2022-05-20 - Cloaks and Supervillain Monologues

A text flies to Una's phone:

>> Hey-hey! I'm in the neighborhood with some blueberries! I can't really think of a way to use them, but one of my regulars at the shop dropped them off to me last night. I'm going to drop them off on your porch, but I'll make sure to knock just in case you're home!

As such, Ariadne parks the car on the sidewalk outside of Five Oak. In the same lightweight sweatshirt Una had last seen her in (a deeper red with white piping the drawstrings) and jeans, the barista disembarks from the car with a Tupperware container in-hand. It's a three-quart container, so the volume of blueberries is an impressive one. She meanders across the lawn and then up onto the porch. Shave-and-a-hair-cut-two-bits is knocked on the door itself before she takes a step back to wait. She'll give it about two minutes or so and then leave the fruits there as promised. In the meantime, she eyes travel over the yard. A content sigh. Perpetual summer here is just delightful.

Recent events have proven that Una is not, in fact, always at home-- but she often enough is, and so it proves to be today. There's no read receipt to Ariadne's text, but within half a minute or so of the door knock, it opens wide to reveal apron-wearing, blue-and-purple-frosting-wearing, Una. (Granted, most of the frosting is on the apron, though that may well be a smear of it on one cheek too.)

"Ariadne!" she says, pleased and delighted, and perhaps the tiniest bit surprised (see above re lack of read receipt) but clearly only in the best possible way. "Just the person I needed to see today. Hello! Happy birthday." Her gaze takes in the Tupperware with its blueberries, but doesn't linger: she's focussed far more intently upon the other redhead herself.

Blink-blink from the barista in a second of surprise before she then laughs. "Oh my god, yes, right, thank you, Una." Cue the pastel-pink at Ariadne's cheeks in another heartbeat or two. It's clear that she's a little sheepish about the date. Observe, the Tupperware lifted in offering. "Brought blueberries because I think you and your wizardry can do better things with them. I can stick them in your fridge?"

Her eyes then strafe Una. Her smile pulls higher to one side as she meets the younger redhead's eyes. "Having a frosting war with the local ghost?" she then asks with a chortle.

Una's eyes narrow, though it's more affectionate than disapproving. "You've been spending too much time with Ravn, haven't you?" she says, with a hint of a tease. "And now you've sworn off birthdays altogether. I see how it is."

She could continue on that vein, inevitably, but she's been distracted by the promise of blueberries, her eyes lighting in pleasure as she gestures for the other redhead to come on in to the house. "I'm quite sure I can come up with some way of using them-- thank you. Blueberry scones? Or maybe some jam, and then... hm, well, I'll give it some thought."

That grin of hers may be intended to answer the question of her appearance, but the real explanation is easily concluded down the hall and into the kitchen, where the baker is evidently partway through assembling a checkboard mosaic of petit fours, alternating blue and purple.

Laughter peals out at Una's claim. The light blush doesn't go away either. "Blueberry scones would be amazing, I'm sure," she agrees as she steps into the abode. Following Una into her domain of baking magic seems second-nature at this point. "And ooh, those look familiar." Another grin for Una from over by the fridge. The blueberries get stashed away within and the barista walks over to the sink to do a quick hand-washing for habitual reasons.

"Love the color pattern." Wandering over to the table, Ariadne places palms on her thighs as she leans in to look more closely. A sniff-sniff. "Mmm, sugar," she grins before she glances at the younger redhead again. "Ravn's presents came today too, so if he thinks he's getting away without 'em, he's got another thing coming."

"Good," says Una, approvingly. "I know what he said, about not doing birthdays, but-- he can't escape you, and I don't think he wants to. And, of course, now that he knows about your birthday, I promise you're not off the hook either." Not with Ravn and not, given the way she's beaming, so smug, with Una either.

She pauses by the table, studying Ariadne as the other redhead examines the petit fours. "This time," she offers, "I cut them up yesterday, and froze them overnight, so the glazing was significantly easier." And is, thus, pretty tidy. "The blue ones are chocolate, vegan and gluten free, and the purple ones are are vanilla, and I'm hoping that covers all your coworkers and their various dietary requirements."

Ariadne laugh-mumbles behind her hand, "Oh god." Unable to escape Ravn and Una as well! Woe betide.

At the further explanation of the petit fours, the barista makes a pleased little lilt of sound. "Oh, you're so good -- thank you, Una! Yes, it so does cover the requirements, I know somebody's got a gluten intolerance, but I can't remember who. It's not the new girl, so it must be someone on the morning shift I don't see very often. They'll love it and they'll sure as hell know you made them. Get ready for someone to ask you about making something," the barista singsongs with a circled finger at Una and another chuckle. "I haven't heard from Ravn yet today though, so I guess we'll see what he's up to. I kind of can't wait and then there's the other half of me going, that man is waaaaaaaay more clever than he pretends to be, oh god." A shrug of both palms. "Do you want in on one of his presents though? You and I talked about it before."

Una is so pleased: just look at that smile, the one that makes it to her eyes and makes them gleam. "I insist on someone sticking a candle in one of them and singing to you," she warns. "I'd do it myself, but we all know that that is absolutely not something you want me to do. I hope they'll love it. That's the point, right?"

There's something a little smug about her smile when she adds, "I'm sure he'll have come up with something. He's inventive. Della and I were commenting-- it's difficult, birthdays early in relationships. Finding the right balance. Which is--"

Which is something that may have turned her cheeks faintly pink, but equally, something that will need to wait, because she says, instead, "Yes, I do want to know. Of course I do. Tell me all. Do you want cake offcuts? Coffee?"

"Like I could really stop you from singing." Look at her blush deepen just a bit. "And twist my arm for cake offcuts and coffee, gal-pal." Ariadne seems perfectly comfortable yanking a kitchen chair for herself and settling in, one forearm rested on the table at her angled sit. Her smile gains a squint. "I think you know either exactly what Ravn's up to or you have an idea...but I won't pry. He's probably fussing about it and I'm not going to be nosy. He's a doll."

A beat. "Who gets a new t-shirt or two. Remember the comment he made yesterday, about your 'kitchen cleric' shirt and my smart-ass 'marine biologist' shirt? Well." A tilt of the barista's head. "He gets a barnacle shirt because I will never let it die. Ever. Ever ever. Forever and ever, barnacles and their record-breaking dicks on his boat." Ravn, this is who you're dating. "And I found another one involving cats and reading and knowing things and it even had a black cat on it. On a black base. So much black. Kitty Pryde and all, right?" she adds with a grin. "So if you want in on it, speak now or forever hold your peace."

"If I did know anything," Una says, over her shoulder, since she's already turned towards the coffee machine, "the last thing I would do is spoil anything. You'll hear nothing from me."

The coffee's fresh brewed, or at least, it must be, because there's no way Una would serve anything less, and here she is, pouring it out into mugs (there's steam, so that's a good sign). She grins, though, pausing what she's doing in order to focus her attention back on Ariadne: so delighted. "Genius," she says. "Barnacles forever. And black cats, too; no questions there."

Both mugs are brought towards the table, though she hesitates a little in doing so. "In on it? You don't--?"

Una gets a gentler grin. "I mean 'in on it' like, if I tell Ravn you were half-responsible for the idea of the barnacle shirt -- and you were -- and he asks you about it, you'll be okay acknowledging that it was half your idea. I just acted on it because the shirts were on sale and why the hell not? I might add there was a pair of barnacle socks on sale too, but I wanted to off-handedly mention them in case you weren't sure if you wanted to get something yourself. It's totally up to you. I was there for that conversation. Ravn doesn't need all the presents. I figure it'd be something fun if you wanted to," Ariadne stresses just as gently.

Once she has her coffee, she sips at it. "I'm that weirdo who wants creamer, is there any in the fridge, perchance?"

Una's cheeks are pink all over again, and she clarifies, now, "I just... assumed you'd want to keep it as a gift from you. I don't know, would he be okay with me being involved? I don't have girlfriend privileges. I would want to get him something. It doesn't seem fair if you get gifts and he doesn't, when you're both my friends, I just-- don't want to make anything weird. We've just gotten over the weird, you know?"

"Creamer in the fridge," she confirms. "Help yourself. Grab the cake offcuts while you're there, too?" They're also in the fridge: a plastic-wrap covered plate of them. The bowls of leftover frosting are still on the table at least, just ready to be slathered on to cake bits by those who choose to do so.

"I see no reason why it would be weird! Besides, any weird can be avoided with, 'Look, Una and I had ideas, so here, enjoy, they'll be fashionable and keep your feet warm'." Rising, the barista goes and roots around the fridge to come up with both creamer and the cake cut-offs. "It really is up to you though, hon. Remember, I haven't bought the socks. If those should be a Christmas present instead? Or a random-throughout-the-year kind of present? Then that's what they should be."

Dropping the cake cut-offs at the table, she then doses her coffee before returning the creamer to the fridge. "But really, like I said, I am going to mention that you and I discussed the barnacle t-shirt at the very least. So it's not weird at all." Another smile for Una as she returns to her seat.

Una's expression is, at least, amused by now. "There's nothing in this world," she says, "that I can't make weird and awkward. I do take the point, though. Okay. You can acknowledge that we discussed it, and I will absolutely buy the socks, likely to be sprung on him at a random moment, all big innocent eyes and I-really-thought-you'd-like-them."

She reaches out to pick up a piece of cake, spooning some of the buttercream (pale pink in colour, presumably to offset the blues and purples of the glaze) on top, then pops it into her mouth. Chewing takes a moment, but only one, and then: "Do you want your gift now too? Or shall I tease you about it first?"

"Oh my god, please pull the big innocent eyes, I want to see what color Ravn turns." Ariadne chortles behind her hand and through a mouthful of frosted cake cutoff. She'd immediately jumped into the plateful and frosted up a piece. Her tongue is doomed to be blue by the time this visit is complete.

But Una's got her curiosity captured now. A wry grin around a sip of coffee. "I think the proper order is absolutely to tease first, so bring it on, kitchen cleric, we'll see if I can't figure it out before you put it on the table." A friendly challenge leveled at her fellow redhead before she giggles again. "Spoiler alert, I really have no idea whatsoever, don't let me bluff you into giving it away."

That baby face that Una has, with its chubby cheeks? It's well-suited to the big innocent eyes she deploys now, just for testing purposes. Just look at her. She may need to practice this a little more, though, because it wobbles and then falls apart: she's giggling madly.

Not, however, for too long; she covers her mouth with her hand, managing to turn giggles into something a little more arch, but unquestionably still amused. "Well yours also stems from a conversation had between us," she tells the other redhead, picking up her coffee cup. "In this very kitchen, even. Which-- is not much of a clue, really, is it? It's always this kitchen, or the front porch, or occasionally the back yard. We're very predictable."

"...well, shit, come on, I can't guess if it's something we talked about here because yeah! We're always talking here or the porch!" laughs Ariadne in honest glee. She rolls her eyes off to one side and appears to be thinking very, very hard. "Uhhhhhhhhhh." Drawing out the sound doesn't jog a memory either. More laughing from her.

"It's...a...book," she then guesses, eyes back on Una, half-funning and half-honestly curious if she can guess correctly.

"I never said I'd give good clues," Una points out, with a gleam in her eyes. "Or easy clues."

"In any case," she continues, reaching for another piece of cake, and some more frosting to dollop on top of it. Some of it nearly escapes to hit the table, and she rescues it with her other hand, then licks it off of her hand. Napkins are going to be required-- good thing there are some in easy reach. "It's not something you'd just go and buy at a shop. And... it's heavy. Am I helping even the tiniest little bit?"

Another sip of coffee wherein Una gets a contemplative look over the mug's rim. Squint.

Squint. More squinting. Another bite of cutoff with frosting smeared on it.

"...heavy, huh? And not something you'd buy at a shop. You made it then," the barista hazards, her grin growing slowly.

Una hesitates, then corrects herself. "Not something you'd buy at your average shop, anyway. Not in this town, and probably not in Seattle, either. Maybe an online shop, but that's different."

Her smug little smile-- and then nod that accompanies it-- confirms Ariadne's conclusion; her brows lifting in a silent question: more clues needed?

"Not your average shop in Seattle and online and you made it yourself and it's not a book."

Ariadne can't help smirking to go along with the squint. "...okay, I think I have an idea, but if it's that, I'm just going to squeal and then run around the house with it. I need your ghost to deal with it. Think the ghost can deal with it?"

"A gift is only a worthy gift if it makes the giftee squeal, and disrupts the local not-entirely-friendly-but-mostly-harmless ghost," is Una's opinion, declaimed around the rim of her mug with all the passion and enthusiasm she can muster. She is clearly excited about this gift, despite her efforts to restrain her excitement Just In Case.

"Shall I go and get it, so you can see if you're right, and we can risk this squealing?"

"Ohmygod, yes, please?" Ariadne all but twiddles toes against the kitchen floor as she sits up straight in her chair. She tries to control her enthusiasm by sipping her coffee, but it's plain to see that she has a suspicion and it's a big one and if it's that?

Asshole Irving's just going to have to deal with the squeal, as they say. Well, nobody says, but in Ariadne's case, it'll apply.

Watch Una beam. Watch Una slide off of her chair, lift a finger in a gesture that's clearly intended as 'one moment, please' and then disappear back down the hallway. She's not gone long, and when she returns, she's got a large, bulky wrapped bundle carried in both arms, which she offers, carefully, towards the other redhead-- carefully avoiding the table and its frosting and petit fours.

Has Ariadne guessed correctly? Inside the wrapping is carefully folded something made out of heavy, velvety fabric. It's not quite as dark a shade of purple as the redhead described being her favourite colour, but it's not too far off, lined in black, with a clasp in black woven with metallic gold threads. It's a cloak, of course, hooded and long: perfect for swooping in.

And Una? She looks like she's about to explode in anticipation.

Oh, one moment. Ariadne sits and makes herself eat another frosting-coated cutoff. And drink coffee. And sit politely like a mannered young woman should. Except she's just about to get up and start pacing when Una returns with the bundle.

Cue eyebrows lifting. "Ooh...?" Rising to her feet, the barista frets her bottom lip as she unwraps it.

Suck it, Asshole Irving, that's a SQUEAL. "Oh my GOD, UNA! EEEEE!" Hope you're ready for a hug strong enough to lift you up off the floor, Kitchen Cleric. "Oh my god, it's beautiful, look at it! Ahhhh!!!!" Fully unfurling the cloak, Ariadne then goes about putting it on and immediately pulls up the hood. "And it's a proper fucking hood, THANK YOU."

How to resist twirling in place? The cloak spins and clings and falls with in a sumptuous drifting of fabric. Ariadne turns and faces Una again and laughs more, fingers up over her mouth. "Una, thank you!!!!"

It's a good thing that Una took her apron off somewhere in there (she did, she absolutely did: it's there hanging off the back of her chair, and definitely not still covering her clothes, covered in frosting, as if she'd risk getting anything on her gift for Ariadne). For once, she's got no hesitation when it comes to hugs; for once, too, she seems entirely without second thoughts (or over thoughts). Instead, she just beams, outright clapping her hands in delight as the barista puts the cloak on.

"You're welcome," she says, with emphasis, smile all-but splitting her face in half. "I'm not even going to pretend to doubt myself over your reaction-- thank you, that's even more than I was hoping for."

"It's unbelievably awesome, what do you mean? Like, feel it! Well, I mean, you have, you sewed it together," laughs the barista before she does another experimental twirl. This time, it's with enough force to make the hem of the cloak ripple through the air. Another abrupt stop to feel it swirl around her legs and then fall to hang again. More giggling. "Oh my god, I can't believe I'm about to do this, but excuse me, I must go take some dramatic corners in my dramatic cloak to make do dramatic things."

As such, there goes Ariadne out into the hall with enough speed to make the cloak's trailing length furl behind her. Giggling can be heard. Another turn. More giggling. She then appears in the kitchen doorway with a portentous point of finger at Una. "Insert dramatic monologue here!" claims the young woman before having to double-over in laughter again.

Una waits, arms wrapped around her shoulders now as if she's hugging herself (hugging herself!) with glee as Ariadne takes off. The other woman's laughter is certainly fuel for Una's, her giggles escaping in blurts of happy, satisfied mirth. "You may need to work on that dramatic monologue," she admits, still laughing. "Practice in front of the mirror, maybe? But it'd better be a full-length one, for the full impact."

"I hope you wear it when Ravn gets his frock coat going," she adds. "For your sister. If it's not too warm, of course. You're absolutely ready to be a supervillain, or possibly a vampire, or-- well, anything you like. It suits you."

Beat. "Uh, not that you're a supervillain, obviously."

A beat.

"Ohhhhhhh my god, I hadn't considered wearing it with Ravn and his frock coat!!!!" A gasp. "Oh, you're devious, Una! The gothening. The gothening, it's going to happen after all!" Ariadne flicks back the hood of the cloak as she laughs and then pulls the cloak close about herself. "It's so warm too, ooh. Perfect for any Halloween party coming up too. I'll be properly mysterious! I'll work on my monologue too since I'll have time. I remember what you told me about my threatening Bond: Ari, you need a proper monologue."

Returning to her chair, Ariadne settles after tucking the cloak's majority of fabric behind her. "And I could be a perfectly good supervillain, thank you very much," she grins. More cutoffs for her.

Una? Devious? Surely not! Surely that smug little smile on her face is not an indication that Ariadne is correct. Surely not! "Pure coincidence," she assures, breezily, as she too retakes her seat. "Well-- in as much as no, I did not whip that up overnight as a result of that conversation." But she did make that comment with a certain gift in mind, clearly.

"Everyone needs a proper monologue at the ready," she adds, reaching for more cake, and washing it down with more of her coffee. "Most of us aren't really talented enough to monologue effectively without some preparation. I know I'm not, anyway. Maybe it's the kind of thing that comes with practice? You monologue enough that it comes naturally?"

She dips her chin towards Ariadne. "I'm sure you could be. I just don't think you've had that pivotal event yet that turns you into one. If it happens... I'm sure you'll be spectacularly good at it, I promise."

"Aw. I'm dubiously honored, thank you," and Ariadne cackles.

Just a little.

"Maybe I'll go supervillain and then anti-hero to just screw with people's heads. Here's hoping that pivotal turn event never happens." A lift of her coffee mug and a knock-knock on the wooden table against it. "It'd take a lot, I think. Well. Maybe not. Yes? I amend with, it'd take one really bad thing, I guess. Eh."

Shrug. There's more cake cutoff to eat. "Looks like I'm going into work on a sugar buzz. All your fault. And oh my god, I'm going to have to take pictures in the mirror back at the apartment and show my coworkers. At least one of them will be jealous. Ooh, and I can show Ravn, eeeeeeee." We're still thrilled, apparently. "And your birthday is in...September, right?"

"I'm generally opposed to the kind of bad things that result in supervillainry, so let's avoid that," Una decides, firmly, reaching for more cake.

She's utterly unrepentant for the sugar buzz, though, and the rest. "It'll just make the shift go more quickly," she points out. "And more fun. Besides, you couldn't possibly feed your coworkers cake you haven't tried yourself, right? It'd just be wrong." She doesn't comment on the showing of coworkers, or indeed the showing of Ravn, as far as the cloak goes, but her smile's still there, still so broad and bright and happy. Such a happy feeling.

"September," she agrees. "September 14th."

"Agreed." As to supervillainry and the necessary constituents of becoming as such.

"They'll be absolutely thrilled, Una, seriously. This is such good cake." More eaten to accent the point, though afterwards, Ariadne settles back with her mug of coffee. Maybe a short break from the sugar. But -- far easier to get this birthday from Una than expected! Out comes the barista's phone from her pocket. September 14th is thumbed into the calendar with a reminder set for a week before and away the phone goes again. "A nice long time for me to come up with something creative." The way Ariadne grins at the other redhead with a hint of cheek speaks to the fact that it'll be a playful present at the very least. "Are you a party person or just a present person?"

Una's flush, as she watches Ariadne take note of that birthday, is both pleased and a little embarrassed. Pleased, because who doesn't like knowing that their friends are taking note, eager to celebrate with you? Embarrassed, too, because-- because this is Una, and of course she's got second thoughts. "I don't mind celebrations, as long as it's not too much... everyone pay attention to Una. If that makes sense? Birthday parties, not really something that featured in my childhood."

Beat. "But I'm not like Ravn either, clearly. Anyway. It's not a big thing. Are you seeing your family for yours? I know you said you were putting off the family dinner a few weeks. I suppose it's Month of Ariadne." She's grinning again.

"How about this?" Ariadne's smile is gentler now. "I promise not to make a big deal out of it, but I might make you a cupcake and a candle and then get you a present. Nothing too much, but just enough! And no, not family this time, not immediately. I think maybe later in the month, yeah, or the start of June. I want some time to settle in still. Save Ravn from the enthusiasm, you know? They can be...a little much sometimes. You heard him talk about Ana. No joke, Una, no joke, she was a little much."

Or maybe it's that sibling lens which makes the enthusiasm more than it is at heart. Regardless: "You're not wrong though. We celebrate for the whole month if we need to. Life happens and sometimes, birthdays get celebrated earlier or later, but they get celebrated, which is critical in the end."

For a person who is-- see exhibit a: the cloak, the cake-- a little, uh, inclined to go big on the birthday front, Una seems relieved, and also pleased, by Ariadne's compromise, and nods firmly. "That's acceptable," she says, with a lilt in her tone that suggests she knows very well it sounds a little imperious to say it like that, as if this were a negotiation; it's funny, except she's not, this time, laughing outright.

"I can imagine that being... a lot, for Ravn, given everything he's said. So that sounds like a good idea, yes: give it some more time, settle in, make sure he's prepared. And you are. I imagine it's a big step, meeting the family. At least he's on board with teasing your sister right back; I bet that helps."

She considers her coffee for a moment, then turns her smile back on the other redhead. "I like that. It's not about the day, just about making sure everyone feels... seen, I suppose. Jules' birthday is next week. Della and I are going to take her to the day spa, and then out in the evening. Of course, I'll also be making her a mask for the ball; she can't escape gifts entirely."

"Ohhhhhh, I think that's great, Una! Spa day and something from the heart, since you'll be making the mask yourself. Geez. A++ roommates, the both of you. Jules will appreciate these things a lot. There really is something about a gift like that -- and this, because it means you listened." Fingertips tease along the hem of the cloak hanging off of her shoulder and Ariadne can't help the effervescently-pleased smile as she glances at it again. It's like she has to remind herself it's really there because dimpling is only the start of her delight in it (as shown earlier). "I'll have to see if I can think of anything fun for Jules. If I'm not fast enough or life gets in the way, the simple offer of a free cup of coffee on me is always a good way to go. She's in the coffee shop now and then studying for her class."

More coffee and then Ariadne sighs half to herself. "I...really do hope my family isn't too much. My sister is sweet, yes, and I think she's playing along to counter-yank our chain back, as far as the Twilight fan stuff goes. It's...my mom who's a lot. She...eh-heh." The laugh is ruefully sheepish. "So, she's from Hungary originally, so me and my sister, we're first half-generation American for it. Mom's got some of the older school ideas floating around her head. I have to admit, I worry that she'll see Ravn and start doing things like pulling out our genealogy or try to keep calling him by his title until he's sick of it. And she'd be thinking she means well even up to the idea of arranged marriages..." Mumble-mumble-mumble, that last part into her coffee.

Una's pleased; pleased, and probably a little proud, too. Still, "We're... trying," she says, which is a little less certain and a little more acknowledging that things have had their ups and downs lately. "But I... I like knowing I'm gifting things that show I'm paying attention. That said, Jules will absolutely appreciate even so much as a cup of coffee, I'm sure. 25th, by the way. That's her birthday."

Her smile is a little more crooked, a little more thoughtful, as she considers the rest of what Ariadne has to say. "Arranged marriages," she repeats, sounding just a little mystified. "That's a thing she would think? Is there... uh, context for that? Sorry. That's kind of a whole new world for me, right there."

Another quick showcasing of phone, more thumbing a birthday into place on the calendar, good to go. A reminder set the day before gives the barista time to scramble as need be.

Ariadne watches Una not necessarily carefully, but more quietly now for the other redhead's reaction to this information. "Ah, yyyyyes, context." Her lips press flat as she looks down into her coffee. "I am quite convinced that one time, back when I was about your age or so, my mother did attempt to arrange a marriage for me. I don't think my father thought she was serious until I came home to visit for summer break and I was introduced to Dmitri as my future fiancé. Dmitri was the son of a friend of my mother's, where we weren't friends but we were...I mean, yeah, we were friends, but we didn't go to school together, for example. One of those guys who was easy to get along with. I don't know how my mother and his mother got to talking, but she...straight-up ruined that friendship for me. There wasn't any recovering from that, especially when Dmitri later revealed he was in on it. And...nobody asked me. So." A hard huff of a sigh and shake of her head with closed eyes. "I'm nervous as fuck to introduce Ravn."

Una reclaims her coffee, but let's be honest: Ariadne has her whole attention as she listens to this story, and the coffee? It's nothing more than a prop. "Oh," she says, finally. "Oh. Shit. That must have... shit. No."

That's sympathy-- no, outright empathy, probably-- in her expression, and in her voice. "I'm sure it comes from a place of love, but... that must be hard, balancing your mother's traditions with a more American upbringing. And Ravn... particularly for Ravn, since he deliberately wanted to try and get away from all of that, right? At least, when it comes down to it, Ravn wants you." She very likely does not mean it in a biblical sense, here. "And he'll put up with a lot in order to keep you, okay? He's... fuck, he's so smitten. It's adorable. So he may not always be wholly comfortable, but I don't think you need to worry about him running away or anything."

Ariadne's smile is a little tremulous by the time Una is done talking. She still ends up looking down into her coffee again and laughs. Smushing a palm back along her cheek -- like that's going to make the pastel-pink blush go away -- and back into her hair, she blows a sigh of forcing composure back into place.

"I...really needed to hear that, Una. Seriously. I know I live in my own head with my own lenses." When she looks up at Una again, it's with a much quieter and yet more intense gratitude. "To hear somebody on the outside who's very, very attentive to things like that say that Ravn won't run? I really needed to hear that." And we are not going to choke up on our birthday, no we're not. Ahem. Clearing throat. "I think we can do uncomfortable, that's fine, and even if it turns out to be some...minor clusterfuck, I mean...it's family. Life will go on and I'll still have them. Maybe Christmas dinners are just shorter or something. It's just...he barely has a family to start with. I want him so badly to feel safe with mine."

Una's got a flush of her own, though that's about as frequent as taking in breaths of fresh air for the younger redhead, so no surprise. More important, maybe, is the acknowledgement of her expression: the slow-but-deep nod, the seriousness of her gaze. "He won't run," she reiterates, allowing the corners of her mouth to rise again. "I can promise you that. I think... I can understand why it stresses you out, I think, but I don't think that necessarily means that it needs to. Maybe it's tricky at first, but I think that's probably normal? The point is: your family loves you, and they want to see you happy. And you are."

A broader smile, now. "And Ravn wants you to be happy, and you are. So that means the rest of it... it'll work itself out. It's going to be okay. Ravn's not going to run. I get the impression... maybe a year ago, maybe it wouldn't have been okay. But he's learning how to be with people, and to be cared for by people. So it's going to be okay. It really is, Ariadne. I promise."

"I reeeeeeeeeeeeally want it to be okay," the older redhead creak-laughs in agreement. Another hard puff of a sigh. "Right. It'll be okay. We'll be fine. My family will be my family and we'll weather whatever happens because you're right. Even if it stresses me out, they do love me and I do love them, even if they drive me batshit-nuts."

After she emerges from her coffee, Ariadne gives her hostess another intensely-grateful smile. "I know I'm sitting here fretting on my birthday, but thank you, Una. Again. Thank you. The day is better because you've got your own brand of sanity and I needed to hear it. I can do this. Yes. I'm still waiting until after the ball to see about meeting them in Seattle, but I feel better now. I don't feel like I have to come up with some sudden excuse anymore."

Una's smile, by way of return, is unquestionably warm. "That's my job," she says, as if half her life isn't spent stressing herself, and others, out more. At least she can offer this kind of peace of mind for some things, if not everything. "Seriously, Ari. It's absolutely going to be okay. You can absolutely do this."

By way of palette cleanser, "Have you a costume all worked out, for the ball?"

A curt nod. "I can do this," Ariadne agrees with the younger redhead. She seems grateful enough for the conversational topic shift, however, and relaxes back more against the chair -- and into the cloak in turn. Someone's definitely in love with the garment.

"I have, actually. Here, let me find the inspiration for it..." Oh look, phone again. Setting aside her coffee mug, the barista frowns down at the screen as she types and scrolls, eventually coming up with an image. "This one here. There's no way in hell I'd be able to pull off anything identical, I've only got so much of a paycheck, but I've got most of the little pieces and Ravn said we'd go thrift store hunting for the other parts. I've got the corset piece on order. It'll get here before the ball." What a delightful froth of feathers and white silken sheen and general sweetness. "I'm not hiding my hair, so everyone will probably know it's me, mask or not. But a self-rescuing Swan Princess. Or...what did someone else call it. Harpy Queen of the Sea. Black opera gloves and all. I'll even have a short sword at my hip," the barista laughs.

"Oooh," says Una, leaning in to get a better look at the image on display. "Oh, you're going to look amazing," she says, very happy to leave behind the more serious topics and focus, instead, on this (and on cake: she's reached again for another piece, this time aiming specifically for the vegan, gluten free chocolate cake, which is surprisingly tasty and spongy under the circumstances). "I love a good self-rescuing Princess. And there really is something about... just for a day, being a princess. Or a queen. I can't wait to see it all come together."

Ariadne beams. "It'll be good. I've got ideas for Ravn too, since he asked me for some. We'll see how they go over. I don't expect him to be up-front and center at this whole shindig, but if I can get one dance out of him, my night is really complete." Her phone goes away in order for her to take up her coffee mug again. "And you know I'm going to ask you what your costume's going to look like. If you don't have pictures, describe it? Also, I intend to ask you and Dita to dance, so you're forewarned."

Eyebrow waggle -- and the barista will likely follow through on the forewarning.

"I have no doubt he'll be willing to do one dance for you," insists Una, smiling. "Even if he'd rather cower in the corner after that. I'm right there with him; I'll keep him company, if you want to social butterfly."

That's not an indication of 'no, I won't dance', though she's perhaps a little hesitant anyway. "I haven't worked mine out yet, but I know I need to. Dita's going to go big, of course, and if we're going to show up on a platonic date..." The idea makes Una smile; it might even go so far as to make her giggle, except she's too busy with her coffee mug. "I'm not so sure about my secret self. I'm not sure I have one. I'm just... me, you know?"

"I'd appreciate it if you kept Ravn company. You know how he doesn't like the spotlight." Ariadne means both things kindly at heart. She is, after all, the far-more outgoing between the two of them.

A nod and a grin in response to Una's smile in turn. "I think that's half of the fun about this, yes. If you aren't sure about your secret self? Showing up in whatever you show in is at least part of your secret self, in a way. It's the part of you you're willing to show off in good company. Dita is no doubt going to take it to level ten and I can't freakin' wait. It doesn't mean you won't look absolutely gorgeous in whatever you choose though. Dita doesn't strike me as the kind of person to make a friend feel smaller on a platonic date."

"Of course I will," comes without hesitation. "Ravn and me, we understand each other. Not the way you two do, but..." There's still an understanding there.

"Mmm. Yes-- Dita's going to look spectacular, and while I have no doubt that she'll over-shadow me, I don't say that in a mean way, or imply in any way that she'll be aiming to make me feel smaller. She just is, in a way that I am not, and that's fine. I intend to bask in that glory, you know? And hopefully feel good in whatever I end up with. I keep thinking back to that dress I wore in that Dream, in the Casino. You remember? Before I set it on fire. Something like that, to make me feel beautiful."

The dress in the Casino.

Ariadne squints. "...shit, I'm blanking on that dress and I feel like an asshole for it. I do remember the fire though, so what the fuck with my memory. Can you look up something similar to it again, maybe? It was red? Er, no, mine was red. Yours was red too?" There was something about her lipstick as well, but the barista never figured it out. It's all partially hazy at this point and it's likely because of the Veil itself. Damnit, Veil.

"It was blue," says Una, and there's absolutely no indication in her expression that she's disappointed or frustrated by Ariadne's lack of recollection. "And it was the most beautiful thing I've ever worn, which-- well, that's not surprising, is it? It's not as if I've had many occasions to wear fancy ballgowns, or, until recently, the budget to do them well. It doesn't matter; the point was, I remember enough to know that I looked amazing, and that means I can look amazing again."

She casts a glance down at herself, her t-shirt covered chest and the curves of her body. "So I just need to find something that works with my shape, right? Because this is who I am, and that's maybe no a secret, but--" But maybe it is, too.

"Blue..." murmurs the barista to herself. A sudden snap of fingers. "Yes, blue." There it is, the memory, fished up out of the mire. She tilts her head and smiles half to herself at her friend across the table.

"The fun part about going on a platonic date with Dita? I bet she'd help you find another blue dress if that's what really floats your boat -- and she's very aware of how to dress in order to fit a body shape. I've been shopping with her before, it was absolutely fun and I highly recommend it. I have a few new things Ravn hasn't seen yet." Just for a second, Ariadne smirks as if quite pleased with future proceedings; but she doesn't linger in this moment. "I have the sneaking suspicion that whatever you choose? You're going to rock. I might even wolf-whistle at you because I'm a little shit." Una gets a friendly wink before the barista laughs into her coffee mug.

"I'm sure she would," agrees Una, which is probably code for 'but I won't ask'. That doesn't mean she's not grinning, though, even if there's the hint of a flush there now, too. "I'm sure I'll find something amazing. I do want to look amazing. I do. This is-- our opportunity, right? To cast off our usual selves and to be fabulous, just for one night."

Beat. "Wolf-whistles and all. I'll take it. Because I do intend to look amazing, and I know you're going to as well."

Ariadne just grins all the more. Permission to wolf-whistle is apparently granted. Oh dear.

"Well, since we're both going to look amazing, we might as well break some necks, yeah? I'll definitely have to take you and Dita on a spin around the floor if I can manage it. I've been watching YouTube videos in order to learn a little bit more about waltzing and stuff and the lead half of things doesn't look too difficult. Do you know how to waltz at all...?" she then asks of Una with another one of those little avian-like cants of head.

"Not even a little," admits Una, with a little wry laugh. "I might be able to shuffle along the floor a bit, just enough to count as dancing. I'm not very coordinated."

She's not even a little coordinated, let's be honest.

"But that's fine. The point is to-- do all the things, right? So I'm going to do all the things. Like Prom, but for a cause. And with less acne. Look-- it's going to be fun. Whatever we do. Whatever we wear. I'm looking forward to it." Her smile is indication of that: she's going to the ball, and she has a (friend) date to do it with. Happy days.

"It's going to be fun, absolutely, I demand it as Harpy Queen of the Sea. It'll be my first edict: thou shalt have fun and woe betide those who are fuddy-duddies or fun-suckers or deliberate assholes." A grand wave of her hand then, elbow-elbow-wrist-wrist. "Working on my princess wave, I'll have that shit figured out by the time the ball rolls around," Ariadne then laughs. "And waltzing's not too scary, I promise. Ravn taught me a bit of it before I starting haunting the YouTube channels. We'll shuffle with charm is what we'll do."

It's apparently a plan -- and so are other things, like potentially thrifting. There's Ariadne's phone again with her calendar out. So much to do! -- and thankfully, enough time to do it -- and maybe wear the cloak to it, who knows, it's such a charming new addition to her garmentry in general. Happiest of birthdays thus far? Yes indeed.