[open] never meant to start a fire

[lowtohigh]

It could have ended a few different ways. Nearly all of them would have been a victory. Only one or two of them would have been this.

Eileen had almost assented to chess, this first go around. She had contemplated the odds of staying in place unchallenged long with an initial foray based solely on mental agility, just as much as she had contemplated wandering across traditional Suit lines toward something like throwing daggers or poker. It had all ultimately fallen away, leaving her with just the one choice.

Her biological father's first challenge had been a knife fight, Tobias told her once.

Scherma fights haven't been particularly vogue in the Clubs since the late 1980s, but it isn't difficult to find a Four willing to take her up on it. (The Threes had all been wary. Most of them were young enough to have had an otherworldly sense about her their entire lives--or to simply be petrified of the concept of the King's daughter Challenging them at all.) Sergiu Somma is of the slightly older guard, after all. He's also more than a head and shoulders above her; already not bad odds for a weapon that relies so much reach.

She doesn't ask for a big crowd. Rachel and Elisha are quietly invited, of course, with the grim sort of determination that's been settling into Eileen's features more firmly every day for the last year. Kevin is asked to be a referee. Her uncles are informed, almost in passing, certainly without any proper intention that they'll actually find the time (or allow her cousins to attend). It's mentioned exactly once without a proper date or information to Ethan and Elani. It's assumed that Julien will appear if he wants to.

It's a delicate dance to tell Leigh and Jake it's happening. There's a stumbling rush with both to explain they don't need to come, and that she'll tell them all about it after; and that this is the way things just have to be.

Eileen still likes to wear her hair fairly long, but it's pulled up tight today in the sort of bun that makes the eyes water slightly. She still likes to wear skirts and pastels, but today her slacks are long and everything's black, apart from the pink ribbon winding her hair so tightly to her head. (Her mother would say the crease in her brow is her father all over, but her mother isn't here to take note of it.)

Somma looks as unconcerned as ever when they take the small pitch. Eileen looks as much like a quiet mask as she has in years.

The points of the stiletto knives are slightly blunted, the ends dipped in rather neon paint to catch where the point would have burrowed into flesh from a proper hit. It's meant to be as calm and civilized as this sort of thing can get--first to five touches, no actual blood.

And of the many ways it could have ended, most of them would have stuck to that ambition.

The first point goes to Somma; a sharp jab at her shoulder where she loses her footing just slightly in balzo. Her own first point follows quickly, blade twisting around abruptly in her hand into a pakal grip for what would have been a deep wound just above Somma's hip. Her next point is imperfect; glancing against the ribs as she barely ducks below his own swing down toward her shoulder. His next follows quickly as he catches her tempo and his blade catches her arm.

And it's just a little too hard, apparently, because the blunted tip doesn't prevent the fact that the lime green streak marking his point is slashed through with a thin line of blood.

A piece of her knows that it could have been fine. A piece of her admits that it could still have been a civilized bout the rest of the way up to five. But something in her (something Spade, people might say; something survivalist, something purely angry) won't let that be the case.

She barely waits for the next whistle before she leaps in, catching a point against Somma's other hip. Her silence gives way to a snarl when he anticipates her next feint and his blade catches her wrist as her own finds his ribs. There's a certain severity to the silence between them as Kevin hesitates, exhales, and finally blasts what seems as if it might be the final whistle.

Of the one or two ways it could have gone wrong, this one feels easier to live with.

Because this one neither of them see coming, even as Eileen evades Somma's first broad slash, even as his wrist catches hers briefly like an odd sort of parry, even as she ducks again to slip past his next offensive strike. Neither of them expect it when they briefly step back into a careful circling; neither of them know it will happen when she makes her dart forward.

It's smooth and elegant as she feints left, drawing a fluid forward strike from him. It's graceful as she leaps nearly even with him, blade twisting again in her hand as she swings it down at his back. And it's brutal and ugly that the way she plunges the knife bounces just wrong off the bone of his hip, snapping the blade slightly and letting the momentum of her strike dig the proper broken edge deep into his side. Instinct takes over the minute she feels the give of flesh, and the sharp twist she gives pulls an anguished shout from Somma's lips.

The whistle sounds distant as she wrenches herself from the pitch. She hears Kevin somewhere distant telling her it's all right now. She senses the damp towel thrust into her hands, fingers moving mechanically to handle the blood she hadn't realized was there.

It isn't such a big thing, in the grand scheme. It's a pretty good scratch, Somma chuckles as he shakes her newly-clean hand (and it's such an odd sensation, two damp and sterile hands briefly clutching together). It's probably not going to kill anyone, a medic reassures as he begins hustling Somma toward the surgery. It isn't death. It isn't a terrible accident. It's just that it is enough to leave an odd taste in her mouth while she wonders why it isn't such a terrible thing that it should have been nothing and now it's stitching up a few organs.

Her feet find Elisha first. There's no help for it. Rachel will be next.

Despite that, there won't be words quite ready when she goes to find Jake. It feels a bit like searching for an apology she isn't sure is necessary and feels fairly certain won't actually come.

Comments

[thecutdiamond]

Argine isn't here to note the familiarity in the crease in Eileen's brow, so Rachel notes it for her. Edgar isn't here to be proud of the fight in his little girl, so Rachel is for him.

Andrew isn't here to soothe her nerves, so Rachel is the one to step forward, arms open in offer for a hug.

"All right, little one?"

[lowtohigh]

Her lips press firmly together for a moment. Her entire being holds itself tight and close for a heartbeat. A tiny piece of her feels an impossible gap between the Two who could easily slide into her aunt's arms and the Four who's just wiped blood off her hands.

Thankfully, it all folds quickly enough. Her shoulders slump as she lets herself slip forward to burrow against Rachel's shoulder and clutch tight to the embrace.

"--I don't know."

[thecutdiamond]

"That's okay," she says softly, holding the girl close, "You feel whatever you're feeling right now. It's all right."

[lowtohigh]

"I don't-- know, though. What... I'm feeling."

It helps to have Elisha's voice still gentle in her ears. It helps to bury her face against Rachel's shoulder. It's just that it doesn't settle the emotions any more solidly into place.

I AM HERE. HELLO. (Emperor is in his traditional spot of laying on my wrist)

[cipherspeak]

Knife fighting had been the challenge that had earned him the rank of Ten; something Elisha , had, in retrospect, only gone after for the sake of the girl in front of him. At the time he'd claimed it had been because he needed to do something in the wake of the tragedy. He'd claimed more privately, to close friends, that it was because he hadn't trusted Alexander. Both of those things were true.

But really, it had been for the girl in front of him.

He knows better than to reassure her that Somma will be alright. She knows that. That's not what's got that look in her eyes. It's hard the first time you hurt someone. It's harder the first time you intended to.

Instead, he reaches up and loosens the pink silk ribbon a little. "That's going to give you a headache if you keep it pulled back too long, princess."

/HAPPY SCREE (AND OBVIOUSLY HAIL!)

[lowtohigh]

The release helps. The careful tugging at the ribbon begins the delicate crumbling of her shoulders. The immediate proximity of Elisha begins the heavy dipping of her head.

The passivity of having someone else in control, even briefly, even for something so small as loosening her hair, lets the hurt lodged in her heart begin to relax very slightly.

She means to thank him, but all her lips can manage is a very small, "--I did all right?"

[cipherspeak]

He winds the ribbon into a small coil and tucks it into his pocket before he tucks Eileen's loose hair behind one year. "More than alright," he said. Julien - and naturally Julien was lurking around somewhere - was undoubtedly pleased at this performance. He'd been Eileen's first instructor in this. Elisha had been the one who preferred t teach her to paint watercolor jellyfish.

"You did extremely well," he says, before smiling crookedly. "The aftermath, though. That's tough, isn't it?" An understatement, for him. The violent challenges he'd done - only two of them - had kept him up late at night until he could tuck the reactions away again.

[lowtohigh]

It's easier to focus on his hands. She knows his hands, after all. She knows them covered in paint and covered in dirt and constantly reaching out when she needed them to keep her upright. Watching Elisha wind the ribbon up brings a sense of reality back into her bones. She can hear the continued hum of the room (there were somehow many more people here now than there had been a moment ago). She can feel the dull throb in her arm where her own skin had been nicked (there had been some clever medic, apparently, slapping a bandage quickly on the cut before turning to Somma). She can't quite suss out what's throbbing in the back of her mind yet, but that will come with time.

If there's relief for feeling that Elisha is proud of her, it's doubled instantly by the easy recognition of whatever it is that's keeping her head slightly bowed. For a moment, she ducks her head even lower before managing to bring herself into properly nodding. "I wasn't... expecting it. Not-- this much."

Not at the challenge obviously. But later.

[headfollowheart]

News always travels quickly across the Deck. There have likely been a large number of people peeking into see the former Ace, now a Four. Zoë Fox comes later. She's left Talulla at Spade Castle to be spoiled either by her father or Declán, and she's walked to Club Castle for a visit.

Zoë pauses in the doorway of the reading room Eileen likes at the Club Library, one hand pressing gently against her lower back - Talulla's upcoming little brother isn't as active as she was, but pregnancy is still no picnic, and sometimes her glowing expectant mother mask slips a bit.

"I hear congratulations are in order, Miss Four," she says when Eileen looks up. The glowing expectant mother bit is back. It looks more genuine for once, thanks to to real smile.

Presumably someone gets her calmer by later. Presumably.

[lowtohigh]

She hasn't pulled her hair back up. It hangs absently around her face, long and loose and obviously protective. It's still clearly not what keeps Eileen from noticing that Zoë's appeared at the door for a few heartbeats.

But what has blocked out notice doesn't seem terribly permanent. Eileen's features don't turn shining, but she does brighten a bit as she sets down her book and drags to her feet.

"Something like that."

More in order, clearly, would be a slightly careful hug.

/thumbs up /it probably was the cat

[headfollowheart]

None of her challenges have been especially violent. It was counter to Charlotte's expectations of her daughter when she'd been a Heart, and the most martial she'd done in the Spades had been her own challenge for Four. Archery was deadly, of course, but there was a certain distance to it.

In an archery challenge, all that got pierced was the target.

Still, violence, drawing blood, put cracks in the most experienced fighter. She'd seen it with her father. Victor didn't let much of it onto his face, but there were times when she could see him quietly resettling himself. Even if in her husband's case, she suspected it was less because he'd hurt someone and regretted it so much as he'd hurt them and enjoyed it.

Zoë hugs Eileen back, smiling a little as she leans back. She can dance around a subject all day. There was a reason David nominated her to be liaison to the Arcana back when they'd been around. A reason she'd been able to deal with Sieben Dietrich even when she hadn't liked him much. But she's learned to be blunt, too, and Eileen's probably had enough dancing today. "How are you doing now?"

do you mean 'the true king of clubs' or

[lowtohigh]

Every hug helps a little. Every hug, after all, settles her bones more thoroughly into themselves again. Hugs from people who weren't even present--but who know her, who care about her, who have always been perfectly happy to see her regardless of rank--certainly help most of all.

Which is part of what keeps Eileen stuck half-close to Zoë's side when the older woman leans back. The other part, of course, is for slightly pleading little tugs to make Zoë come sit down with her.

"--better." Which in and of itself is multifold, for better or worse. "It's... starting to feel like I can be-- proud. Of moving up."

[wilderhearts]

Jake wasn't really sure what to expect from this, Eileen's Challenge. Although two years older than the former Ace, he'd never bothered to Challenge in his own Suit; as long as he had his horses and his few good friends, all was right in Jake's world. Not Deck-born, he'd never associated Challenging with status, not the way others seemed to.

But he did understand that a Challenge was definitely a Big Deal, and when Eileen had stammered that hers was coming up, Jake had nodded quietly, then nodded a bit slower when she all but insisted that he didn't have to come if he didn't want. Which meant that she did really want him to come--he'd learned a few nuances of Eileen-Speak over the years.

So he arrived just as the first whistle blew, making him flinch just a bit at the harsh, loud noise. But it didn't take him long to find an unobtrusive, relatively hidden spot from which to watch, feeling a bit of a lump rising in his throat to see his girlfriend so focused on the enemy? in front of her, and noting with more than a bit of trepidation how expertly she handled those knives in her small hands.

Afterwards, when she'd won and others had approached to congratulate or comfort--he wasn't entirely sure--Jake hung back, not really sure what he was supposed to do now. He wanted to say something, to let her know she'd done well or something, but he just couldn't get the image of the look upon her face as she...hunted, that was the only word he had for it, her adversary in the Challenge ring. It was a look he really hoped he'd never see on her face again.

Ever.

[lowtohigh]

He hadn't been in the small crowd before things started, and Eileen had decided to feel relieved about it in the back of her mind. She could tell Jake about it later. She could ease over some of the sharper points. She could let it be a small, quiet thing that didn't dig under his skin the way it would dig under hers.

But she couldn't help seeing him there in turning from Elisha to Rachel. Her eyes had such a funny trick of finding Jake whenever he was in the room, after all; a very particular focus on keeping her boyfriend in her sights, half-protective and half self-preservation.

Her hair had been pulled down from its bun by the time she drifted properly over to Jake. It helped, being able to fidget slightly with pushing it back behind her ears, getting it tossed back over her shoulder, before her hands had to simply drop into the uncomfortable wringing behind her back that always came with uncertainty. Most people had looked pleased, after all. Most people had at least looked proud in the hard, silent way Clubs so often did.

Jake just looked uneasy.

She meant to thank him for coming first. Really, she did. But something had been disconnected in her brain between the end of the bout and the quick swipe of a cloth to get the blood off her hands that made it difficult to formulate the words.

"It's..."

It's good to see him. It's over now. It's the way things are done here and she's terrified that going a different way will make the road she's on impossible.

Her gaze stayed stuck to the ground near Jake's feet. "...we're-- okay?"

[wilderhearts]

Were they? Were they really? A child of abuse, Jake had always shied clear of the more violent goings-on here in the Deck, preferring to remain as far away from such as it was possible to be. But Eileen had asked him to come, in her roundabout way, and since his arrival here, this was the first time his inherent instincts had been overruled by emotion.

Jake wasn't entirely sure what that really meant, to be perfectly honest.

Not one given to thoughtful introspection, Jake usually operated on feel, much the same way as his horses. He didn't have Eileen's talent for personal analyzation, he simply trusted his gut and just did what felt right. This... This definitely had him uneasy, and then some.

It had been the blades in her hands, to start; and the flash of horrible realization--could she ever turn them on him one day?--that had widened his eyes and shortened his breath. The rest had only reinforced that silent terror, until his polite expression felt no more than a mask.

He wanted to offer some sort of reassurance; after all, she once again looked like just Eileen, but the words weren't there. All he could do was just stare at her for a breathless minute or so, then lower his gaze to her own shoes and shrug the right shoulder in uncertain hesitance.

[lowtohigh]

"...oh."

Reading Jake had gotten easier over the years, of course. There was a certain amount of focus needed to do a good job--a high level of attention to the little ticks, shifts, and starts that couldn't be casually glanced at yet. Her mind slightly clouded, it didn't come through with the same general clarity, but the shrug was surely loud enough.

"...can..."

She shouldn't have asked him to come. She should have let him know it was happening and then let it hang without any sense of obligation attached. She should have cut this out carefully and dissected this piece of herself entirely from their friendship.

But that wouldn't have been her. That wouldn't have been her anymore, oddly enough, than this Challenge had been her. There was somewhere in the grey that felt difficult to articulate but important to share all the same.

It took another few heartbeats of not quite being able to look Jake in the face before she could take another stab at words.

"...can we-- talk, though? Maybe... outside?"

Away from this space. Away from the odd oppression of the castle walls. Somewhere green and quiet and less full of the awareness that she had spooked the hell out of one of the people she cared the most about in the Deck.

oops

[alwaysmessedup]

He wasn't at the Challenge. But he's heard enough about it by the time he crosses paths with Eileen a couple of days later. Which is why he makes such a show of looking her all over and up and down when he sees her. Quite intently, in fact.

nO <3

[lowtohigh]

It's sitting a little easier with each day that passes. It's becoming a piece of her as naturally as her own skin is knitting back together into a thin scar she's certain will fade just as naturally.

There's still some amount of brittleness in her shoulders, but to be fair, that might just be from running into Justin. "What?"

[alwaysmessedup]

"Wondering where the terrifying she-devil I've heard so much about is hiding. They say you practically gutted him."

Some stories grew larger in the telling over a few beers. Or when certain people decided to exaggerate for effect. Or both. Probably both.

and this, but elani definitely did up her hair beforehand

[theacethatmatters]

Julien was at the Challenge, but he hadn't moved down to speak to Eileen after it was over. Had in fact, done whatever necessary to make his presence as little-felt as he could. It was entirely possible that the only person there particularly aware of the Spade's presence was Elisha.

But his appearance the next day likely isn't much of a surprise. "He pricked you, didn't he?"

Congratulations on the win are implicit. He's here, isn't he?

yes good \o/

[lowtohigh]

Of course Julien had been there. It didn't matter that she hadn't seen him in the odd blur of faces that came after shaking Somma's hand, and it didn't shake any of the certainty in Eileen's bones that he had watched from the first moment to the last.

It's still an odd relief to see him. It's still some small, uncomfortable weight off her chest that--despite the lack of formal praise--something more approving than not has clearly brought him back again.

"...a bit." The bandage isn't even visible beneath her sleeve. "I... barely felt it."

Which had been somewhat terrifying, although she's sure she doesn't need to say.

[theacethatmatters]

"You felt it enough," he points out, tilting his head a little as if that gives him a different perspective to view her from. "You certainly repaid him with interest."

Julien's tone is blandly neutral enough to make it anyone's guess whether he's approving of that or not.

room for one more?

[cutslikeaspade]

Surely she didn't believe he wouldn't find out. And since it was family--such as family was these days--Ethan had of course attended the Challenge and watched as Eileen proved her mettle. He naturally noted the smooth way her small hands held the blades, the firm concentration across her young face, and he even spied something even more hauntingly familiar emerge when Somma barked in pain from that particular strike. Like recognized like, after all. Unfortunately, Ethan couldn't remain and offer the customary congratulations; his office beckoned at all bloody hours of the blasted day. But the following morning, he deliberately left his door open and made a point to be comfortably ensconced behind his desk updating paperwork he'd been putting off for weeks...just in case a certain visitor might decide to stop by for a bit.

Always room for Ethan \o/

[lowtohigh]

She lets Elani braid her hair the next day. It still hangs long down her back, uncoiled up into its usual bun, but more snug and secure than the looseness she had needed after the Challenge itself. It feels like a step in the right direction.

It doesn't remove, of course, the tight sensation keeping her shoulder slightly stiff as she slips down the halls in Spades. It's a very different thing, after all, to be at home or to be at another castle. It's a particularly different thing to be in Spades, where the glances have less understanding sympathy and more amused approval.

Walking past Ethan's office is pure habit whenever she's passing through. The open door slows her pace unconsciously, bringing her to a halt at the door itself. Her fingers catch at the frame without truly breaking the plane.

"I'm a Four now."

Maybe he had heard. Maybe he had been there--half of the day is still indistinct and far away in her mind. It still bears stating before she gives herself a little push to walk off again in deference to the paperwork.

yey! <3

[cutslikeaspade]

The quiet step was familiar, the voice even more so. Hearing first the former then the latter, Ethan looked up from his keyboard with a sincere smile, giving an approving nod. "So I know. You did very well, tesora." He leaned back in his office chair, beckoning an invitation. "I was impressed." There was of course a chair nearby, or even a knee, were she so inclined. But to his credit, Ethan had never really 'babied' the former Ace--but his shoulder was always open should it be needful to lean. "Does the world look any bigger, then?" The gentle teasing was compulsory, however. And always given out of true familial affection.