Archive of Our Own ^beta

"He is actually here because of you, isn't he?" Chilliwack asked as she and Eris once more sat across from each other at the dinner table.

"Yes." Eris resumed eating her cow. Drifter's ghost, along with her cloth-wrapped orb, sat in her lap. Artemis lay quietly at her feet. Drifter had called the meat 'prime rib beef.' It came from a cow so in Eris' mind it was simply 'cow'. A rare thing since the collapse but no need to complicate it further. He'd recommended she would like it and he was not wrong. The horseradish sauce was an unexpected pleasantry and mixed very nicely with the gravy and the almost… muddier tastes of the beef.

"If they end up stopping something from happening, we're all going to owe you both an apology." Chilliwack said.

"Yes," Eris said after she'd swallowed her mouthful of meat.

They ate in silence for a while, keeping watch around them, waiting for Chilliwack's ghost, Frey, to return. Every once in a while Eris looked across the way to see Drifter and Aunor standing together at the bar. Drifter was conversing with the bartender.

"I never met Eriana," Chilliwack said.

Eris tensed.

"But I read her journals and listened to the recordings recovered from the Hellmouth," the Warlock continued. "We all did."

Eris regarded Chilliwack silently over her wine glass as she took a sip of the deep red liquid within it, letting it roll around her mouth as Drifter had insisted would make the meat taste even better. It did. She felt a small tug within her. Disappointment. She wished he was with her now to share it even with their odious unwanted dinner company. Perhaps they could seek it out again in future to share it properly.

Or make it. He probably could make it. It would necessitate obtaining cow, which was a ridiculous expense and a very large animal to kill for one meal. Perhaps there might be additional food remaining after such an ostentatious feast. The preparation for this event had been extensive. They likely had several meals in reserve. Drifter would know how to contact the people who ran the kitchen and find out.

"Is it true that… she haunts you on the Moon?" Chilliwack asked from across the table, interrupting Eris' musings.

Eris blinked all three of her eyes and took a moment to consider whether or not the question deserved an answer.

"The Nightmares on the Moon are not the true essence of those they represent." Eris explained cooly. "They are conjured from the depths of our own minds by the Lunar Pyramid… false distortions of memories sent to prey upon our deepest regrets. Eriana is among mine, but that is not her. She is at rest now… and, with the mementos recovered for me by the Guardian, I have been able to make my peace with the Lunar phantoms. They no longer torment me as they once did. They are instead simply memories of a time long past and their presence, while once insufferable and overwhelming, has become… considerably more tolerable to me over time."

"If someone were to visit you on the Moon would they be able to… speak to her?"

"No."

Chilliwack nodded and waited a few moments before continuing. "I've read your letters regarding your use of the Darkness in the Hidden archives."

Eris ate in silence as Chilliwack awkwardly spoke every few moments to fill the awkward lack of table conversation. Eris had no issues with awkward silences. It was something the Drifter had reminded her of when they were preparing for the evening, that other people would be more motivated to speak to fill emptiness in conversation than she would, and that this was a point of strength for her. One that she could leverage if she so chose. Eris chose to do so now and was pleased with how uncomfortable this seemed to make the now-solitary Warlock. Eris nearly felt sorry for her. Nearly. Without her friends, Chilliwack was almost tolerable.

"Morg does not speak for all of us," the Praxic Warlock continued after another long silence. "There are many in the Praxic Order who have called for your death because of what you have done."

Eris sniffed the air dismissively.

"But I don't think any of us would be alive now if it weren't for you."

"Correct." Eris chose to speak. "You would not."

"Aunor is convinced the Drifter is corrupting you."

Eris sighed deeply, her expression that of deep boredom.

"But that's not it, is it?" Chilliwack continued. "He's… just another person in the long line of people that you've saved… isn't he?"

Eris regarded her critically from across the table. Perhaps a small amount of straightforwardness was warranted with this one.

"No." Eris said simply and firmly.

"No?" Chilliwack looked disappointed.

Eris met her gaze. "We saved each other."

Chilliwack bit her lip clearly processing the genuine honesty and slight vulnerability in Eris' statement. Then she nodded. "I'm glad you found each other," she said after a few moments.

"As am I."

Eris looked from her plate to the three empty bowls of soup in front of the Drifter's chair.

“Fancy party like this is a great way to get shot, especially the kind of shot that turns ya all green and nasty and permanently dead.” His statement from earlier echoed forth in her mind.

Eris looked to him at the bar. He was laughing and joking with the bartender while Aunor glowered and kept her eyes on their target at a point Eris was unable to perceive. Eris' alien eyes watched the practiced ease with which Drifter leaned on the bar, excessively relaxed. He was performatively jovial, wearing the mask of the meretricious rogue, a behaviour she knew he slipped into most often when he felt wildly unsafe.

Eris looked around. Everything she noticed reinforced blatantly his position was exposed. He had no cover. Were an experienced sniper to fire at him now there would be no possibility of missing.

Eris returned her eyes to her plate and attempted to concentrate on the meat she was slicing. Her cuts to it with her steak knife were methodical and precise.

She looked over to his empty seat once more, her eyes now seeking a specific object and, not finding it, Eris found herself mildly soothed. Quickly she looked around at the other place settings at the table.

She and Chilliwack were the only ones still in possession of their steak knives.

This would do nothing to protect him in the event of a sniper shot but the fact that the knives were gone and Eris knew exactly where they were caused the corner of her mouth to quirk up into a small smile.

She made a mental note to ask him later if the Praxic steak knives were more prized because they were, as he would undoubtedly put it, a bigger pain in the ass.