bloom.mp3

&.  can  i  take  it  to  a  morning  where  the  fields  are  painted  gold,  and  the  trees  are  filled  with  memories  of  the  feelings never  told?  when  the  evening  pulls  the  sun  down,  and  the  day  is  almost  through,  oh,  the  whole  world  it  is  sleeping  —  but  my  world  is  you. ●●●      dependent  stardew  valley  multimuse  as  penned  by  meredith.

[dcwdrops]

art.

Art wasn’t expecting company. He didn’t get out like he used to, make his rounds like he used to. It really was like Lizzie took a part of his spirit with him, and life in the valley felt tedious. Dimmer. He passed by a mirror that Lizzie had hung up by the door. He looked like the farm – bad. He answered the door anyway.

A knot twisted in his stomach when he saw her, and his heart raced with…with? Shock? Anxiety? Anger? All of the above? Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

“Why are you here?”

It’s not the response that Lizzie had been expecting — though, of course, she hadn’t been expecting much. Maybe a door slammed in her face, though there was still plenty of time left for that. She shifts nervously, hands fiddling with nothing in particular, and her eyes focused down on the ground. She can’t even look at him.

“  I was   ...   just thinking about the Valley, and had nowhere else I was planning on going. I’ve missed it.   ”   She’s missed him too, but she doesn’t know how well that’ll be received, all things considered. 

[dcwdrops]

Lizzie made a careful tread on the path towards their farm  —  she has to correct herself. It’s not really their farm, or even the farm anymore. Just Art’s farm, since she LEFT. She still feels terrible. It had torn her up inside while she’d been gone, and though excursions far, far away had been fun, her mind kept drifting back to the Valley. And, more importantly, to the people that she left behind. And she had left a LOT of important people behind. But the most important person had gotten something worse than no goodbye at all — he’d gotten a shitty one. 

I mean, what kind of person leaves a goodbye letter like that?

She stands on the porch, a frown deeply furrowed in face that usually wore a smile, and knocks on the door to the house until it opens, and she’s met with Art’s face. 

“  Hi.  ”

[dcwdrops]

Okay   ...   so this was awkward. Lizzie’s luggage bumped lazily against the rough cobblestone of Stardew Valley, and she breathes in deep when the fresh breeze hits her face. She’s missed the town, missed the people, but she couldn’t say she was excited.

She’d kind of left things on a sour note. Moreso, she’d kind of been gone for multiple months. Without so much as a goodbye. Oops   ...

[dcwdrops]

FINLEY !

Finley tries to remind themself that this wasn’t going to be easy. They knew it wouldn’t be. They had caused too much hurt for this to be easily fixed– if it can be fixed at all. But they stand there, under Jillian’s hardened gaze, and the shame in them grows more and more, and they need to actively push down that instinctive flight response. You can’t just run again.

Because nothing happened. Another small pang to their chest, another reminder that– fuck, they’re kind of an asshole, huh? “I–…” They start, pausing only because, again, Jillian’s emotions read easily on her face, even if she doesn’t mean for them to. Finley can see the hurt hidden underneath, and it’s not easy to take. Still, they push through, their voice quiet, “I never said it was nothing.”

There’s a little flicker of hurt there, that crosses her face, barely noticeable. I never said it was nothing. She certainly felt like nothing. And in this moment, what she thought she’d prepared for, she feels impossibly small again. It’s gone then: the anger that fueled her, that made her want to start this in the first place. That’s so familiar to her, always bubbling under the surface, always ready to break free. Now she just feels cold. 

“   I asked you if it was nothing and you told me you were sorry.    ”   A scoff exits her.   “   I’m not stupid, Finley.   ”  There’s a flash of frustration on her face, but it’s gone as soon as she says their name. Jillian steadies herself: for once calm, collected. Measured. That intensity is still there, lurking, but she’s straight faced and strict when she says it:   “  But fine. If you didn’t say it, I’m saying it. We’re nothing. We’ll never be anything. I’m over it, so you should be too.  ”  

She stiffens, and finally looks away.   “   If you wanna stay, you can sweep and help any customers. I’ll be on the register.  ”

[dcwdrops]

FINLEY !

Ouch. They deserve that, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting anyway. Not only that, but Jillian has always been good at making her feeling known, and the glare that she throws them speaks volumes. Their palms sweat more, their heart tries to escape one last time before realizing they have to face this with them, and they clear their throat. What do they respond to that?

For a moment, they purse their lips, averting their gaze and shifting their weight from foot to foot. Eventually, they look up at her, “Should we talk about this now, then?”

There’s a million different versions of this conversation, all sitting in front of her, just waiting for her to pick. There’s one where she yells, one where she cries, one where she picks up one of the jars on the counter and hurls it against the wall. None of them are honest. None of them articulate what she wants to say, but know she can’t. That she feels like a mistake. That she knows, that at some point, that she became too much. She knew that. She was loud and intense and emotional and  —  they’d said it themself. Frightening. It was meant to be a compliment, and she’d even accepted it as one but she replays it over and over in her head. She’d felt too intensely, too quickly. She hadn’t been able to reel herself in, because when she had ever? She’s angry at them: for saying it was nothing instead of saying they didn’t want it anymore, for embarrassing her, for kissing someone else, for letting her believe there was some kind of future there. But mostly, Jillian is angry at herself.

There’s a cold, quiet intensity when she keeps her gaze locked on them, voice defeated when she asks:   “   There’s nothing to talk about.   ”   Her voice is cool too, unwavering even in its sound of exhaustion.  “  Because nothing happened.  ”  She turns her head ever so slightly, almost inquisitively, and something in her voice thaws. She’s halfway to begging for correction.  “  That’s what you said, right?  ”

[dcwdrops]

ART !

Art didn’t know what a mandate was, but he knew a thing or two about fun. When Jillian passed back the flask, he took his own deep swig. Before he could put it in his pocket, she held her hand out again. He didn’t hesitate to pass it back. Fun ingredient #1: Alcohol. “We should play games!” he declared once they got closer to the festival. They were the booths he saw. “Do they have prizes? I’ll win you a teddy bear. I’ll win you a million teddy bears.”

Fun ingredient number one, indeed. If Jillian was going to enjoy herself at all at during this festival, she would need some of Art’s flask and then some. After another gulp, she passes it back to him for real this time, as they approach one of the booths.  It is whatever kind of game Art would want to play! “  Well, the only way I’ll have fun is if you win me a billion teddy bears, so.  ”

[dcwdrops]

ANYA !

Anya thought for a minute. After all the years, she thought she knew Jillian, but she realized she didn’t really know what Jillian did now, after the accident. And she certainly wasn’t going to suggest Jillian paint anything related to her old sport. After a long pause, though, her face lit up. “Why don’t you paint a rabbit? You have a rabbit, right?” Even though she’d never seen him, Jillian’s brothers insisted Brioche was real. 

Jillian nods. It wasn’t a bad idea, but she’s not about to tell Anya that. She takes a careful scoop of grey paint, beginning to draw the outline of Brioche’s body. Not many people in town had met him, considering how reticent Jillian was to allow personal visitors, and the fact that she rarely took the bunny outside. She did love rabbits though. She works in silence for a few moments, not acknowledging Anya while she adds ears and a nose, and then there’s a tentative glance upward.  “  Are you working this all day?  ”   A beat.  “  Sounds like a pretty sucky way to spend the festival.  ”

[dcwdrops]

FINLEY !​

Part of Finley is waiting for Jillian to say something– to insult them, to call them out, to make her anger known. Something other than this awkward silence, this awkward calm-but-not-really-calm. Surely they didn’t know how to bring it up. How were they supposed to do that? Hey, remember when I completely broke your heart and betrayed your trust a week ago? Life, am I right?

So they stay silent, actively keeping their gaze from meeting with Jillian, placing all the seed packets in their place, getting more from the storage room, putting them up, repeat cycle. When they’re down to the last box, they finally spare a glance at her on the counter, clearing their throat to get her attention. “Uh– is there anything else we need to put away?” This was going to be a long shift.

She can’t help but be MADDER that they aren’t talking to her about it. The desire for a fight is there, an itch she can’t scratch, an annoyance and anger filled undercurrent she can’t shake. Why don’t they take the bait? Why can’t they start it? Jaw squares, and she makes one aggressive tap at the cash register, watching as the drawer pops open. She closes it again, and then hits the button, aimlessly, like she’s desperate for distraction.

“  No.  ”  Jillian says curtly, eyes still downcast. Then she looks up, eyes once more shooting daggers into Finley’s head.  “  In fact, you can probably leave.  ”  Unnecessary emphasis is a given.  “  I won’t really need you around here, so.  ”

[dcwdrops]

MALIA !

@dcwdrops​

malia was running the medical booth, as usual, right now she was currently helping a dehydrated kid that had fainted. “okay, okay, you’re good.” she said, her voice calm, even, monotoned. “i’m gonna have you sit up, yeah?” she had grabbed the water and gatorade from the cooler she had brought and unscrewed the cap to hand it to the kid. “drink this, and then drink this.” she patted their knee, getting up from the medical side before heading over to the booth side where there was games for kids to win prizes. it wasn’t the most fun booth, malia knew that, the prizes were ones that she had went out and bought on her own, with her own business card of her at home healthcare, as well as the nursing home she worked at, and zuzu city hospital where she did shifts at sometimes. to say malia was stretched thin today would be an understatement. “i want a drink so bad,” she whispered to herself, running a hand through her hair. she had stayed down, her knees jittery for being stuck in this booth for so long waiting for her shift change, she had heard footsteps heading up towards the front of her booth, she was already started talking by the time she actually looked up. “hi, you want to spin the wheel?”

Jillian was wandering rather aimlessly around the festival, drink in hand and trying desperately to block out the sound of laughter and people enjoying themselves — which is exactly as depressing as it sounds. She sees a familiar face, and offers Malia a nod when asked if she wants to spin the wheel. Carefully, she spins the wheels, spokes whirring for a particularly long time as she glances at Malia, and then back towards the wheel.  “  Any wounded soldiers back there?  ”   She asked, her attempt at sarcasm tinged small talk. It’s as good as she’ll get at it anyway, and it’s what she’d rather have right now than any attempt at trying to see how she’s doing. Carefully, the game comes to a stop. 

[dcwdrops]

ARDEN !

@dcwdrops​

arden was a little nervous about the festival. lots of people, she didn’t do well in large crowds out of fear and paranoia, but she knew that the valley was different. right now, she had a cotton candy, corn dog, and beer in her hands (because the beer is taking off the edge, the cotton candy is obvious, and the corn dog was a must) walking around looking at the different games and booths. honestly? arden was having a blast. she lived a life of never being able to go out in public in fear of being mobbed and harassed by paparazzi and now she was eating a bunch of deliciously shitty food she felt free. she knew that her dad had a booth out here somewhere, and she had been helping him man it before he eventually noticed how antsy arden was giving, the girl never being able to stay in one place for too long. she promised she’d bring him back some food but right now she needed to explore. arden had quickly devoured the food and headed over towards her first game, she had looked over at the person next to her and said, “okay, if i were to play this game and win, what kind of stuffed animal would you want?” 

Now that Iris was no longer attempting to ingratiate herself with the townsfolk by handing out petitions for roads or Joja reopenings, she was a little more short-tempered. Not in an angry sense, like temper really was — but in that she had an exceptionally low tolerance for things she did not care about. And one of those things she did not care about was festival prizes. She gestures to a little purple bear on the lowest shelf, the one easiest to win.  “  Think you can manage?  ”  She asks, eyes surveying the game rather than Arden. 

[dcwdrops]

ANAYA !

Again, Anya didn’t miss Jillian’s sarcasm. She just chose to ignore it. She ignored a lot of things. That was the way it was with siblings, and she tended to think of Jillian as one. “I wasn’t make fun of you. I think it’s pretty. Do you want to do another one? So you have more freedom to paint something you want? … Something G-rated?

If Jillian was a real sister to Anya, the way she viewed the other was more of a step-sibling you never wanted in the family, or a cousin you hated. Everyone else in the Mercer clan seemed to like Anya just fine ... but not Jillian. She tightens up a little, when Anya’s so nice to her. She’d certainly felt like she was being laughed at, but, then again, Jillian always felt like Anya was doing something against her rather than for her.  “  I don’t really know what I’d paint,  ”  She admits. She stares down at her finished piece. 

[dcwdrops]

ART !

Jillian’s complaining grinded Art’s gears – not as Jillian, but because of what she said. “No, you’re right. It’s not fair. We should have fun! We’re going to have fun!” he declared as he stood triumphantly to his feet. High off his own momentum, he headed back to the festival, gesturing for Jillian to follow. While they walked back down the mountain, Art took a flask from his pocket and offered it to Jillian for a swig.

Jillian was still a little tentative about the idea of enjoying herself. Usually what she liked to do was mope, not stick it to anyone by showing she didn’t care. Maybe it was time for a little change of pace. Jillian took Art’s flask gratefully, and took an incredibly long sip from it before handing it back to him.   “  What’s the first stop on the ... mandated fun agenda?  ”  She asks, eyes scanning their options as they approach the festival. She holds her hand out for the flask again. 

[dcwdrops]

JEMMA !

Jemma munches happily on a sweet she had procured from one of the booths, eyes wide and twinkling with excitement as she surveys her surroundings. It was her first time at an official Stardew Valley event since she moved back in January, and she was hyped to try out everything she could before the event ended. Once she makes her way past the various booths and stumbles upon the carnival games, she gasps and turns to the person conveniently situated next to her for plot purposes, “You wanna play a game with me?”

Iris did not want to play a game. However, it was rare there was a social event you would not find Iris at. Even if she thought it was totally lame. She’s mostly been occupying herself with the food and drink available at the festival, but now she looked at the game next to them — a typical game of getting rings over glass bottles.  “  I’m not really the carny type,  ”  Iris said, disdainfully, as if Jemma had asked her to take up a spot as a trapeze artist in a travelling fair. But another glance at it and she decides she doesn’t really have anything better to do.  “  But I’ll humor you.  ”

[dcwdrops]

When you heard my name You could be angry and have a good reason to be And then when I sang A horrible drunken parade of my worst thoughts I'd say, "Give me no sympathy" It's the mercy I can't take

[dcwdrops]

FINLEY !

If they were honest, any time they ran this scenario through their head, the only constant was that they got punched and/or slapped in the face somewhere throughout the encounter. Which they deserve, so they were less afraid that it’d happen and more preparing themself for it. Still, each time they thought about this moment, they could never come up with anything to say. Everything sounded wrong in their head, and no option felt like the correct one, other than having the ground swallow them up. Jillian would get a kick out of it, at least.

Even though her voice is oddly calm, it still makes Finley jump slightly, the seed packet in their hand falling to the floor. They look at her, and their mouth open and closes like a fucking fish out of water. This is your chance; say something! “Um– No, I– Sorry.” They fumble out half-heartedly, quickly averting their gaze and crouching to pick up the packet. For how confident Finley has always presented themself, they carry none of that in this moment. Instead, they feel… small.

Their reaction is disappointing. She wants a fight — she wants them to bring it up first, so she can act scandalized and wounded and like she hasn’t been playing out millions of versions of a confrontation. Like they haven’t dominated her thoughts since the moment she saw them kiss Sasha   —   and if you’re including positive thoughts, for months and months before that. She wants to throw something, or scream at the top of her lungs, a temper tantrum with the kind of childish language that’s the only thing she can articulate: you hurt me.

She scoffs, wordlessly, and places the jar on the shelf before retreating to behind the counter, where she busies herself by doing absolutely nothing. She sits, almost impossibly still, behind the register, the only movement her finger tracing one of the buttons on the cash register over and over and over again. 

[dcwdrops]

FINLEY !

For a moment, Finley almost thinks that maybe Jillian didn’t show up at all. Maybe she sent someone else to take over shift, or maybe she just left Finley to fend for themself today. But they glance at the call sheet, and her name is there above theirs, and they’re trying to find some semblance of courage within them, or whatever they can find to get them through the day in one piece.

But before they can find it, they hear a loud thunk, and they turn and see her, and… they should say something. But while they’re brain is scrambling for words that will never be good enough, she’s already throwing an order at them, and they just stare at her, mumble a small “Okay,” and dart into the storage room, where they have to take a minute to catch their breath, to get a grip. They eventually come out with a box full of packs of seeds, walking over to their spot and beginning to organize them. They still don’t know what to say, but their gaze still keeps shifting over to Jillian at the end of the aisle every few seconds, a lump caught in their throat.

The room feels like it’s shrinking every time Jillian sees, out of the corner of her eye, Finley looking at her. Maybe it’s the tension growing between them, or the fact that no matter how many times Jillian has run this scenario over and over and over again in her head in the past week since Finley left ... she didn’t account for how it would feel to see them again. She’s alarmed, mostly, by how upset she is still. Seven days isn’t a long time, but she’s also never been dumped before. It’s foreign, and it’s painful, and she doesn’t know how much longer it has to lasts, but she wishes it was just over. She wishes they were still gone, so she could watch the pain wither away in peace.

At the second glance in approximately five seconds, Jillian grips a jam jar in her hand so hard she thinks it might break, spinning to face Finley, an unusual placidity instead of fire to her voice.   “    Is there a reason you’re looking at me, or?   ”

[dcwdrops]

FINLEY !

( @dcwdrops ) Finley takes the route that allows them to avoid as much of the festival as they can on their way to the General Store. Their return was relatively quiet, as they wanted it to be. They had only texted Malia so they could leave some of their stuff at her house, but they weren’t ready to face everyone else yet. It’s Monday, though, and they have a job they have to go to. And they have to face the person that they’re most scared to face. They’re fine, is what they want to believe as they stand outside the doors, hands sweaty, mouth dry, heart trying to beat out of their chest and make a run for it. They’re already five minutes late, but it becomes ten when they spend five more minutes just standing there, trying to will their legs to move.

They do, eventually, slowly and painstakingly. Usually, they would have thrown out a greeting as they walked through the entrance. Usually, however, doesn’t exist anymore, so they’re quiet and jittery and nervous as they make their way to the counter, eyes darting around to see if they catch a glimpse of her.

It’s Monday morning, and Jillian barely looks up when the bell rings, though it takes all her self - control not too. It’s still too early for her to feel the obligation to glance up for customers. She’d been expecting them, their name written back on the little clipboard with that week’s schedule. She’d almost called out today, forced one of her family members to come down here and handle it. Handle them. But she could do this. She could confront them. She could—

She sees them, and she can’t. She turns around a shelf’s corner, placing one of the cans back on there. It all comes rushing back: the aching of her heart, the anger surging through her, the embarrassment. She places the jar on the shelf, a little too hard, and then stiffly, cooly, without greeting them, eyes shooting daggers.  “  There’s a bunch of seeds in the back that need to be put out. You can go do those.  ”  And then her back is turned to them again, placing another jar with a thunk.