#v; dmain

[historiesandmemories]

@kingoftheravens​

'Come with us to Washington,’ Yaz had said, ‘It’ll be fun,’ she’d said. Delancourt had believed her when the young woman had invited her along on the trip to tour art schools for Mia--after all, new skies were always alluring--but as the once and possible still queen tromped through the underbrush with her small telescope strapped to her back, she doubted Yaz’s trustworthiness. The park by the apartment the trio was staying in was full of people, night and day, and the further Delan ventured, the more the trees arched overhead, blocking the stars she so longed to see with their thick canopy. Trees, the bane of her stargazing existence. This is why she liked her observatory.

Hiking up her skirts to step over a fallen tree, Delancourt paused briefly. She’d been walking for ages now, and, if she was honest, she was far further from the apartment than she’d meant to get. The way back was...fogging in her mind at best. But that was a problem for later. By the stars, she was going to stargaze out here, even if that meant tromping out into the woods alone.

The trees began to thin as the sound of ocean waves filled her ears. A bright smile curled her lips and she picked up her steps. Within a few seconds, she emerged onto a bit of a cliff overlooking a rocky beach. Dark sky soared overhead, stars speckled across the inkiness. “Finally,” she sighed.

Setting her scope pack on the ground, she was just beginning to take it out to assemble it when she became very aware of another presence nearby. Standing quickly, Delancourt turned in a flurry of skirts and curls to find a man nearby. “Hello,” she called warily, “Enjoying...the view?” She hadn’t expected anyone to be out here, not this far. And yet...

“I was just going to set up a telescope for some stargazing,” Delancourt explained, “If that wouldn’t bother you?”

[historiesandmemories]

continued from here with @starlyht​

Delancourt watched her friend carefully as he spoke, biting her lip as if the pinprick of pain could be the release for the worry flooding her veins. There had always been a sense of discomfort, of carefully parsed words keeping back some greater truth with Mal. She’d noticed it back in Revur once she’d started to get to know him better, but she’d never put too much stock in; plenty of people acted like that around the queen. They wanted to be liked by royalty. But that always felt odd from Mal. He didn’t seem the type to necessarily want to courier favor through sweet smiles and deception. But now as she sat across from him at the island in her kitchen, she felt it was something more. 

The once and possibly still queen glanced down at her cup of tea as the mage spoke. Of course, he wanted to carry whatever it was himself, no matter how much he sagged under the weight. But he didn’t have to. By the stars he didn’t. She was willing take it, any of it, share the load. And if there was anything she could do these days was keep a secret.

“Mal, I don’t want to push--” she didn’t but she was going too, “--but don’t you think you might feel even the slightest bit better if you shared whatever this is with someone? It can’t be pleasant to walk around with a secret.” She certainly didn’t find it enjoyable. 

Looking up once more, she fixed her constantly shifting, blue and purple eyes on him. “Whatever it is, you can tell and I wouldn’t judge. Not ever.”

[historiesandmemories]

starter for @magicallyimpossible​‘s Twelfth Doctor

It was late, but Delancourt hardly seemed to notice as she sat poised before the eyepiece of her telescope, starring out at the stars. They were so distant here, cold and dull. Back in Cacadia the stars were so close you could almost touch them, running your hands through swirling galaxies and gather planets into your arms. She missed that.

The once and possibly still queen drew back from the telescope just as the ground shook and a loud bang filled the air. She grabbed the railings of the stepping ladder, stabilizing herself for a brief moment before the world seemed to still once more. Once she had her footing, she launched herself off the ladder and towards the door, taking the spiral steps down the observatory tower two at a time and praying she didn’t step on her skirts and go tumbling to the ground.

Coming out into the garden, it became evident something very wrong had occurred. There was overturned dirt and bushes, flower petals scattered everywhere, and amid it all there was a man. The sight of it all stopped Delan in her tracks. Her mind struggled to catch up, make sense, but it wasn’t doing so well with that. She wanted to ask what was going on, where this man was from, what he had one to her garden, but none of those questions would leave her lips.  

Eventually, a couple words stuttered out of her mouth, “Are you okay?”

[historiesandmemories]

@mxnstrxsities​/ welcome strater

Delancourt drummed her fingers over the hard top of her notepad and watched the clock hands on their slow journey around the clock. Visiting archives had been the theme of the week. She’d been in search of documents on dark matter work, much of which was apparently hard to get to. So she’d been sent from one archive to another, held on endless phone class as archivist after archivist tried to see what documents had what releases and if they matched her research needs. Usually, the answer was, they didn’t and she was once again out of luck.

But then, she’d been given a tip and ended up here...wherever here really was. She’d been sitting in a rather uncomfortable plastic chair, her notepad folded into her lap, her backpack at her feet, and the growing wish that she’d brought a jacket despite her almost full length sleeves. But she needed to find these papers. She needed to understand what Fritz Zwicky had done.

As someone entered the room, Delancourt took to her feet, cradling her notebook against her chest. “Hello!” she beamed, “Are you Avina Lu?” The name came hesitantly, as if she was uncertain about its pronunciation. “I’m Delancourt. I called about some papers?”

[historiesandmemories]

you’re my best friend. you always have been. -lara

The smile that crossed Delancourt’s face was equal parts bright and bittersweet. She set her tea cup down gently and reached across the small table they were sat at in her dining room/kitchen and took one of Lara’s hands in her own. “And you have always been mine,” she said, “I realize I should’ve said that long ago,” There were so many things the once and possibly still queen should have said to many people, and she regretted every single missed opportunity, “or at least told you how much I enjoyed your company, especially at all those boring balls where we would smuggle far too much food into a corner to snack on in hiding.”

Delancourt sat back slightly, unclasping Lara’s hand but still keeping a light hold of it. “I am ever so lucky to have the chance to tell you that you meant so much to be. I thank the stars you are still in my life, despite everything.”

[historiesandmemories]

“See you soon, probably!” (Liaxee for Delan)

A visit from Liaxee was always good. It was impossible not to smile when he was around, with his big voice and hearty laugh. Even his leaving wasn’t sad. Everything about the man was just so cheerful.

Delancourt was perched in her doorway, waving goodbye. “Yes, see you later!” she called. But as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she realized he had tacked a ‘probably’ on the end of the sentence. Probably? “What do you mean probably, Liaxee?” 

[historiesandmemories]

“ just rest, i’m here. ” (famine or delan from bringer or liaxee. You have no idea how tempted I was to say 'imagine if the goose could talk.')

The adrenaline was still racing through her, but the farther they got from the event, the better she was feeling, if only because she was better able to distract herself. Delancourt had gotten cleaned up, cleaned the blood from her face and hands, put on a fresh dress that wasn’t speckled with red. It helped her forget what she’d done. But the moment the hint of the memory slipped back into her head, she felt like she wanted to wretch.

She was sat in the middle of her bed when Bringer walked back in, hugging one of the many pillows she decorated it with. Armand was curled beside her, his head resting on her knee. He sat up slightly when Bringer spoke.

“I don’t know if I can,” she whispered, “I’m worried if I close my eyes I’ll just have to relive that over and over again.”

[historiesandmemories]

“ you’re afraid. you worry that you may have made the wrong choice. “ -mal @ delan

The anger that had been boiling in her veins and singeing her words froze cold as Mal spoke. She turned to face the older man, looking through hazy curls pulling loose from a messy bun and blinking past tears that were suddenly biting at her eyes. It never ceased to amaze her when Mal could see right through her, even at times she couldn’t see through herself. 

There was a silent moment as Delancourt sucked breath back into empty lungs and considered his words. “Wouldn’t you?” she asked, “Wouldn’t you if you’d left an entire world to it’s likely doom with hardly a fight?” Though what could she have done, really? Delancourt was hardly a fighter, she wouldn’t know the first place to start, but she could have at least tried. 

The tears were falling faster and the once and possibly still queen turned her back on Mal once more and hastily swiped at them. “I should’ve done better, Mal.”