involved!

GEMSTONE, dryly: Stop lying. I walked in on you making out with her in a closet!

SKELETON: Can't believe Bianca's cheating on the Rachels with other Rachels.

GEMSTONE: They're the same person! And why are you judging me for dating a god!

MECH: so you are dating. Or is this just a cover-up for the fact that Bianca can't get a date.

GEMSTONE: Shut up!

DREW TANAKA, MIRROR: I've met her. We went shopping for makeup and dresses.

MECH: So she talks to you and not me!?

MIRROR: It's because I'm better than you.

SHADOW: Drew's right.

MECH: I hate you all. Why am I here?

OWL: You couldn't live without us.

SEASTAR: Also, I'm the only person who can surpass your sarcastic genius.

MECH, notably sarcastic: Of course. How will I ever catch up?

PANCRIER: We are part of a dignified organization. We are part of a dignified organization.

GEMSTONE, SHADOW, OWL, and SEASTAR: of course.

PANCRIER: I should quit.

SEASTAR: I'd miss you, though.

PANCRIER: Never mind. I will not quit.

MIRROR: Sap.

OWL: Shut up, Drew.

MIRROR: Why do I go to these meetings, anyway?

OWL: Because Piper quit.

MIRROR: Piper never had to handle a deadly situation in her life.

OWL: But you're... you.

SHADOW: Enough about my love life. What about Annabeth and Drew's?

OWL and MIRROR, simultaneously: No.

SEASTAR: Perhaps we should not discuss this, dear cousin of mine.

[SHADOW rolls her eyes. GEMSTONE pats her on the back.]

SKELETON: I'm going to the bathroom.

[SKELETON leaves.]

OWL: He's not coming back, is he?

MIRROR: No, of course not. I would leave, too, but you need someone with a head on their shoulders.

PANCRIER: What about me?

MIRROR: You also have a head on your shoulders. But I cannot confine you to this duty alone, hon.

PANCRIER: Sure.

[PANCRIER would like to note that he is the only sane person here.]

MECH: Anyway, back on topic, Festus tells me that he has seen Rachel, but only when I have to leave him behind. Can't believe you guys have manipulated him.

PANCRIER: We haven't. Besides, I think Rachel has powers of prophecy.

OWL: The only power people have is time travel, from experience.

PANCRIER: Yeah but consider. Also, I have my codename for a reason?

OWL: Yeah, it's because you have an extraordinary loud scream.

PANCRIER: Extraordinary is close enough to magic, isn't it?

OWL: Also, prophecy could be explained by the actual time travel.

PANCRIER: What if she's a clone? And she's cloned herself a million times? And that's why she's everywhere?

SEASTAR: Or she could have a way to track us and use it for mischief.

SHADOW: Thus supporting Hazel's and my goddess theory.

MIRROR: Yeah, I buy that.

[OWL jots that down on her table.]

MIRROR: But we should also ask everyone else. Because there's like forty of us.

OWL: Thirty-nine, actually.

MIRROR: I said 'like forty', not actually forty.

OWL: Semantics.

MECH: I still think you guys are pulling a Goncharov.

SEASTAR: Goncharov? I haven't heard of that before.

MECH: A relic of the 2020s, during the COVID-19 pandemic, you know? This blogging site that went kind of archaic - still active though, like a cockroach - found some fake movie label called Goncharov, produced by this Martin guy. Anyway, they went kind of insane.

PANCRIER: Ooh, I did an essay in high school about it.

SEASTAR: Why?

PANCRIER: You know, early internet stuff. Very interesting.

OWL: Eh, I'm more of a mid-late internet person, before the complete purge of the internet in- you know what? This isn't relevant.

[OWL is getting a little frustrated. Honestly, I don't know how she always sticks to a schedule. Also, OWL notably does not like Rachel Elizabeth Dare.]

SHADOW: We should give Rachel a codename.

GEMSTONE: Seconded.

SEASTAR: Thirded.

MECH: Fourthed.

PANCRIER: That's not a word.

MECH: Neither is pancrier, cry me a river.

SEASTAR: I, for one, propose the codename RED.

MIRROR: That's the stupidest code name I've ever heard.

SEASTAR: Have a better idea?

[MIRROR remains silent.]

GEMSTONE: What about Bianca's True Love? We can call her BTL for short.

SHADOW: First off, I object that nickname. Second off, BTL sounds way too close to BLT.

GEMSTONE: Which is your favourite sandwich.

SHADOW: And?

MIRROR: Actually, I have an idea. ORACLE, for her proposed prophecy powers. And because it sounds cool.

SEASTAR: Wouldn't that be an issue due to the Oracle not being allowed to date?

SHADOW: It will not, because no one's dating the Oracle.

MIRROR: Did that just come up in conversation? You're my best friend, Bianca, and I can't believe that you don't realize she's flirting with you.

SHADOW: She's not flirting with me. I asked, like a normal person.

GEMSTONE: Why did you ask?

OWL: Guys, we can't keep talking about SHADOW's admittedly disastrous love life. Personally, I like ORACLE.

MIRROR: Because it's a good codename.

SEASTAR: All who like ORACLE, say aye?

MIRROR, OWL, GEMSTONE, SHADOW, and PANCRIER: Aye.

SEASTAR: All who dislike ORACLE, say nay?

SEASTAR and MECH: Nay.

MIRROR: See, this is why you benefit from my genius. Ow!

[SEASTAR has kicked MIRROR's leg under the table. All laugh, except MIRROR.]

OWL, regaining her composure: Meeting adjourned. I am exhausted, and will have a cup of tea.

End transcript.

[shippy-pjo-shipper]

Opinions on Bianca x Rachel?

That's actually very funny cause I just read a bianca/Rachel fic (free promo for the writer here, it's cute). I like the ship very very much. They would be so cute. Rachel is the most supportive being there ever was and Bianca really needs support. But she's also responsible on her own and she would see Rachel's forced smile and attempts to hide her uneasiness in...life, really. They're both supportive, so great for each other, but also share similar interest in travel and wish to do more of life than what they seem destined to.

It could really really be interested, a Rachel showing Bianca around the world would be beautiful <3

Bonus points for all the Rachel/Nico interactions that come with it. That's a big argument in itself.

[softmoonlightmelody]

the rarest pair that has fics is rachianca (bianca/rachel). i know. i've written all two of them.

[moonlightswritingandstuff]

you, rainbow, and i, gray

Written for day four: colours, but could also apply to fluff!

Bianca di Angelo sees people in colours. Usually, each person is one colour. However, Rachel Elizabeth Dare seems to be every colour at once.

@them-awesome-rarepairs

read on ao3!

Bianca sorts people in colours. Nico is dark green, Hades is deep, deep maroon, and Maria is gold, beautiful gold.

They are all usually one colour.

Even after Bianca came to camp, most people she met were one colour.

Percy is a deep, deep unending blue with a tinge of purple. Annabeth is bright red-orange. Connor Stoll is yellow to his brother Travis's orange, and Katie Gardner is yellow-green, a lovely chartreuse. Thalia is a shocking orange, Grover a bright, sunny yellow.

They're all one colour.

Of course, when people die, they turn gray (Thalia's face flashes in Bianca's mind, her formerly bold orange turning into a gray and suddenly-).

Bianca is a colour too, of course, a plain but nice gray. Exactly like Pantone's neutral gray. She is nothing but plain, it seems, but Bianca is also death. Death, like the gray she is (Castor turns gray from lovely green as Bianca watches-).

But with the years come new revelations, with everyone seemingly coming in so many colours. Nico's settled into a pale yellow, Percy's become more purple as time's gone on, Annabeth's red-orange is stained by a little gray these days (it's not death yet but inching towards ever so because they're all child soldiers-).

Bianca hasn't changed. Not a bit. Because Bianca is the gray slightly off of death because Bianca is death. Bianca cannot be anything but death.

Well, people seemed to be one colour until Rachel Elizabeth Dare came along.

«»

See, Bianca first meets Rachel when Percy decided they needed one-on-one time (for no apparent reason, why did they need that?) and Bianca did nothing but acquisition because really, what could she do?

So Bianca's pretty surprised when Percy shows up with Rachel Elizabeth Dare, for two reasons.

First off, she thought this was one-on-one time of 'older cousins' club (which is really cousins-except-for-Nico club, because Bianca does not always want to be with Nico now that she can), not 'older cousins and some really pretty girl Percy is friends with' club.

Second off, Rachel is every colour ever, at the same time. Rachel is red and orange and yellow and green and blue and purple and everything in-between at the same time.

Well, Rachel isn't a neutral - isn't brown, black, beige, white, or gray. Rachel is achingly alive, in all her infinities, with every single colour. Bianca knows death, and Rachel is the opposite.

But Rachel smiles, and apologizes - something about her parents being insufferable - but Bianca isn't listening because Rachel's every single colour ever.

Her orange hair and green eyes and blue overalls and yellow undershirt and red shoes and purple hair-streaks and everything else, the paint coating her overalls in a million different shades all seem to reflect Rachel.

(She's like a blooming garden, in a way, with every single colour all over the place)

"So, yeah," Rachel concludes. "That being said, what about you?"

"Oh, I'm working on this art project-"

"You do art? Me too!"

(They end up spending that entire conversation basically ignoring Percy, much to his chagrin)

«»

"So... did you like her?"

"You couldn't tell?"

Percy relaxes. "Good. Annabeth doesn't, and I just kind of need someone who's a demigod- not to say that Grover and Tyson are anything close to bad, just-"

"I get it, idiot. Rachel's cool."

Percy smiles, but it's slightly strained, so Bianca raises an eyebrow.

"What's going on with Annabeth."

"You're not going to let me say nothing, are you?"

"Of course not."

"Well, she's just not really talking to me anymore? And it feels like we're drifting apart, which is really terrible, so..."

Bianca nods. "So. Annabeth's probably struggling with something. Just talk to her."

"I'll try that, thanks."

Bianca smiles.

"Also, Rachel has been pestering me to get your number."

"Has she now?"

"Yeah, so can I?"

Bianca shrugs. "Why not?"

«»

"Charcoals are nice," Rachel agrees. "But I prefer colour. Actually, I've been trying to help Percy with art-"

"He's completely useless!"

"Exactly! And so I was attempting to try art with him-"

"I'm so sorry."

Rachel laughs, a lovely sound coming from somewhere in her heart, all multicoloured. "Yeah. Anyway, he's actually great at watercolours and gouache, which, in hindsight, isn't much of a surprise."

"Fair enough. But you do know that means we have to force him to come along if we ever use watercolours?"

"Assuming we meet up more?"

"Naturally."

"Alright. Anyway, what's your favourite medium?"

"It's so expensive, but I like paint - and between acrylic and oil, oil is definitely better."

"I can probably get oil paint," Rachel says. "Art supplies are expensive but my dad's also a billionaire."

"Even though you hate him?"

Rachel shrugs, then frowns. "He's... terrible. I feel guilty buying anything, because everything is paid by him and his terrible practices."

Bianca nods. "Are you his... heir or something?"

Rachel shakes his head. "No. I have a cousin... it'll be his."

"Old men?"

Rachel laughs a little. "Old men."

«»

"And then, he got angry at me," Drew complains. "Like, hon, I'm the one trying to make sure your love life isn't trash. Not my fault if she doesn't like you back."

Bianca nods. Drew's colour is a comforting sweet pink, a pale, pale, pink that's pretty nonetheless.

"That being said, what's up with you?" Drew squints at Bianca. "Oh, I've got it. You're in love..."

"No, I'm not!" Bianca blushes despite herself anyways.

"Bee, my dear, you forget I can literally see love, or crushes, or infatuation, as long as it’s romantic. I know you have a crush on someone. Now, spill."

Bianca rolls her eyes. "So Percy has a mortal friend-"

"Oh, that Rachel girl? Annabeth's totally jealous."

"Huh, interesting. Yes, it's Rachel."

"So, what does she look like?"

"She has really curly red hair and green eyes - like Oracle green, I'm not even lying."

"Oracle green eyes?" Drew smiles. "You'll have to introduce me to her. But also, there's something you're not telling me."

"You know how I see people in colours, right?"

Drew nods. "And what shade is she?"

"Rachel isn't one shade. She's like... every shade but neutrals all at the same time."

"Ooh. Either you're in love-"

"Unlikely, it was from first sight, and colours don't work like that-"

"-or she's special."

"I can tell why people laud at your intelligence."

"They do the opposite, actually. I've heard multiple people talking about how dumb I am."

"Drew-"

"Enough about me."

"We're going back to that later, if you insist."

"I’m not going to get you to let it go, am I?”

“No. Drew, you’re one of the smartest people I know! They’re wrong.”

“They’re probably right. I barely scrape by As as it is.”

“Those are great grades, and besides that, who else knows exactly what someone’s strengths and weaknesses are at first glance? Who else knows exactly how to comfort people?”

Drew smiles. “I know. Anyway, tell me more about Rachel.”

“Fine.”

«»

“What do you think about mixed media?”

Bianca grins. “I love it! Watercolour and gouache and coloured pencil are all fun to use together in particular.”

Rachel’s eyes light up. “I hadn’t considered that. I usually use paint and pen, if I’m mixing media. Mixing media? Is that a thing?”

“I have absolutely no idea.”

“Then I shall use it anyway. That being said, in a monochromatic palette, what colour?”

“Blueish gray, usually. You?”

“I can never choose, you know? Sometimes I want green, or purple, but then I want some other colour. I usually end up with some random colour that’s appropriate to the scene rather than a scene appropriate to the colour.”

“That makes sense.”

The room dissolves into a comfortable silence once more, only broken by brush strokes, water dips, and gentle paint.

"I'm glad Percy introduced us," Rachel states.

"I'm glad too."

«»

"You're never around anymore," Nico states.

"Yes, I am. You're just rebellious."

Nico frowns. "What have you been doing?"

"I've just been a little busy. You know Percy's friend Rachel?"

"Yes."

"We've been talking."

Nico squints up at Bianca. "Talking."

"Yes, talking."

"Are you dating her?"

"No!"

"I don't believe you."

"We're not dating, Nico."

"You should."

"Nico!"

«»

"So, uh..." Rachel begins.

"Yeah?"

"Would you, uh, like to call this a date?"

Bianca blinks, then smiles. "Oh, oh, uh, yeah."

Rachel suddenly laughs. "We're so stupid about this."

"We are, aren't we?"

"Anyway, how do I tell Percy I'm going on a date with his cousin?”

"Let me tell him."

«»

least favourite cousin bee aunt uh: i'm going on a date with rachel purse sea: oh okay purse sea: WAIT WHAT bee aunt uh: correction i am on a date with rachel purse sea: how am i going to shovel talk rachel. or you. i need to choose. bee aunt uh: you can shovel talk us both idiot purse sea: okay good that's the plan bee aunt uh: unfortunately you’d suck at shovel talks purse sea: HEY

[moonlightswritingandstuff]

would you be so kind (just to fall in love with me?)

Bianca's moved back to New York, and not wanting to unpack her furniture and belongings, she decides to go on the roof of her building. Rachel Elizabeth Dare was not part of the equation.

read on ao3!

Bianca doesn't want to unpack the rest of her furniture. It's expensive and she paid a pretty penny to have it transported, but she's unpacked her bed and her desk and the fridge and called it quits. Nico's busy, Hazel's busy, Drew's busy, so Bianca doesn't want to do anything without company.

And she doesn't really want to go outside. But she does, all the same.

So she climbs up to the roof, and looks down at the city below.

It's odd to be back in New York. Sure, it's nice, but Bianca's not super fond of how the city has changed. It feels like that one time that Percy decided to rearrange all her furniture slightly to the left - everything is achingly familiar but a few things are somehow slightly off.

It's still as noisy as ever — as any city is, honestly — with sirens blaring and cars' engines going. People honk. It's nice that, despite everything, New York hasn't changed much.

But it's also times like this that Bianca misses Italy. Or, more accurately, Venice. It's an old ache, that's certain, and Bianca has never went back. Her mother was never fond of her family, and her loss is a bruise that Bianca can never seem to heal. Besides, Bianca barely remembers it now.

Because then Maria died, and they were in New York with their new stepmother and her daughter. Persephone and Hazel are wonderful, but it was never the same. Oh, they were family, but it wasn't the same.

That reminds Bianca, she should call Hazel soon, it's been-

"Well, I didn't expect someone to be melodramatically brooding in my usual painting spot," a voice says, cutting through Bianca's thoughts like a knife.

"Melodramatically brooding!?" Bianca snaps, whipping around to see a woman around her age, holding a wicker basket. Her overalls are decorated with paint splatters that look sort of intentional, if anything, and her green eyes are lit up in a beautiful smile.

"You heard me. Is there any other word for it?"

"I..."

"Exactly."

"Did you just come here to insult me?"

"Well, I have other things to do," she says, rolling her eyes. She comes to stand next to Bianca, setting her basket down. "I'm Rachel Elizabeth Dare."

"Bianca di Angelo."

"Cheesed to meet you."

"Excuse me, what?"

"Your shirt says nothing but 'enchantments of cheese' in white font on solid black," she says, like it's a perfectly normal thing to make a pun out of someone's shirt that you just met.

Bianca shakes her head in response to that. "Anyway, you paint?" she asks, nodding towards Rachel's basket, which is full of paint, brushes, and a few canvases.

"Yeah. The view isn't very different from my apartment, but it's louder, and I like the fresh air. Or, as fresh as it can be."

"The view isn't very different? Are you in the penthouse?" Bianca asks, but Rachel remains silent for just long enough for Bianca to realize that Rachel does, in fact, live in the penthouse.

She promptly bursts out laughing. "I can't believe you're in the penthouse. Now I can... anonymously send you gifts?"

"Like watermelon?"

"Who sends watermelon as a gift? Anonymously?"

"You look like you would. You know, like a cryptid — ding-dong-ditching your way with watermelons."

"You're a strange person."

"I get that a lot," Rachel says, winking at Bianca.

Bianca looks down at the streets, her face growing hot.

"Anyway," Rachel says, "I also like painting up here because I like the stars."

"You can't see stars in the city."

"No, but the city lights are a pale imitation, aren't they?"

Bianca shrugs. "I suppose."

"A simulacrum, if you will."

"Getting into Gnosticism?"

"Maybe more of Platonism," Rachel trades back.

"Both are decently terrible," Bianca says.

"Naturally."

"Anyway, the city lights. Have you ever seen all the stars?"

"No. I've never really been outside metropolises," Rachel admits.

"Never? I used to go camping all the time. Well, summer camp — they called it Hunters' Camp, run by this stern woman named Artemis. With a name like that, you wouldn't expect it to be all-girls, but it was."

"Yeah, I've never gone camping."

"Road trips?"

"No, actually — I took a plane everywhere. Besides, my parents didn't usually take me on vacation. Something about tiring them out."

"Oh, I see. Well, I'll have to help you change that."

"Are you asking me on a date?"

"No!" Bianca says, blushing. "Just... continued friendship."

"Oh, are we friends already? How lovely."

"You know what? I've decided to embrace this. We're friends."

"Just friends?"

"What else?"

Rachel shrugs. "You tell me."

Bianca rolls her eyes. “Sure.”

Rachel smiles, or smirks, or something between the two, and a car alarm goes off in the streets below, sound undiluted by the distance.

“I hate car alarms,” Rachel says. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone heed them.”

“You’re right, actually. I’ve always ignored them.”

“Who doesn’t?”

Bianca acknowledges that with an incline of her head. “Anyway, what do you paint?”

“I’ve been trying to emulate Ivan Aizovsky,” Rachel says. “Unfortunately, I can’t do it nearly as fast.”

Bianca shrugs. “Not many can, especially with that level of talent.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a lawyer,” Bianca says. “I tend to do cases surrounding domestic and child abuse.”

“A noble pursuit.”

Bianca blushes. “I also like composing in the side, but more emulating Romantic composers.”

“Really? That’s so cool — I don't see many people still listening to classical music."

"It's waned in popularity, that's for certain, but I still find it beautiful."

"Do you play any instruments?"

"Piano, actually - kind of a non-answer. Everyone and their mother play piano. Cello, too, though, and my best friend plays violin. I have another good friend, he plays flute."

"I can't play an instrument."

"Really? I'll have to teach you."

"Does that mean you're asking me on a date, Bianca?" Rachel smirks, looking rather delighted at this turn of events.

Bianca blushes. "I suppose."

"Well, here's my number," Rachel says. "Give me your arm."

Bianca obliges, and Rachel scrawls her phone number on Bianca's arm in pen. Drew's undoubtedly going to have questions, but Bianca thinks she can suffer through them, if she can see Rachel's smile again and again and again.

[moonlightswritingandstuff]

it's gonna hurt like hell, but we're gonna be well (i'll give you my best shot)

It's been five years since Bianca has seen Rachel is person. She just got on a plane all the way to California to see Rachel on some mysterious impulse. But Bianca's never been able to forget Rachel's smile, so maybe she can get something out of this.

read on ao3!

"Bianca?" is the first thing Rachel says when she opens the door to her wife.

"Rachel. It's been a while."

"It's been years. Why are you here?"

"I... just had to leave."

"You came across the country. And why me?"

"I don't know, okay?"

"Did you do any planning?"

"Uh, sort of. But-"

"Just stay with me," Rachel says, and rolls her eyes. "I have a spare room."

"Thanks."

"Besides, it's two am in the morning. What's that for you, five am? Just go to sleep."

"See you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow, I guess."

«»

“So. Why are you here?”

Bianca takes a sip of her coffee. It’s perfect, despite the incredible specificities that she likes. “You made my coffee perfect.”

“I’m not in the habit of disappointing guests. But onto the point. Why are you here?”

“I got tired.”

“Of what?”

“I don’t know. Everything. Being Nico and Hazel’s perfect sister. Doing everything for them.”

Choosing them over you, she doesn’t say.

“You’ve been doing it for years. What changed?”

“I don’t know," Bianca says. "Maybe it's Nico wanting children and wanting me to be the perfect aunt for them. Maybe it's that... I don't know."

Rachel nods, and there’s something different in her eyes. Softer, maybe. With an ache, Bianca realizes that’s a pale imitation of how Rachel used to look at her.

Maybe this won’t be so bad.

“You can stay here,” Rachel says. “We’re still legally married, after all.”

“Thanks.”

Rachel nods, her close-clipped and brightly painted nails drumming on the table in a manner that would’ve been so familiar to Bianca years ago but is now as distant as what five years and a million little mistakes could’ve created.

“What’re you doing now?” Bianca asks suddenly. It’s odd, but Bianca finds that she really does want to know what’s going on.

“Not much,” Rachel says. “My art’s gotten big, I guess. I get a decent amount of museums wanting to display my work in modern art galleries. I have a few pieces loaned out to the Tate Modern. My father’s company is now mine and I’ve been trying to get it to turn around and be… better. It’s not actually that hard to be eco-friendly. I’ve been using my influence to try to make it better.”

Bianca smiles.

“And you?” Rachel finishes, almost lamely, like she doesn’t know what else to say.

“Music’s still making me some money, but lawyering is still my main profession. I’ve been helping abuse victims — working with Percy.”

“How’s he doing?”

“Good. Got married, well, eloped. Didn’t want a huge wedding. Or one at all. His social work is doing well, too.”

“Oh, I never took Annabeth as someone who didn’t want a wedding.”

“He didn’t marry Annabeth.”

“Oh, really? I always thought it would be her.”

“Me, too. Up until the moment they broke up, four years ago.”

“So, who’s he married to?”

“One of Drew’s coworkers when she was doing the solo at the Phillharmonic Orchestra a few years back. Plays the cello. She’s a lot like Annabeth in some ways and a lot unlike her in others.”

“I’m glad he’s happy. What about Drew?”

“She’s the only person who knew I was leaving. She’s doing great.”

“Being called one of the best violinists in the world, hey?”

“Yeah. I’m proud. And what’s going on with you?”

Rachel sips at her tea. “Mostly what I said. Katie and Travis are living their happily-ever-after. Two kids, now.”

“That’s nice for them.”

“What’s going on with you, anyway?”

“Not much. I haven’t cheated or anything.”

Rachel snorts. “I’d hardly count dating someone now as cheating, but I suppose I haven’t ‘cheated’.”

“I suppose it isn’t. We’re separated in all but name, anyway.”

“Yeah.”

The apartment smells of lavender, and Bianca doesn’t say that she still wonders what went wrong with them. Maybe it was the distance. Maybe they weren’t, aren’t, the type of couple to make it out.

Maybe, just like her, Rachel still can’t bear the idea of divorcing each other. Even after all this time. Even after all this distance.

Bianca’s never been able to forget the way Rachel smiles, after all.

«»

Bianca’s got work — she’s never been one to not plan, and there’s, unfortunately, always someone who needs to escape a terrible situation. She starts on her new case and the paperwork piles up once more. It’s not altogether terrible, and in fact, Bianca enjoys it. She’s helping people.

Rachel’s penthouse has an excellent view of the sea, and in summer, it’s as close to idyllic as it could get.

Plenty of inspiration for Rachel’s painting.

It’s just, Bianca used to be the one Rachel would sketch and paint. She remembers coming across a sketchbook of Rachel’s full of just Bianca herself, pages made entirely of pencil and nothing else of Bianca’s profile and front in loving detail.

But Bianca remembers that she used to write music about Rachel, music in which she described Rachel’s eyes and their multitudes and everything, music in which she told Rachel she’d love her no matter what — even if they had no words, Bianca likes to think they conveyed the sense of it all.

And they both know how that ended.

But what’s done is done. No use in changing what’s already happened.

“Let’s go out,” Rachel says. “You’re in California. I thought the purpose was to leave it all behind.”

“Yes, but…”

Rachel rolls her eyes. “Still haven’t left the workaholic tendencies?”

“No. Work’s important.”

Rachel smiles. “It won’t kill you to get out once in a while. C’mon, let’s go.”

Bianca lets Rachel drag her outside, to some botanical, well-kept garden. It's an aching reminder of the dates they used to have, but slightly skewed. Rachel brings her sketchbook, just like always, and makes thumbnails of various flowers and displays – the lavender, the gladiolus, a butterfly Rachel stops to draw because she thinks its blue colour is lovely, and it is, especially detailed through Rachel’s coloured pencils.

"Do you still obsess over plants as much as you used to?" Rachel asks, a reminder of how well Rachel used to know Bianca. Plants weren't something Bianca talked to just anyone about.

"Yes."

"Tell me about them."

"Those are tiger lilies," Bianca says, pointing. "USDA hardiness zones three to nine, perennial. They symbolize, depending on who you ask, mercy, compassion, wealth, prosperity, courage, or pride. Originating in Asia, they bloom in late summer to early fall."

"And those ones?" Rachel asks, pointing to roses of all things.

"Those are roses. I'd suppose you know about them already."

"Tell me about them anyway."

"Usually perennial, can live in most conditions. Usually mean love, especially red roses, and yellow roses represent friendship. Briar roses and some hybrids can have aromatic scents."

And so they go through the botanical garden, Rachel sketches more, and Bianca tells her about the plants. It's so achingly familiar that Bianca gets déjà vu.

"Do you want to get food at some point?"

"It's nearing five," Bianca says. "Sure, why not."

They get takeout. It's good, and it reminds Bianca of what she used to have, back when she and Rachel were first married and lived in California. Lived where Bianca's now staying.

Bianca never should've left. But she'll admit it. She was never not going to leave.

It's been years since Bianca was a child, a decade and a half. She can admit things she couldn't earlier. And one of those is that Bianca regrets leaving Rachel for Nico and Hazel. Bianca has always prioritized her younger siblings over anything else, and it's not recent, the bitter taste that leaves in her mouth.

But Bianca's here now. With Rachel.

Maybe she should stop hiding. But it's Rachel. But there's Nico. And Hazel. And everything else she can’t say and can’t name.

«»

That night, Bianca gets a call from Nico.

"Drew told me that you up and left for California."

"I did. Did you just notice? It's been a few days since I left."

"We don't talk that often, Bianca."

He's lying. Bianca and Nico talk every other day. He's just not used to Bianca doing something this impulsive. He's just not used to Bianca doing something for herself. And he doesn't even realize it.

He never has, she notes, with no shortage of bitterness.

"I suppose not."

"Why did you leave?" Nico's voice is angry, but it's a little grainy through the phone, and if Bianca tries hard enough, she can pretend that it isn’t Nico saying this. That it isn’t her little brother.

"I don't know."

"And Rachel? You haven't talked in years!"

"We talked five minutes ago."

"Bianca-"

"Hold it, Nico."

She hangs up. Puts her phone aside. She can't deal with this right now.

Nico calls again. The apartment's quiet, Rachel's out for a late-night painting class she teaches. The phone rings, a fake sounding noise that reverberates across the empty apartment. Nico's contact reads 'baby brother' because it pisses Nico off and Bianca is so, so tired.

Hazel will call soon, as soon as Nico gives up getting her to listen to him. Hazel will call because Nico will tell her to. Hazel will call because she's concerned about Bianca.

Drew is too, Bianca knows. But Drew knows Bianca, better than Bianca knows herself. Drew only smiled and told Bianca to go for it when Bianca told her she was leaving.

Drew knows exactly how Bianca feels about Rachel.

Bianca could really go for a chat with her.

But on cue, the minute Nico's calls stop coming, Hazel's start.

Bianca puts her phone on silent, puts it in her bag, and continues working on her case. She's getting the case declared self-defence if she dies trying.

Bianca's good at this. She always has been. She's suffered through too much research and too much deliberation to not be.

But just as Bianca starts the get back into her work, the door opens, and Rachel comes in, singing.

It's an old song, certainly. One Bianca remembers Rachel loving.

Rachel's always had a pretty voice. Bianca's always been an alto, dipping into contralto, but Rachel has a high soprano. Bianca would be lying to say she didn't miss it all the time.

Bianca would be lying to say she didn't miss Rachel all the time.

Suddenly, Rachel's singing is brought to an abrupt stop.

"Oh, I forgot you're here," Rachel says sheepishly.

"It's fine," Bianca says. “You’re not used to me here.”

“I suppose not.”

Rachel hums, taking her hair out of the band that barely kept it together anyways.

Bianca goes back to her work, and a few minutes later, Rachel places the most perfect cup of tea on Bianca’s desk, just the way she likes it. Mint tea with a generous amount of lavender honey.

Well, Bianca hasn’t drunk her tea with lavender honey since… since she felt actually married to Rachel.

“Thanks for the tea,” Bianca says. “It’s perfect.”

Bianca can hear the smile in Rachel’s voice. “I know.”

«»

The next day, Bianca goes shopping. She figures she should get something for Rachel. After all, she has to put up with Bianca.

She first stops at a candle store. Rachel loves candles, Bianca remembers distantly — she used to get Rachel candleholders. Floral scented, lavender. Her favourites. Well, the years must have changed things, but Bianca still loves her lavender honey, and her coffee that precise way.

And then she goes to a florist.

Rachel’s favourite flowers are carnations, heliotrope, and forget-me-nots. Bianca decides to go with pink carnations, purple heliotrope, and blue forget-me-nots, along with white yarrow. She hopes it’ll make Rachel happy. She always likes flowers. As a last minute decision, Bianca adds lavender to the bunch.

"Got someone you're thinking of?" the florist asks, her almost luminous green eyes (that distantly remind Bianca of Rachel) lighting up and a smirk decorating her face.

"Sort of," Bianca replies, looking down at her name plate. Lou Ellen, it reads.

So she walks back to the apartment, putting in the code, up to the top floor. With her family's money, Rachel easily affords the penthouse.

It's odd. This is so familiar. Bianca used to do this same thing every day.

And now she lives in New York, across the country.

Bianca loves New York more than she ever loved California. But she can't say that she misses New York.

Rachel fits better in California then when they were in university in New York, she thinks, with a sudden pang. They left for California for a reason.

But the elevator dings and Bianca arrives at the top floor, walking to their door and opening it. Rachel's cooking something, the smell weighing down the air. The scene is so unbearably domestic, just like how they used to be.

Rachel turns when Bianca arrives, cooking momentarily forgotten. "Oh! Flowers? And candles?"

"Kind of like a thanks-for-putting-up-with-me gift," Bianca explains.

Rachel smiles. "I love them. But you didn't have to get it for me. I wouldn't... not put up with you."

Bianca smiles back, and she goes to the cabinet to get a vase worthy of them. The kitchen is still organized the way that it used to be, five years ago. The déjà vu grows more poignant.

"I'm almost done dinner," Rachel says. "It's chicken. Mostly easy."

"Thanks," Bianca says, because she feels like she has to. "It's fine. Chicken’s great."

And it stirs up a memory. Second date, Bianca got sick, so Rachel came over to her terrible student living and made chicken, of all things. Maria, Bianca’s mother, hated chicken, for whatever reason, so it was the first time Bianca really had chicken.

Until that day with Rachel.

Bianca will admit, she doesn’t like chicken all that much.

But Rachel’s already hosting, and Bianca doesn’t really want to protest.

“Dinner is ready,” Rachel says, softly, as if she’s afraid of disturbing Bianca.

“Thanks," Bianca replies, putting her things away, all the paper back in its folders and into her four-inch binder.

When Rachel serves the food, dinner turns into a quiet affair. It's not awkward — thank the sea and stars — but it is silent. The sunset streams through the windows, and Rachel is still so beautiful in the golden light.

Gold suits her.

Gold suits Rachel, unlike Bianca, whose complexion has always left more for silver than for gold. Gold suits Rachel the way that green does.

Bianca's reminded of their wedding dresses. Bianca wore all black and silver, Rachel in white and gold. It was a little pointless, a little fanciful, but it made great pictures and greater happiness.

But that is far behind her now. That's far behind both of them.

The fresh flowers Bianca got Rachel are on the table, as beautiful as they will ever be. The almond-like scent of heliotrope is faint, the clove-like carnations likewise, but the lavender is pungent compared to them, and not only for the flowers, but also from the fact that Rachel burns the candle Bianca got her that afternoon.

It's in an old candleholder, and it is almost familiar. Well, it is, it's just that Bianca hasn't seen it since... five years ago. But Bianca, in the deep recesses of her memory, remembers it. It was a one-year anniversary gift, painted cream and accented with lavender flowers. Bianca supposes Rachel decided to match them.

But it's so eerily similar to how things used to be. Bianca is sitting and eating in a meal strangely reminiscent of the ones that they used to have before she left.

Bianca could write a piece about this. She can already picture a string quartet — soft violin and soothing cello and viola to balance it all out. Or a piano trio, with a piano and a violin and a cello.

She looks up at Rachel, only to see Rachel looking at her.

"Do I have something on my face?" Bianca asks, because, in all honesty, Bianca cannot think of another reason.

"Oh, no," Rachel says, and looks away. "It's nothing."

«»

The next day, Bianca calls Drew. Drew's voice is grainy through the phone, but by every god to have ever existed, Bianca misses her.

"So. How's Rachel?"

"She's good."

"There's more to the story, I'm sure."

"You know me so well."

"Of course I do, hon. We've been friends for how many years?"

"Too many."

"You sell me short. Anyway, what is going on? Nico and Hazel are in panic mode because you're responding to precisely none of their calls."

"I don't want to."

"Good for you — honestly. Put yourself first for once. Not your career, and definitely not your siblings."

“I can’t just… not take care of them.”

“Sure you can. They’re adults. You can rekindle your relationship with your wife.”

“She’s not really my…”

“Anyone can see you wish she really was,” Drew replies. “Besides, everyone’s fine. Go get your marital bliss or whatever.”

Bianca blushes. “Drew. Tanaka.”

“Bianca. Di. Angelo.”

“I don't... She doesn't..."

"Sure she doesn't. If you can't do everything again, just be friends. Trust me. It'll be better."

"Thanks, Drew."

"And call Hazel. She's better about this than Nico is, you know."

"Fine."

"I have to go — practice is in thirty minutes, and I still need to get there."

"See you."

"Cya. Hope you get it sorted out."

"Thanks."

The phone clicks off. Drew's busy, she always has been. She travels for her soloing work – everyone wants the best violinist in the world – and Bianca and her catch up when they can. Drew’s home base is New York, but Bianca hopes that, if she is to stay in California, that Drew can get a position here for a while.

Bianca pauses. Thinks about Drew's advice. She's usually right about these things – relationships come so easy to her. But Drew hasn't seen Rachel in years, either. But she has seen Hazel recently.

Bianca knows Hazel should be free around now. She picks up the phone, and dials Hazel's number.

Hazel picks up on the second rung. "Bianca? Oh my, we were so worried. Nico and I, that is. This is so unlike you."

"Hi, Hazel. Everything's fine. I'm just..."

"You miss Rachel."

"Yeah." Bianca doesn't have the energy — or the will — to tell Hazel the truth.

"Nico says hi, so does Lavinia. We miss you, but if it makes you happier, stay in California. I'm just... surprised that you would do this."

"I didn't expect it of myself either."

Bianca can hear Hazel's smile on her voice. "The most unexpected is sometimes the best. That being said, nothing much has changed, if anything truly ever changes."

"When have you gotten philosophical on me?"

"Since getting the philosophy degree, obviously."

"Going for the doctorate?"

"Obviously. Lavinia makes enough money that I don't have to worry about it — and from what we have from Father, it's fine. Plus, I could be a professor!”

"That's good. I'll... probably be back soon."

"We miss you."

"I miss all of you, too."

"Have fun down in California, Bianca. I'll see you whenever you come back."

"I'll see you then, too."

The phone clicks off, and Bianca sighs. She hates that she doesn't know what to say to Hazel. She hates that she doesn't know what to say to Rachel. She hates that Drew was right.

Drew's voice rings in her head as it says, "I'm always right."

Bianca snorts to herself. She'd counter with that one time in university when Drew bombed a test, but Drew's not here, and Bianca just has the silent apartment to herself.

One of Rachel's sketchbooks lies on the kitchen table. Bianca recognizes it — it's the one that Rachel brought when they went to the botanical garden.

Bianca, on some odd whim, opens it. She knows she shouldn’t – artists’ work should be their own. But she can’t help herself.

The first page is lovingly detailed drawings of lavender, beautiful and as realistic, and different flowers decorate the pages after it, until one page gives Bianca a pause.

It's herself. It's Bianca, in rendered radiance. The drawing of herself has a small smile on her face as she looks down. Her bangs hang over her face and her hair is in a ponytail. It's achingly real, and Bianca sees herself in it.

Is this how Rachel sees her? She doesn't know, but Bianca feels like she's intruding on a private moment.

She closes the sketchbook, but its drawing bothers her for the rest of the day, for some inexplicable reason that Bianca cannot name.

«»

Bianca makes breakfast the next day. She's not the best cook in the world, but at least she's better than Nico. And her father was never one to cook (and neither was her stepmother, come to think of it), so Bianca would cook, and then Hazel, who was always better than her.

Pancakes were always a family favourite, especially when their parents would go away, and it would just be Bianca, Nico, and Hazel.

Bianca remembers that Rachel also loves pancakes.

Or, she did. But Bianca's pretty sure everyone loves pancakes. So.

As Bianca makes the pancakes, she admires the apartment around her. Rachel's made a dedication to paint all of the walls, as it seems — she started when Bianca still lived with her. Back, a million years ago, when they still lived together. There's flowers along one wall, abstract shapes along another, some fabric pinned to create a beautiful mural of some kind of abstractness with some things that look oddly familiar to Bianca.

Everything here feels so Rachel that Bianca being there feels a violation of the space in itself.

But there are things that remind Bianca of herself, too. Things that Rachel hasn't bothered to get rid of in the years since Bianca's been gone.

The kitchen's still organized the exact same way. There's still a stupid smiley face made with Posca paint pens on one of the backing tiles, a heart with Bianca's signature curved tails, next to one of Rachel's little anatomically realistic hearts (because Rachel couldn't do anything halfway, and Bianca dared her as a joke).

The kitchen tiles were the first that they decided to do that on, and some of the paint has chipped. But Bianca's stupid little doodles that don't even look good sit right next to Rachel's masterpieces. They'd laugh and paint and cry all the same.

It used to be so easy. Bianca didn't care because it was Rachel and that meant everything and nothing all the same.

"Bianca?" Rachel asks groggily, from the door to her bedroom.

"I'm making pancakes."

"Thanks."

"Of course."

The pancakes are done soon enough. Time is no longer an issue to Bianca, for whatever reason. But with her case soon drawing to a close, Bianca's slightly afraid of having to go back to New York.

The realization that she doesn't want to go back to New York is an epiphany Bianca never thought would happen. The realization that she wants to stay with Rachel is even more of one.

But Bianca has a week. A week before she leaves and everything goes back to how it impossibly was before.

That weighs bitterly on her tongue, like the coating of forgotten pomegranate seeds, fermented as to invoke disgust.

"Bianca?" Rachel asks. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, just thinking."

"About what?"

Now Bianca just needs to come up with a convincing lie. "A hot dog is a sandwich."

"Oh, really? I think that categorizing things in categories like that is inherently ambiguous."

"It may be, but categorizing things helps bring peace of mind."

"Stuffing things into categories just makes the boxes too big."

Bianca admits that it's kind of nice to argue with Rachel again, about silly and meaningless things.

«»

The court case will take longer than Bianca expects, as is obvious from the get-go. Bianca has the evidence, though, but the prosecution is much more adamant than Bianca thought it'd be.

Never mind that. Bianca is not altogether terrible at this. She's definitely not the best, but she's good, and she's determined. Every case takes a lot out of her — her faith in humanity, for one — but in the end, it's always worth it.

Is anything ever not?

(Bianca knows seeing Rachel again is worth it. Bianca also, impossibly, knows leaving her was worth it, too.)

But she's at court for most of the day, going home (she shudders at how easily Rachel's apartment has become her home once more), cooking dinner (it's the least she can do), and talking to Rachel, sometimes long into the night.

And so her week goes.

The flowers Bianca bought wilt a little, their smell waning as Bianca's time in California draws to a close. Conversation comes easily now, and Bianca would be lying if she said it wasn't comfortable, if she said that leaving wouldn't hurt.

(Bianca won't admit it, but she's been falling love with Rachel all over again.)

But the week passes too fast, too quickly, and suddenly the case is done (and won) and Bianca is set to leave in a few days' time.

"You're leaving," Rachel states, as only she can, a day before Bianca leaves. The lavender candle is burning, and it smells like lavender throughout the apartment.

"I've got to go back to New York," Bianca says, willing herself not to cry. This isn't sad. Rachel will move on, just like she did before. Rachel hasn't been falling in love with Bianca all over again.

"What if," Rachel hesitates, and Bianca doesn't dare hope, "I don't want you to leave?"

"What?"

"Sorry, just ignore it," Rachel says, all in a hurry, like the words are a fire that catches too quickly.

"I'm not going to," Bianca replies, as if that could change anything. "I'll tell you a secret. I don't want to leave, either."

"Then don't."

"I won't."

That afternoon, Bianca cancels her flight and stays with Rachel.

«»

They don't talk about it. They don't talk about how Bianca decided to start another case, to stay. They don't talk about how Rachel didn't want her to leave. They talk around it, anything else, because Bianca isn't quite sure she's ready for that conversation and she doubts Rachel is either.

But Bianca knows they have to talk about it eventually.

She doesn't want to. Instead, she calls Drew.

"I'm not going back," Bianca says. "Rachel and I agree — I'm staying in California."

"No duh," Drew says. "That's great, though. Glad you're staying with Rachel — chase your own happiness."

"How do I tell Hazel and Nico?"

"Text message, or whatever. You've got to tell them, but it'll be fine. Let's focus on you and Rachel, though. Back together?"

"No."

Bianca can hear Drew's sigh through the phone, through the static. "Just admit it. You're in love with her, she's probably in love with you. She wanted you to stay."

"We haven't talked about it."

"Hon. You're never going to if you don't do it as soon as possible. You're going to be in the 'pining roommates' stage forever. And you’re married! I don't want to be hard on you, but please."

"I know," Bianca says, hoping Drew can hear her rolling her eyes all the way in New York. "What do you know of romance anyway?"

"My mother writes romance novels for a living. They're incredibly lucrative."

"That means nothing. You would rather drink glass than read one of her novels."

"Would you rather I get your auntie Hera on call?"

"No! That would be even worse!"

Drew laughs. "What I'm saying is, just give it a chance. If it doesn't work out, you come back to New York. Why keep waiting? You've been waiting for this for five years. You can't keep waiting because eventually Nico might have another accident, or Hazel might, or they both want you back, and you don't know how to not help you siblings constantly. Just do it for yourself."

"I didn't ask to be psychoanalyzed."

"I'm your best friend. It's my job."

Bianca sighs. "I'll talk to her."

"Good."

"How's your newest piece?"

"I hate Paganini," Drew announces. "I always have, I always will. They want me to do a show, with like one piano accompaniment, at Carnegie Hall. I would rather kill myself."

"You're not called the best violinist in the world for nothing, you know."

"Yeah, but I've been doing his Variations on God Save the Queen for three days now and I want to resurrect and kill him."

"And just how good are you so far?"

"I've started memorizing it," Drew mutters, as if ashamed.

"Exactly. You're insane."

"So was Paganini."

Bianca pauses, hoping Drew can hear her raised eyebrow in the pause.

"Shut up," Drew says. "Anyway, go call Nico or Hazel or text them or whatever."

"Drew."

"Bianca."

"Fine."

"Goodbye!" Drew calls, before hanging up, "Remember to tell your siblings!"

The phone clicks off, and Bianca is left in the apartment, the smell of lavender seeping into the air.

She sighs. Drew's right, as seems to be all too often recently, and she calls Hazel.

It takes three rings of hollow sound for Hazel to pick up.

"Hey, Bianca," Hazel says. "You're at the airport?"

"Actually," Bianca wills herself not to cry, "I'm staying in California."

"With Rachel?"

"With Rachel."

"That's good. See you at Christmastime, or sometime soon?"

"When I can."

"I'll tell Nico," Hazel says suddenly. "Don't worry about it."

"Thanks."

"Of course. Have fun with Rachel."

"I will."

Hazel hangs up. It's odd — it was a short call, but there was so much there. Hazel doesn't sound mad, but then again, she has always been good at concealing her emotions.

Bianca knows Nico's going to be upset. But she'll stay anyways. Suddenly, a country away, Bianca doesn’t care about Nico’s emotions as much as she cares about Rachel’s presence. Which is odd because she wants to start over with Rachel.

But Bianca also knows, in the back of her mind, that that may never happen. But Bianca has always been one to want to be given life in all its pain and beauty.

«»

Bianca buys flowers for Rachel again, as the other ones go to waste. Blue cumins, blue hyacinths, white baby's breath, white daisies, and purple lavender. She can't help but hope that Rachel will like it.

Rachel wants you to stay, the annoying voice in Bianca's head that sounds suspiciously like Drew whispers. She'll be delighted in anything you get her.

Bianca ignores that voice, and stresses anyway.

Because she's bringing these flowers as a reminder of what they need to talk about. She's bringing these flowers to hopefully soften the blow that Bianca still loves Rachel.

So she goes back to the apartment with flowers, in a bouquet. Jane Austen put it best when she said I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever, and so on. Especially, I have loved none but you.

But Bianca is no writer, no artist. Unlike Rachel, Bianca has never been able to draw inspiration from the world, and turn it to silvery honey on paper. Music has always been easier. Bianca doesn't even write lyrics. It's all violet and flute and piano and whatever else catches her fancy — things Drew and her siblings Valentina and Mitchell can play, but that no one can sing.

Maybe when this is all over, Bianca can write a piece for it. Maybe a piano trio. Or a string quartet. Something about Rachel and her. That sounds about right — it can end in heartbreak or romance, depending on how Rachel response, Bianca supposes.

But never mind that.

She arrives at the apartment a little after when she means to. Bianca got the flowers just before dinner, and Rachel and her decided to go out that day, anyway.

Her palms are sweaty, it's like a first date, but slightly to the left. Rachel's as beautiful as ever, a little nervous, though, her hand fiddling with her dress. Bianca's still able to read Rachel well after all these years, but she still wonders why Rachel's nervous at all.

They get Chinese food, the kind that's really, really good, but only because Rachel knows where to go. She takes Bianca to a place that is almost achingly familiar, and the old Chinese lady behind the counter smiles at Rachel and Bianca. Her name's... Eleanor, some recess of Bianca's mind reminds her.

"You're back," she says, nodding at Bianca.

"I am," Bianca says, smiling back.

The food's great, and conversation ends up filling the air between Rachel and Bianca. They're still putting off the big conversation to come.

Never mind that. The food's great.

"I was thinking that maybe you'd like to help paint the new walls?" Rachel asks. "I'd like you to."

"I am altogether terrible at art, but I'd love to help."

Rachel smiles. "Also. Do you want to have dinner with Katie and Travis at some point? Their two kids will be there, but I think that you need to be re-introduced."

"Of course."

They're putting it off. Rachel knows. Bianca knows. Maybe it's because they don't want to have that conversation and all it entails. Maybe it's because Rachel doesn't want to break Bianca's heart again. But whatever it is, Bianca feels even worse by the time that they leave the restaurant and head back.

Or, well, they don't. Instead, Rachel takes Bianca to an oceanside boardwalk. It's late, and there are no stars, but the city lights are a good enough substitute. It smells like lavender.

"We, uh, need to talk about something," Rachel says.

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

The stagnancy hangs in the air. Unlike before, Bianca decides to do something about it.

"I'm still in love with you," she says, all out in a rush, like the words are spilling from the sky in fat rain droplets that come one after the other.

"Thank any and every god," Rachel breathes.

"Sorry?"

"I was about to say the same thing."

Bianca grins, and suddenly she can't stop laughing.

"Why did this take so long?"

"I don't know."

"I never should have left."

"Well, you can remedy that now."

"Really?"

"Just kiss me."

And so Bianca does. It's not perfect, but it's been years, and so it's as perfect as it could be.

«»

Bianca doesn’t stop smiling, even as she wakes up.

She slept late, and Rachel's already gone, an early commitment for her art. Just so she doesn't worry, there's a little note in Rachel's curvy handwriting on the bedside table. Hope it wasn't too jarring waking up. I'll be back around eleven for lunch! — Rachel (P.S. we probably still need to have a conversation, but I don't think the direction it goes will be a surprise.), it reads.

Bianca smiles at it, and the clock reads 9:36. She has an hour and a half before Rachel comes back, and she can't stop smiling.

Bianca doesn't usually eat breakfast, just a cup of coffee, and she decides to call Drew.

"Bianca?" Drew says, over the phone. "What's up?"

"Rachel and I talked," Bianca replies, trying to keep the childish giddiness out of her voice.

"Oh, great. How was it?"

"Great! We still need to have a bigger conversation about what we're doing now, but..."

Bianca can hear Drew smiling. "Great. I told you it'd happen."

"You were right."

"I'm always right, hon."

"Remember that time you lost two truths and a lie, badly?"

"Shut up. Congrats, though. Want me to tell your siblings?"

"No, that would be terrible. I'll tell them, I promise."

"Good. I'm having lunch with Valentina very soon, though, so I have to go, but you're telling me all the details later."

"Talk to you later."

"Absolutely."

The phone clicks off, and Bianca smiles. Maybe that's what Drew and her relationship will be reduced to now — short calls made to update each other on small things. Bianca can live with that. Bianca can live with a lot of things.

But it's around twelve thirty in New York right now — Drew has always liked late lunches — and Hazel and Nico are both bound to be busy, so Bianca holds off calling them.

It's odd. It's almost like a cycle. Bianca was born in Italy, but she soon came to New York, and then California for her law degree. Then she married Rachel and stayed here, until Nico's accident, in which she went back to New York.

And now she's in California. The two cities that could tell Bianca's life story are Los Angeles and New York City, in equal and opposite measures.

But Bianca wouldn't trade her life for anything, now.

And she needs to call Nico. Because he's her little brother, and no matter how upset she gets with him, and no matter how upset he gets with her, Nico is Bianca's only full sibling. That's not to say she isn't close with Hazel, but there are some things that Nico understands that Hazel cannot — like emigrating from Italy. Like the memories of their mother that Bianca finds comforting.

Bianca thinks Maria would've liked Rachel. She always has.

«»

Rachel comes home with flowers. Bianca’s favourite, lavender, and flowerless southernwood and blue salvia and baby’s breath to tie it all together.

“Figured I should get you flowers, too,” she says, smiling almost sheepishly, if Bianca tilts her head slightly and lets herself believe it.

Bianca takes the flowers and puts them into a vase. “I thought I was supposed to be the one to bring flowers.”

“Hey now, I can’t offer you that advantage. I also need to flaunt my wonderful taste in flowers.”

“Naturally,” Bianca replies. “Alternate weeks?”

“Alternate weeks,” Rachel agrees, then pauses. Bianca lets her take her time. “Speaking of, we’re… doing this?”

“Trying again?”

“Yeah.”

“We are,” Bianca says. “Or, I hope we are.”

“We are.”

“Promise I won’t leave again.”

“You better not.”

Bianca laughs, Rachel joining her, and she can smell the lavender.

[moonlightswritingandstuff]

crowned by an overture bold and beyond (oh, it's most courageous to overcome)

Bianca di Angelo has long known that she'll become queen of Viacta someday. Someday, however, has turned into today.

just realized i forgot to post this!

written for day eight: au in pjo rarepair week 2023!

@them-awesome-rarepairs

read on ao3!

"Ready for your coronation?” Queen, soon-to-be Queen Mother Maria di Angelo asks. She adjusts her gown, resplendently filled with jewels and gems and the finest lace money can buy. But it’s not threaded with gold like Bianca’s dress. Instead, it’s threaded in silver - to symbolize how Maria is soon to be not queen.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Bianca replies. Her own gown is somehow more resplendent than her mother’s, all lace and jewels and gold thread.

“Good,” Nico, Bianca’s little brother, says. “I’ve been waiting for forever.”

“Nicola di Angelo,” Maria scolds. “This is your sister’s coronation, the biggest day of her life. Keep some decorum.”

Nico rolls his eyes.

“I’m excited!” Hazel, better known by her name in Viacta of Princess Nocciola, exclaims. She’s known as Queen Maria’s adopted daughter, whose adoption was entirely unprecedented. In fact, Hazel was born not much after Queen Maria and her lover, also known as Bianca and Nico’s father, had split up - and said lover had loved a different woman in a different country. Although Hazel was known to be adopted, no one knew that she was actually Bianca and Nico’s half-sister.

“That’s good. Bia, put on Crown Princess, now Queen, Bianca; Nico, put on Prince Nicola, soon to be Crown Prince Nicola; and Hazel, put on Princess Nocciola,” Maria instructs.

Hazel sucks in a b.reath before arranging her features. She’d never adjusted completely, had not been born into it like Bianca and Nico. In fact, Hazel had only been introduced to them nine years ago at the age of thirteen when her mother, Marie Levesque, had died.

They arrange themselves in a line to greet the public. Hazel first, then Nico, then Maria, and lastly Bianca.

Bianca’s the only person wearing gold thread at this event. She should be, at least. She’s wearing the colours of Viacta, red and gold and white.

“Her Royal Highness Princess Nocciola di Angelo, lady of gemstones, second in line, daughter of Queen Maria di Angelo!” the announcer shouts as Hazel walks into the open, head held high with confidence, to cheers.

“His Royal Highness Prince Nicola di Angelo, lord of shadows, son of Queen Maria di Angelo!”

Nico walks out, similar posture to Hazel, to cheers only growing louder.

“Her Majesty Queen Maria di Angelo the Beloved!”

The council picked ‘the Beloved’ as Bianca’s mother’s epithet earlier, and it fit. Maria was a progressive queen, and a beloved one at that. And the people cheer for Maria more than any other.

“Her Royal Highness, Crown Princess Bianca di Angelo, lady of night, heir to the throne, daughter of Queen Maria di Angelo!”

Bianca steps out to thunderous applause. At twenty-five, it is customary for the next-in-line to receive the crown. Everyone here knows what is happening.

Deep in the boxes of the aristocracy, Bianca catches a glimpse of Lady Rachele Elisabetta Dare, of the rich Dare line. Her father had bought a title for himself and his line, coming from a far-off county. Rachele’s name has changed in response, from Rachel to Rachele.

Rachele’s red hair and smile are unmistakable, providing some comfort to Bianca.

Bianca takes a deep breath in as the people clapped, and walks towards the throne.

Her family already flank it. Maria holds the crown.

Bianca bows, and Maria places the crown on her head. The ancestral crown is heavy but only in the literal sense of that word; whorls and filigree and ornature make the crown look light and airy.

The people cheers.

Maria waves her hand, and the crowd quieted. “I hereby resign from my position of queen of Viacta, and my daughter, Queen Bianca di Angelo, will take the throne in my absence.”

Bianca turns, and then bows low, as low as she can without dislodging the crown on her head.

People whisper. No queen has ever bowed to the people, just the throne.

Bianca bows to the throne next, a full one-eighty-degree turn from her bow to the people.

She rises, and begins her address. “Dear friends and denizens of Viacta, I stand before you as your queen…”

«»

“Well done, Bia,” Maria says. “Or should I say, Queen Bianca di Angelo?”

“I’m still the same person, Mamma,” Bianca insists.

“If you insist.”

“I do.”

Maria smiles. “I’ll help you for the first year or so. You’ve already been sitting in councils since sixteen, but…”

“Mamma, I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not worried.”

Bianca raises an eyebrow.

“Maybe a little. But I know you’ll be an excellent queen.”

“Thanks, Mamma.”

«»

There are very few people who know of Bianca’s biggest secret. They number at seven, eight if you count Rachele.

And that secret is, naturally, that Bianca is in love with Rachele, and likewise, Rachele is in love with Bianca.

Of course, Bianca’s family knows, but Rachele’s family does not.

Bianca smiles at that. Beyond the door are her friends, of course. Andreina, Annabetta, Luisa Elena, Rachele, and Caterina, hopefully.

“Congratulations!” Tanaka Adzumi, better known by her Viactan name of Andreina Tanzi, says as Bianca enters the room she usually meets her friends in. “How does it feel to be the most important person in Viacta?”

“Nerve-wracking,” Bianca replies with a smile. “Where’s Annabetta, Luisa Elena, and Catti?”

“I’m here!” Annabetta, better known by her formal name of Anna Elisabetta Cacciatore, yells as she steps into the room.

“No idea where Luisa Elena is,” Rachele says. “Probably evading some suitor.”

“Just like us?” Andreina asks.

“Exactly, Drei.”

Bianca rolls her eyes, and sits down next to Rachele.

This group of friends Bianca’s acquired is full of lower-down people. Rachele is new, new money, Andreina is from a family of ambassadors, Luisa Elena isn’t from a particularly distinguished family. However, both Annabetta and Caterina were born to a higher-up family, despite Caterina's family's... controversy.

“Sorry I’m late!” Luisa Elena Nerocalcolo yells.

"Sorry we're late," Caterina Ortolano continues. "Luisa Elena and I got held up by who else but Lords Tacito and Concetto Pellegrini."

Bianca smiles at that. Lord Tacito has long tried to get Caterina's attention, but his... ideas of how to do so continually upset Caterina.

“It’s okay,” Rachele says. “Not like we have any particularly interesting things to talk about. Oh, wait.”

Everyone turns to Bianca.

“I’m still the same person,” Bianca says.

“We never said you weren’t,” Annabetta states. “How does it feel, though?”

“Honestly? A little scary.”

“You’ll be a good queen,” Andreina assures Bianca.

“Thanks.”

“That being said-” Rachele starts before being cut off by a knock at the door.

They arrange themselves into more presentable positions. Rachele fiddles with her dress.

Bianca opens the door to reveal Hazel and Nico.

“Your Royal Highnesses Princess Nocciola and Prince Nicola,” Bianca’s friend chorus, each dropping into curtsies befitting their ranks.

Hazel bobs into a shallow, shaky curtsy. It’s lower than it should be. Nico, however, sweeps into the exactly appropriate bow.

Gossip columns slam Hazel with slander constantly. She’s not, and will never be, the perfect princess that they want her to be. But Bianca and Nico have both been the target of the gossip columns too. The gossip always moves on eventually.

“Lady Dare, Lady Tanzi, Lady Cacciatore, Lady Nerocalcolo,” Hazel and Nico chorus back.

“May we converse with Your Majesty?”

“Of course.”

Bianca leaves the room and closes the door behind her. She’s only been queen a day, but it is not much more busy then before, only more prestigious. The transition had been in place for years - it started when Bianca was sixteen.

Bianca and her siblings walk down to a separate meeting room, closing the door behind them.

Within seconds, their dispositions change.

“Is there anything important I should know?” Bianca asks.

“No, not really,” Nico says, at the exact same time Hazel says, “Yes.”

“What is it?”

“You know that both of us are legitimate heirs, right?” Hazel starts.

“Yes?”

“And any daughters we have will be potential heirs?”

“Yes?”

"And adoption is a perfectly viable way to have heirs?"

"Yes..."

“And Nonna legalized marriage between men and men and women and women?”

Bianca knows all of this - her grandmother had legalized it years ago, before Bianca was even born. But... “Are you saying what I think you are?”

“Yes,” Nico says. “You can more publicly court Rachele. It wouldn’t be to out of the question - the Dare family is rich enough, if a little young - and it wouldn’t be too radical. Lady Demetra Ortolano and Lady Iasia Ortolano have been married for a while now. You're friends with their daughter."

Bianca sighs. "I know."

"Great!" Hazel says. "Anyway, we should be getting you back to your friends - tell Rachele that she can join in on our art time!"

"I will."

«»

"Well, Bia, how was the first week?" Maria asks.

"Good, thanks for asking."

Maria smiles. "Sometimes it'll be easier, sometimes it'll be harder. Just, this is a commitment."

"I know, Mamma."

"I know you do, my little queen."

Bianca and Maria smile at each other.

"Also, Bia, if you want to court Rachele, we'll make it happen."

"I know."

"Good. You'll be an excellent queen."

"I can only hope."

[softmoonlightmelody]

bianca di angelo and rachel elizabeth dare's ship name is rachianca. no i will not elaborate on why i have come up with this. other option is dareangelo??? idk

(it's my bianca lives/percy dies au)

[moonlightswritingandstuff]

dresses, but more importantly, waffles

Both Drew and Bianca have a day off - and so they spend their day doing one of their favourite activities - shopping.

@drewtanakaweek. for day two, two days late.

read on ao3!

Drew's day started out as most do in the lull of a midsummer weekend, sleepy and late with a blue, blue sky. Drew's free - her internship at a cosmetologist's and her cosmetology studies are both off for today - and the world seems to be begging for a free day for Drew.

Or, it will be. For now, Drew is content in calmly staying in bed. Or, she was, until someone decided to throw open her curtains.

"Rise and shine, lazy," Drew's sort-of best friend, sort-of girlfriend, and roommate Bianca says.

"Asshole," Drew mutters. "Why does it matter to you? We don't even share a room!"

"And? It's a lovely day. We have a shopping date."

"We're not dating."

"What do you call it, then?"

"Something between dating and not."

Bianca rolls her eyes. "Dear Drew, how about queerplatonic-ing?"

"Whatever goes. Floats your boat. Drinks your tea."

"It's 'cup of tea'."

"Sorry, I can't hear you over your annoyingness and impertinence."

Bianca snorts, shaking her head. "Sure."

"Plus, don't you have a crush on that Rachel girl?"

"Drew!"

Drew shrugs lazily. "What about it?"

"Do I have to full-name you?"

"Maybe."

"Fine. Drew Tanaka, I do not have a crush on Rachel Elizabeth Dare!"

"Hmm. Can't hear you over the denial."

Bianca rolls her eyes. "I am not in denial. Anyway, shopping?"

Drew bolts up. "Yes. I need to get a dress or something. I realized yesterday that I have a stunning lack of dresses - only seven, and like five aren't even everyday dresses. So I need more everyday dresses. Where did my dresses go?"

"You could make them yourself, you know. And they'd look great besides if you tried it."

"Too lazy."

"Hmm. Fair. Anyway, get changed or whatever. Let's go to the waffle place for breakfast."

"You had me at shopping, and now you want to sweeten the deal with waffles? I'm so in."

"Waffles are the key to your heart, dear Drew."

«»

The mall is one of Drew's favourite places. Of course, they start at the waffle place. Bianca and Drew have spent countless mornings this way. In fact, it's come to the point where the waitress who usually serves them knows their orders by heart and their names by memory.

"The usual?" she asks. Her nameplate reads Lou Ellen, and her knowing smile makes both Bianca and Drew smile.

"Of course," Bianca says. "Which reminds me. How's your teaching degree going?"

"Great! I'm going to get my certification soon, and I'm almost done all my classes. What about your law degree?"

Bianca rolls her eyes. "Pretty difficult, but it's challenging in a good way. Chugging along, though. I'm sure I'll get it soon."

"And you, Drew?"

Drew shrugs. "The entire cosmetology thing's going well. Mother has this idea to help me set up my own company, but I need to get the degree first. And I don't really know if I can handle a company. Actually, that sounds super privileged, now that I think about it."

Lou Ellen snorts. "It's fine. But remember to live your life for yourself over anyone else. Anyway, I'll go get your waffles now."

"Thanks, Lou Ellen!"

"Thanks!"

«»

The waffles are as excellent as always. Bianca picks up the bill and they thank Lou Ellen once again and head out.

"Doesn't Rachel work at the art store nearby?" Drew asks.

"Drew. Stop trying to set me up with Rachel."

"Hmm... No."

"Drew."

"No."

Bianca rolls her eyes. "Dear darlingest Drew, please stop setting me up with Rachel."

"How about no. Oh, and look over there - it's the Lego store!"

"I'm going to ignore that obvious topic change in favour of Lego. You get away this time."

"You're going to let me get away with it every time."

"Shhh. You can't reveal my weaknesses."

Drew raises an eyebrow. "Lego?"

"Yes, but also Nico and Hazel both love Lego. And so does Leo. Actually, all our friends love Lego."

"Seems like we have a pattern on our hands."

"We like Lego."

"Yeah, there's a pattern."

"Definitely. Anyway, is that a Lego Botanical set? Look how-"

"It's beautiful."

Bianca smiles. "Can we afford it?"

"There's the problem."

It's a beautiful set, naturally, one of the Lego Botanical Collection ones. It's the Wildflower Bouquet, according to its labeling, and it's really nice.

"If we buy it we might not have enough money for the dresses."

"Dammit. Keep going, then."

«»

They reach the store eventually. Eventually.

"Look at that one!" Drew exclaims. It's a dress; the skirt is full of pink tulle, layers upon layers of the palest pink possible. The bodice is more solid and cream-coloured, and separating the two halves is a white ribbon. It's the kind of dress little girls get, but sized up appropriately. And without an overload of sparkles, unfortunately.

"You'd look great in that," Bianca says. "But what's the price tag?"

"My budget's a hundred thirty, price tag is... ninety dollars!"

"Hell yeah," Bianca grins. "Wonder if they have a blue matching one. For reasons."

"Reasons."

"Yes, reasons."

"Wait, I was supposed to get an everyday dress."

"Oh well."

"Oh well," Drew agrees.

"You have to try it on, though," Bianca says. "What if it doesn't fit?"

"It better."

Bianca snorts, before suddenly growing excited. "Look, there's a blue one - we could match!"

Drew grins.  "We'll have to try them on first."

«»

"We can match now!" Bianca exclaims. "Quick, what are some fun date-slash-not-date ideas we can use them for?"

"Fancy restaurant?"

"High tea?"

"As long as there's food, I'm in."

Bianca laughs. "Are you, perhaps, a connoisseur?"

"Not even close."

"Oh, I see. Within time, then."

"Maybe, maybe not. Do you think I have enough money?"

Bianca snorts, and shakes her head quickly.

"Anyway, I forgot to get everyday dresses."

"Oh well."

"Oh well."

"Anyway, want to check out the jewelry store? We'll probably be unable to afford anything under any kind of realistic budget, but it's fun."

"Why don't we go to Claire's?"

Bianca's face lights up. "You know me so well. I want more snake earrings."

"Of course you do."

[softmoonlightmelody]

just had a thought: annatina (valebeth?). annabeth chase x valentina diaz. why does this make sense?

well first off, annabeth is pretty uptight and, although i wouldn't say shy, she's pretty nervous around people and compensates by being either mean (as a defense) or standoffish (read: the previous reason). imo, valentina is very bubbly and open to new people, and she seems like the kind of cheerful and happy to that can melt annabeth's walls. additionally, valentina seems like the kind of person that doesn't usually show her true self to people, whereas annabeth feels trustworthy and dependable to most people upon first meeting. both of them have walls but i think the other can melt them down.

secondly, a lot of ship dynamics can fit them, so it's not too out-of-question that they would be fanfic-worthy. grumpy (annabeth) x sunshine (valentina), person a loves their personal space (annabeth) x person b also loves person a's personal space (valentina), butch (annabeth) x femme (valentina), lawyer (annabeth) x artist (valentina), logic (annabeth) x emotion (valentina), nicknames only the other is allowed to call them. there's a million things that can fit in this that are definitely really sweet.

third, both annabeth and valentina are year-rounders, meaning that they spend a lot of time together throughout the year if for nothing but circumstance. they also both probably spend a lot of time in the arts area - athena with craft and aphrodite with beauty - so there's a large amount of scenarios that they'd be thrown in together for.

fourth, both annabeth and valentina can help each other grow. annabeth is very skeptical of aphrodite kids and kind of believes that being book-smart is the only form of intelligence, and valentina can help her realize that emotional intelligence is important and so are street smarts. valentina has a tendency to see people as characters in a romcom or people to set up (for example, she debates using aphrodite's girdle to manipulate paolo, because she sees him as her 'love interest' - may be stretching here), and annabeth can help her see the real humans behind them - the reason annabeth's fatal flaw is never deadly is because of the people around her.

lastly, annabeth and valentina feel like their life goals would match up pretty well, which means a sustainable long-term relationship. both of them would probably want to get married at a relatively small wedding (maybe even eloping), both of them would probably want kids, and both of them would probably want to live in the big city. even if they don't agree on everything, they seem like they'd compromise for each other.

in conclusion, ship annatina.