The first afternoon of the new year finds Alina sitting in the corner of a cafe, sketchbook open on her lap. She’s nearly done; just some soft shading underneath the windows and she can close the book.
This is her 324th New Year’s. She keeps the habit of marking the occasion, but parties lose their appeal after a certain number of them and she finds it harder and harder to maintain friendships that she’ll have to let go of eventually. So now she celebrates on her own by buying an expensive drink and allowing the celebratory mood of the city to wash over her.
She sighs and puts the pencil down to take a sip of her cooled latte. A refill may be in order, but she wants to wait until the line at the counter’s grown shorter, so she watches as each of the customers place their orders.
Wind gusts through the shop when someone new enters and joins the end of the line. Alina turns to look at the newcomer; she catches a glimpse of dark hair and a familiar face and her immortal heart seizes up.
She hasn’t seen him in twenty years; it’s felt like both the blink of an eye and several lifetimes since their last fight and decision to part once again. He hasn’t seen her yet; she could just turn away and look away and pretend like she hasn’t noticed him.
But, does she want to?
“Aleksander,” she calls, and even though her voice is quiet in the busy cafe, he still turns as if he could hear her perfectly.
It’s been centuries, and she still never gets tired of the look on his face every time they’re reunited.
Surprise. Relief. Love. They’re made and meant for each other, even as the world changes around them. It’s always going to be the two of them.
#DARKLINA: there is nothing i do better than revenge
For @darklinadec day 13: holiday party
(read on twitter, bluesky, or ao3)
She paces around his bedroom, smoothing her hands anxiously over the deep blue velvet of her dress while he slips his tie over his head and tucks it neatly under his shirt collar. “How long have we been together?”
“A month, give or take a week. It was an instant connection.” He tightens the knot. “How did we meet?”
“We’ve met once before…” Alina frowns, clearly thinking back to that holiday party. Aleksander remembers it too—how embarrassing for her, to have to deal with a blacked-out boyfriend at his family’s party, “but I was at the coffee shop across from your office a bit ago. We bumped into each other… but you got me a new scarf as an apology.” She comes up to him, fingers deftly adjusting the matching dark blue fabric and smoothing out minuscule creases until it sits to her satisfaction. They turn towards the full-length mirror simultaneously; they look like the perfect couple now, ready to enjoy a night out.
A night out in the vipers’ den. Having her on his arm might make it just a little more bearable. His nitwit of a godson abandoned this luminous creature after two years to find himself (i.e. chase other women), so now here he is, play-acting the new smitten boyfriend, in public, to teach the boy a lesson.
Only for Alina would he do all this; she certainly deserves her moment of revenge, after how Mal’s treated her. The callous break-up is not the worst of that boy’s crimes, from what he’s been told. “And that’s not too convenient of a story?”
She frowns, dark red lips turning downwards in a way that makes him want to correct his mistake immediately. “Is the real story any better?”
“Yes, I guess you’re right. Sweetheart.” He pauses, to consider both the sound of it and Alina’s furrowed brow. “Hm, no… darling? Honey? My love? What do you prefer?”
A grimace, reflected in the mirror back at him. “Must we? It’s just one night.”
“Yes, milaya. We must, if you want to be a stickler about the details.” He likes the sound of this, though, and the implication of something secret, just for the two of them despite how recently they started dating. An immediate close connection, an instant spark that leads to matching outfits and pet names a month later. “Hm, yes, I think that’s it.”
She turns back towards him, curiosity wiping the scowl from her pretty face. “What does that mean?”
He brushes his hand over her cheek, wiping a stray fleck of gold glitter off her skin. Her eyelashes flutter; he can feel warmth on his palm when her breath hitches at his touch. “I’ll tell you when we get through tonight.”