Give you something good to celebrate. [Gathering; Pre-dated to 6/5/15]

[oddthatway]

Tris ought to know well enough by now that I never go back on my word, once given. Especially when it comes to something as important as celebrating her 19th birthday. (And I have no doubt her and Four will find their own ways to celebrate later, but I try not to think about that. For my own sake.) She also still doesn't know that this celebration is about far more than her almost not being a teenager anymore. I'm putting my all into this because, back home, Tris doesn't get the chance to live this long. Back in Chicago, the Tris I've left behind is resting in a morgue.

I have the living room all decked out because of the rabbit. While Tris still isn't here, I'll admit: the damn thing's cute. And at least Tris had the sense to get a pet with Dauntless colors. It makes the whole pet thing seem far less Amity.

I've worked hard, tying ribbons of various colors - vibrant, spring colors like sky blue and lavender - and balloons around every available edge and corner. Behind the couch, I've put a banner that I've painted myself, which is why the writing looks so sloppy. Again, I've used the colors of the ribbons and the balloons, to write a simple message of 'Happy birthday, old lady!'

Not that Tris is old at all. Far from it. But I can't resist a bit of teasing, even for my best friend's birthday.

On the table rests a cake I bought at one of the local bakeries, in the shape of a bird, with some berries on top. It's the kind of quaint that I think Tris will appreciate. Next to it, my gifts: a slinky, shimmery light blue dress, because one can never have too many sexy dresses, and the other, a beautifully designed knife with crows etched onto the handle of the blade. Both were hardly cheap, but for Tris, I would be willing to spend far more.

So now I'm waiting, pacing through the living room, adjusting the various decorations while keeping an eye out for Tris.

I've invited others, of course. It wouldn't do to just be the two of us. Slowly, I'm beginning to understand how much Tris' friends here mean to her. So I've invited as many people as I've been able to get a hold of. Now all I can do is wait.

Comments

[somepoorsoul]

Athos had not previously met the girl who left the note announcing the party, and had been inclined to ignore it at first. But Tris is a dear friend - like a sister, nearly - and his commonplace misanthropy seems like a poor excuse to miss her party. In tribute (and as apology, in light of his behavior during his transformation of the previous month) he has brought a gift: a light, well-made main gauche that he thinks would serve her well. He would like to get her a proper sword eventually, but that will require a proper sword maker, and more knowledge than he yet has about what she would want in such a weapon. With her lithe grace, Tris has a the bones of a born master of the sword. The knife will have to do for now.

Though unsurprised to discover not an alcoholic drink in sight, Athos is, admittedly, rather disappointed. He is apt to drift towards the corners of the room, anyway, and it certainly makes it easier to hide the periodic swallows he takes from his flask. When he sees Tris, though, his whole posture softens and he smiles, for he does appreciate seeing her so relaxed and happy. After all, she has not always been so lucky.

[oddthatway]

It's hard to miss the attractive man trying to blend in with the walls rather than socialize. He bears himself like a soldier; his posture reminds me of what some have called the lost Dauntless traditions. Back before Erudite corruption, when bravery meant honorable rather than merely daring.

Naturally, I have to introduce myself.

"I promise no one here bites," I tell him, figuring maybe a joke might help lighten his mood. "Well, that's a lie. Actually I'm sure everyone here does. But no one will, unless you tell them to."

I don't miss the flask he holds, nor the way he keeps sipping from it. I'm not one to judge, though. I've entertained the thought of getting stupidly drunk multiple times since arriving here.

"I'm Christina," I explain, extending my hand for him to shake. "I'm Tris' best friend from back home. I'm the one who sent out the invites."

[somepoorsoul]

Athos draws his eyebrows together, offering a dry smile in reply to the girl’s colorful greeting. She could not be more different from Tris - there is something of Allison about her, in fact - but he, of all people, should know how easily people of opposing temperaments might be drawn to one another. He is glad that someone thought to celebrate Tris, for he fears she is too modest to celebrate herself.

Handshakes still do not come easily to him, and he grasps the girl’s hand a beat too late, finishing with a small half-bow. “Athos,” he offers. “Tris is a neighbor."

[oddthatway]

"You have a nice smile. You should do it more often," I tell him before I can help it. Sometimes, my mouth speaks before I can consider what it's about to say. Especially with strangers. But it's true; even for all its wryness, the smile helps to enhance the man's features. I figure I'm doing him a favor, pointing that out.

I can forgive the late handshake because the man actually makes a half-bow. I raise an eyebrow. "Okay, dude. Where are you from that you still bow to people?" Tris has told me that this place brings people from all different times and worlds; I wonder where and when he's from.

"It's nice to meet you, Athos," I tell him. "So you're one of Tris' neighbors? She did advise me to have headphones ready because of all your noise."

[somepoorsoul]

She is not the first person to make such an observation about his smile - Porthos, in fact, enjoys reminding of as much as often as possible - though most are not so bold as to say as much moments after meeting. He rolls his eyes, though not unkindly, and clasps his hands behind his back. “France,” he offers in answer to her question, “in the year 1630. Things are rather different here.” Athos speaks the last at a deadpan, making the gross understatement into a dry joke.

He is about to make some mild inquiry about how the girl is settling in - contrary to popular belief, he can manage smalltalk if necessary - when her next words bring him up short. It’s one thing to hear jokes about Aramis and Porthos causing disturbances, but another to realize that one has, in fact, become part of the disturbance. Athos presses his lips together, and after a moment lifts a brow, refusing to be ruffled. “...Did she?"

[oddthatway]

I shouldn't delight so much in already causing someone to roll their eyes at me this soon after meeting them, but I can't help myself. I've only just met the man, and already, I'm giving him cause to make such a gesture at me. It might be a combination of my Candor and Dauntless upbringings; I do so enjoy raising people's hackles. Within reason, of course. I don't want him to actually hate me, after all.

"France? 1630?" I repeat. Our isolated education in Chicago barely acknowledged the rest of America, let alone the rest of the world. But I will admit that his accent is pleasant to listen to, even if I can barely comprehend the year he says he's from. "Well, that's...a ways away. And you don't say. I imagine you've had a bit of a shock." I answer his understatement with one of my own.

I have always been terrible at hiding my smirk; I don't even bother now, too openly amused by the cat-like arch of Athos' brow and the thin line of his lips, pressed together like a disappointed father. "She did," I nod. "And after a week here, I can see why. I mean, kudos, but damn is it loud for one apartment."

[somepoorsoul]

“Do you always pay so much attention to things that don’t concern you?” There is a blunt cheekiness about her that reminds Athos of Porthos in a surprising sort of way, and for that reason she amuses as much as she embarrasses. He takes out his flask and drinks from it, and after a beat, offers it to Christina. It seems only polite.

[oddthatway]

"I do, otherwise I wouldn't be alive," I answer, again honest, my mouth curving into a dark smile. Chicago, and the world beyond it, taught me that even the smallest detail, when ignored, could prove lethal. But besides that, the walls between apartments here aren't exactly thick. I arch an eyebrow as he drinks, but then he's offering it to me. I hesitate for a second before accepting, taking a quick swig of whatever liquid it contains. I hand the flask back to him. "So how do you know Tris, then?"

[somepoorsoul]

“She knew friends of mine first.” Friends seems particularly euphemistic in these circumstances, but his eyelash does not even flicker as he barrels past the smirk that he is certain is coming. “We were soldiers in France. I believe they recognized something in her.” Athos certainly had, once they had made their awkward introductions in the Bramford’s hallways.

[oddthatway]

"Friends, huh?" I say, arching an eyebrow. The smirk comes naturally, because the way Athos says 'friends' certainly lends more weight to the word than is necessary for actual friendship. "Some loud friends you have there." She will give him credit, though; the impassivity of his expression is quite impressive. "That would be the Dauntless in her," I say. "Taught us to hold ourselves to always be ready for battle."

[somepoorsoul]

Athos merely shrugs, still refusing to give way to embarrassment, especially in front of a slip of a girl he has barely met. Besides, Aramis and Porthos are friends, first and foremost. The rest is a happy but insignificant accident compared to all that was forged among them long before they began to share a bed.

“Are you also Dauntless?” Athos asks. It seems likely, considering her closeness to Tris.

[oddthatway]

His shrug is answer enough, and I decide not to press it further. Sometimes, I can be considerate. When the mood strikes. Which, admittedly, is not often. But he is a friend of Tris, and he shared his alcohol with me.

"I grew up in Candor," I tell him. "But yes, I transferred into Dauntless with Tris. That's how we met, actually. Just as we were about to jump off the train."

I can't help but smile, thinking of that memory now. Even, given the recent things I've seen in Chicago, if the memory makes me sad at the same time.

[somepoorsoul]

“Hence your exemplary tact,” Athos deadpans. He still knows little about Tris’ strange and unsettling world, but the nature of candor is simple enough to surmise.

“I suppose this train was another one of those foolhardy tests.” The more he learns about these dauntless, the less he respects them. It is one thing to try the mettle of one’s soldiers; it is another to drive them to foolish actions on the battlefield because they have learned that acts of daring are of the greatest import. Such a strategy can only end in death.

[priordivergence]

The gift in his hands is long and slender and it can only be one thing and I hurry over to greet Athos, a little bit unable to believe what he's brought. "Is that..." I start to ask before looking back at him and starting to smile. "Is that a sword? A knife?"

It's not as long as the sword I've used to practice with Porthos and Athos but it's definitely longer than the throwing knives I've used. Abnegation restraint keeps me from falling on his gift to take a closer look.

"Thank you for coming, though."

[somepoorsoul]

The hope in her eyes makes him smile, and Athos inclines his head as he offers her the gift wrapped loosely in brown paper. “A sword will require some more thought, but this should serve you well,” he tells her, ever practical. “Open it."

[priordivergence]

Curious and delighted, I take the present and peel back the brown paper. Immediately, I catch the glinting of light on metal run my finger against the width of the blade before finding the hilt under the wrapping.

"It's beautiful." Deadly, but graceful. I wonder if that's what he thinks of me. I hope so.

[somepoorsoul]

“Porthos and I will show you how to best use it at our next lesson,” Athos promises her. She has been training long enough to move onto something more complicated, and he has no doubt that she has the technical ability and grace to wield both a rapier and a main gauche.. That is her gift, as much as the knife itself.

[priordivergence]

It almost seems like another present in itself, the chance to learn from them again. I pause, looking at him uncertainly. "A different girl would give you a hug right now." But I am not an easily affectionate girl nor does he easily accept affection.

"Thank you."

[somepoorsoul]

“I thank you for your restraint,” Athos says with a flicker of a grin. Sheepishly, he remembers the infatuation he had swiftly developed for her when he was a youth. Had she been aware of his childish emotions? Now, the thought is strange, even ridiculous.

He offers a small bow, well aware that that is a ridiculous gesture as well - but it seems appropriate, somehow. “Bon anniversaire."

[priordivergence]

Our affections had been trains running on different tracks. Even now, I still admire him and remember my own shy infatuation before I'd realized his love for Porthos and Aramis. Then he'd admired me in a way I'd pretended not to notice, knowing he'd be his old self in a week.

I can't help but wonder what would have happened in a different world.

"Maybe someday, one of us will figure out how to like people. Do you think?"

[somepoorsoul]

"Alors, we must not aim too high," Athos replies at a deadpan, a smirk flickering at his lips. With a touch of a sheepish look, he extracts the flask he has brought from his jacket, and after taking a drink, he offers it to Tris. She will likely refuse, but it only seems right to share a drink on a comrade's birthday.

As for Athos, he is in particular need of the liquor to bolster his courage. He clears his throat after the significant swig of vodka leaves it a raw. "There is something I have been meaning to tell you."

Perhaps she already knows. Perhaps this humiliation is for nothing. But it seems only fair, somehow, to tell Tris of the changed nature of his relationship with Aramis and Porthos.

[priordivergence]

I smile at him but shake my head at the offered flask, certain he'd expected me to. We'd both understood the importance of the gesture, even if I didn't partake.

Then he goes properly serious and I look at him, nodding. "Go ahead."

I doubt there's anything he can really say that will surprise me. Maybe, a year ago, it would have shocked me utterly, but not anymore.

[somepoorsoul]

Athos takes another drink before slipping the flask back into his jacket. Though he has observed blithe acceptance of every form of dalliance since coming to Darrow, and never for a moment believes that Tris herself will disapprove, he still shies from the telling. Surely this is not something to be spoken of, every instinct and understanding of propriety tells him, and certainly not to a young woman. Not even one who reminds him more of his brothers-in-arms than any girl he has ever met.

“I wanted you to hear it from my lips before word reached you. If it has not already.” He looks away when he thinks precisely how Tris may have surmised the truth already. “Aramis, and Paris, and I… The nature of our friendship has changed of late."

[priordivergence]

"I kind of guessed." Not because of the sounds above me or because of a change in their behavior. It had been a change in the atmosphere when the three of them were present, a lack of tension in the air. "You seemed more at ease with all of them. Happier."

I offer him a small, hopeful smile. "Is it a good change? Are you happy?" I screw up my face and look at him thoughtfully. "As happy as you let yourself be?"

[somepoorsoul]

Athos can feel the heat on his face as he flushes faintly. By God, what a fool I am, he thinks, but he is smiling as he ducks his head. Instead of shame, he feels lighter for the telling, and Tris’ unconcerned and hopeful smile warm him.

He scoffs, though it’s a reasonably question, he supposes. “I…am,” Athos answers slowly, letting his mind settle around the idea. Happy. It is such a simple thing, and yet has been so often out of reach. Now, despite complications - despite the talk of children and his lingering fear that he cannot offer what Aramis and Porthos truly want - the word fits around him snugly as it has not in a long time.