Summary:Christmas for the dating damsels. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
Related LogsTheme SongNone |
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It's Christmas morning at Sarah's apartment, and the past hour or so, since Pris arrived, has been filled with fun, delights, and love as the two of them have exchanged gifts. Now, Sarah returns from the kitchen, carrying two refilled flutes of champagne, and sets them down on the coffee table before retaking her seat on the sofa next to her girlfriend. "I have one more gift for you," she says, her smile carrying just a hint of… shyness?
For Christmas, Priscilla showed up at Sarah's apartment in Brooklyn early - but not too early - in the morning on the day, having spent the night before with Emma and Sharon. Already revealed during this morning's gift exchange have been:
A t-shirt with a small baby on the front and "I'm the babe with the power" on the front. On the back a near-full-size bust of Pris with "The power of Voodoo."
A platinum necklace with a series of tiny bronze gears as decoration. The note with that one says: "You make my heart explode. But with joy this time."
And lastly, for Jonesy, a catnip-treated stuffed purple dragon.
Pris can feel Sarah's nervousness, which she finds both adorable and curious, as they are almost never nervous with one another. "OK?" Pris offers, tilting her head to the side as she regards the beautiful Brit. "How should I reassure you?" she asks openly; the perils of dating an empath.
Sarah's other gifts for Pris had included a white fluffy robe much like the one of Sarah's Pris often borrows while staying over, but more in her size — much as Sarah didn't mind how short hers was on Pris when she wore it, this will be much more comfortable for the taller woman.
A 'gift card' redeemable for one date in which Pris gets to make all the decisions, as to where the couple goes and what they do.
And a pendant bearing a small-but-brilliant teardrop-cut diamond on a white gold chain.
In answer to Pris's question now, Sarah hands her the remote to the entertainment system, and says, "Just press Play."
Pris tilts her head back the other way, regarding Sarah curiously. Still, she takes the remote in hand, and then takes one of Sarah's hands with her other, giving it a warm, reassuring squeeze. "OK"
That said, Pris turns around, facing the entertainment center, and scoots over to tuck herself around Sarah. This is the preferred position for watching 'Media' here.
"Three. Two. One." And Pris hits 'play'.
The soft jazz versions of Christmas tunes that have been playing in the background fade away, as the big screen comes to life.
(The image fades up from black, to show Sarah, from the shoulders up, with a plain white wall some indeterminate distance behind her. She's wearing a simple sleeveless black dress, her makeup is impeccable and understated, and she's smiling warmly at the camera. She begins to speak.)
"Hi, Bae. Merry Christmas."
"Almost nine months ago, when I arrived here in New York, I was ready to take on a new assignment. My secondment to WAND by MI-13 would give me the opportunity to follow in my brother's footsteps. To see what he had seen, go where he had gone, and to take up and continue his work. Since then, I have met people who knew Simon, I've worked with people he was close with, and I've visited places he wrote home about, or sent photos of. He loved this city. It became as much home to him as London, in the end, I think."
(She pauses, bringing her right hand up to brush back some imagined stray lock by the side of her face, before continuing. Her movements, her body kinetics, suggest that she is seated, rather than standing.)
Pris cuddles the real Sarah close, watching and listening intently. She knows Sarah had a brother, and that Something Bad happened. More she does not know. Not yet. But she nods, clearly actively listening, fully engaged in experiencing what recorded-Sarah has to tell her.
(On the screen, Sarah continues.) "I was having a harder time with that. Maybe because I couldn't stop feeling this was his place, and I was only following where he had led. Story of my life, right there. Following my brilliant big brother, looking up to him, trying to be like him. And because of all that, of knowing all that, I was resisting thinking of this place as home."
"But then you came along."
(The camera starts to pull back, and move to the right — Sarah's left — as she turns her head to continue looking into the lens.)
Priscilla gives Sarah's hand a gentle squeeze of reassurance; it can do nothing for the woman in the recording, transcending time, but it is offered anyway as a means of silently communicating her feelings. She is glad to know her presence may have helped Sarah feel more at home here in New York.
Real, here-and-now Sarah snuggles against her beloved, trying to calm herself, to banish her worries. It's almost working. Meanwhile, the Sarah on the screen continues:
"They say home is where the heart is. And thanks to you, that is now here. With you. Loving you. Being with you. There is nowhere I would rather be, than where you are."
(As the camera has moved, more has become visible. It can now be seen that Sarah is seated at a baby grand piano, black lacquer gleaming under the lighting.)
"So this is for you, Pris, my love, my angel, my comfort, my refuge. Merry Christmas. I love you."
And she begins to play, and after a few bars of an introduction, lifts her voice to join the rich sounds of the instrument. And it sounds much like this: https://youtu.be/npF9vorHL0A
Priscilla watches, and listens, sniffling softly as she nestles against the real Sarah and is gently wowed by the performance of the recorded Sarah. "That is amazing, honey." she offers, as the song winds down and fades away. She turns, and kisses Sarah tenderly on the forehead, and then on the lips. "You are my best Christmas present." Then she grins impishly. "I should totally tie a ribbon around you."
At the end of the song, the Sarah on the screen turns and looks into the camera again, smiling a little crookedly, eyes maybe on the verge of happy tears. Wordlessly, she brings the fingers of her left hand up to her lips, kissing them before turning that hand toward the lens, gesturing toward it just before the image fades to black, and then text appears:
Christmas 2019
I love you.
Sarah says, "I was hoping you wouldn't think it was too sappy, or…" She lets out a breath that's mingled with a half-laugh. "I'm sorry, I get a bit daft with worry sometimes, but you knew that." The relief coming off of her is clear, even mingled with the intensity of her other emotions. Her own devilish smile blooms as she adds, "And you totally could. The ribbon, I mean."
Priscilla just leans in and kisses Sarah again. "I'm an empath, honey. Nothing is 'too sappy' unless it is disengenous. This was not. You never are." And then she starts plucking at the other woman's outfit, as if trying to find the strands of the ribbon to tug and set her 'free'. Or maybe just to tickle her playfully.