Work Text:
Immateria laps at Margarito Nava’s overall cuffs where xe stands in the dugout. The thick, glittery sheen of fog is ever present– especially now– as their home game against the Fridays rolls into extra innings. They all know better than to ask Brock to throw a game, so one of them will have to score eventually or decidedly hurl themselves into the undercurrent.
As Brock returns to the dugout, Margarito keeps a trained eye on the field in case a teammate– anyone gets swept away. Jaylen hits a ground out, swaps for Silvaire Roadhouse. Prior to the election, the tension in Silvaire’s hands was always noticeable. Now as she wades through the immateria with an eerie calmness and a straightened spine, she looks closer to a predator than prey.
Silvaire makes contact with the ball on the first swing. It’s a clean catch in the infield. The umpire calls a ground out by Beck Whitney. The box announcer calls a mark for incineration.
Thorned vines of instability pierce Beck’s right palm and shoot through her entire arm and torso. Beck seizes and crumples on the field. She would be lost in the fog if it weren’t for the pulsating lavender glow. Silvaire's back is turned before the Fridays can take account of what happened. Jacob Haynes spares no second judgement as he runs onto the field, but even then, the closest he can get to her is home plate. Jacob hits a single, but Chambers briskly snuffs it out.
The next inning, Beck Whitney struggles to stand upright as she readies her bat. Everyone pretends to ignore the charred smell in the air.
Play continues.
─•~❉᯽❉~•─
By the time the Peach Blossom Boutique’s movie party comes to a close, it’s the middle of the night. Popcorn bowls and plastic cups with Sharpie scrawls are the remains of collateral that comes from fitting an entire blaseball team into one’s apartment. Most of the older crowd has already said their goodbyes prior to the second movie feature, but Beck remains soundly passed out on Bryanayah’s couch.
Jorge taps Margarito on the back as he passes by, hand lingering on xir shoulder. “I’m gonna go heat up the car. See you down there in a few?”
Xe poorly hides xir grin. “Sure thing.”
Jorge winks before shutting the door behind himself, leaving Margo to clean up.
Xe stacks several glasses and bowls in xir skilled bartender fashion before heading towards the kitchen. Bryanayah is already there putting away food items. She quietly closes the cupboards.
“Hey Margo,” Brya whispers. “Could you do me a favor?”
“Yeah, what’s up?” Margo attempts to deftly place several bowls into the sink without too much clattering.
Brya peers back into the living room with an air of fondness. “Could you make sure Beck gets home safe? I would let her sleep here, but I only have a twin mattress.”
“Of course,” Margo assures. Something about her tone sticks with xem. “Need help with anything else?”
“Nope. Just that.”
Margo doesn’t bother waking Beck. Xe simply scoops her up in xir arms as Brya holds the door for them. From the look of it, the rest is sorely needed.
“Have a good night, Chang,” xe says over xir shoulder.
“Yup.” Brya yawns, rubbing her eyes. “Seeya tomorrow, bright ‘n early.”
─•~❉᯽❉~•─
The locker room is quiet and grim. Nothing like how it usually is after a rare win. Several peel off their wet uniforms into the laundry bin and leave without saying a word. Dunn and Brock talk in hushed tones about next week’s forecast. Jacob can be heard making several phone calls in the connected corridor. Jaylen, on the other hand, hasn’t been seen for the past hour, but her #14 jersey sits emblazoned on the pile.
Margarito enters the locker room after everyone else, weary and soaked. Margo opens xir locker, looks at xir hair in the mirror. Xe pulls at a grey hair, and another, and another before realizing xe would go bald if xe continued.
Silvaire finally speaks up. “I didn’t know she was your former team captain. I apologize.”
It takes a moment for Margo to realize the comment was most likely directed at xem. “She didn’t seem bothered by it.”
“And you?”
Margo cocks an eyebrow as xe undoes the buttons on xir jersey.
“Were you bothered by it,” she clarifies. Silvaire’s eyes stay trained on her hands as she wrings out her hat.
Margo sighs, tossing xir jersey into the bin. “I was the one who signed up for this.”
“That didn’t answer my q–”
“Quite frankly, I don’t want to answer.” Any edge in xir tone is lost in the exhaustion. “I’m sorry.”
Silvaire nods in silence.
Xe doesn’t bother addressing the team. Nic Winkler is the only one who manages to steal a glance from xem as xe leaves. He turns to Zeboriah Whiskey once Margarito is out of earshot.
“Hey ‘Riah, could you tend the bar tonight? Or just close it. I have to take care of–” Nic vaguely signs ‘my husband.’
“Was already planning on it,” Riah says as she scrubs the makeup off her face with unnecessary fervor.
Silvaire doesn’t speak. Simply continues to listen without looking up from the bench. One by one, the rest of the team leaves in various fashions. In the end, it’s just Silvaire, Zeboriah, and Inez occupying the large space.
Zeboriah fiddles with clasps on his overalls. After a brief consideration of whether he should say anything, he speaks up. “I’m sure you’re not having an easy go at this either.”
Silvaire feels the weight of her pearl bolo tie. How it sits around her neck. “I didn’t ask for this.”
“I believe you,” he says. It’s the first time Silvaire looks over at him. “You’ve been nothing but a hard worker and team player. Can’t imagine you’d be half-assing any of this.”
“And yet I’m still not good enough.”
“We’re all in the hot seat right now… be it from past actions or current responsibilities. It can’t all be saddled on you.” Zeboriah stands up and unfolds his white cane as Inez collects herself. “The season’s almost over. Just focus on that.”
Silvaire watches them exit.
─•~❉᯽❉~•─
Matheo holds open the greenhouse door for Zeboriah and Inez, the former softly stepping through the threshhold as the other dissolves into clusters of bees flitting around the room.
“Glad you two could make it,” Hurley calls as she finishes her rounds of watering the flora.
“Glad you two actually showed up invited this time,” Matheo grumbles as he shuts the door behind them.
“You say that as if you don’t love when I visit,” Zeboriah quips. Matheo rolls his eyes at the comment.
Zeboriah continues walking, white cane tapping against the rows of shelves. Bees swiftly fly out of his way, hopping from plant to plant to pollinate. “Anything new?”
“I don’t recall the last time I added to the collection.” Hurley taps her foot. “Oh! Actually, stay where you are– I’ll come to you.”
Hurley picks up a small potted plant. Once Matheo catches wind of exactly which plant she’s holding, he briskly follows behind her. Hurley holds it out at chest height for Zeboriah to feel. His fingers glide over the pointed leaves.
“Who is this?” Zeboriah asks.
“Dionaea muscipula. Venus Flytrap,” Matheo provides as he looms around Hurley’s shoulder.
“Matheo calls it the ‘glory of the garden,’” Hurley interjects, smiling. “It’s a fickle one but it’s surprisingly resilient.”
“What makes this one fickle?”
“Picky eater,” Matheo huffs. “It requires constant attention. I have to hand-feed it insects.” A bee lands on his fingertip. “Not you, Inez.” Relieved, it flaps its wings and takes off.
Zeboriah chuckles. “Never pegged you as the fatherly type, Matheo.”
“You should see how he talks to it when he thinks he’s alone–” Hurley chimes in.
“Alright, that’s enough! Out with you.” Matheo makes a shooing motion.
Zeboriah quickly and lightly shakes ones of the plant’s leaves with his pointer and thumb. “Well, it was nice to meet you Mx. Glory of the Garden. I hope we cross paths again soon.”
“Out!”
─•~❉᯽❉~•─
Gloria sneaks out of the team meeting early. None of it particularly interested or impacted xem, so… xe left. The grass beneath xir feet is dry. The immateria didn’t soak into the dirt. Or at least the Garden wouldn’t allow it.
On xir aimless wander, Gloria finds Silvaire and her pet buffalo laying in the middle of the field. Her head is rested against his chest as she stares heavenward. Silvaire doesn’t flinch when Gloria drops down beside them.
“What are you doing?” Xe asks, legs tucked tight against xir body.
Silvaire looks at xem without moving her head.
“Stargazing.”
“I see.” Gloria lays back on a patch of grass near them. Then, a beat. “I don’t get the point of this.”
“Some use it for storytelling. Others, navigation… advice.”
“Did you learn all that when you ascended?”
Silvaire’s face scrunches. “No. My ông nội was a traveler. He taught me how to read the stars. Said I could use them to find my way back home.” She sighs as she pats the buffalo’s chest. “These are different stars, though. They don’t lead me anywhere.”
“Tell me about your stars then. What were they like.”
“Brighter. More colorful. The arms of Ngân hà would hug Mộc Châu in the early months.” The memories make her chest feel tight. “Sao Cá Liệt was my favorite since it was the easiest to find. My ông nội would share stories of different cultures’ Cá Liệt when he returned home.”
They’re silent for a while, both staring at the same sky.
“If you could return home, would you?” Gloria asks, not for the first time.
“I would. Just to see the stars again, one last time.” Silvaire holds her breath in thought. “For now, I must find peace in what I have.”
“So what you’re saying is…”
“I’ve been mentally renaming the northern constellations after loved ones,” she finally admits. “Yes.”
“...Can I help?” Gloria drums xir fingers on xir stomach. “I would like to carry their stories, too.”
She motions at the sky. “Go right ahead.”
─•~❉᯽❉~•─
Gloria spins around the observatory, looking at the piles of trinkets left by loved ones and strangers to the Baltimore Crabs. It’s filled up over the season; there’s barely any room to walk.
Xir chauffeur, Valentine Games, prods at the paper in xir hands. “What did you bring?”
“A collage of photos I’ve taken of Pedro.”
Val adjusts their heart-shaped glasses as they lean in closer. “Reminds me of David Hockney. You captured his eclecticism very well.”
“Thank you,” Gloria beams. “Did you bring more letters?”
Val’s lip curls. “Not particularly. Poetry, mostly. Blotted from his favorite novels.”
“Sap.” Gloria sticks xir tongue out at hir.
“Takes one to know one.”
Gloria ignores him and presses xir eye against the telescope. It’s pointed directly at the illuminated scoreboard hanging over the Crabitat. Xe frowns.
Val hums. “Crabs still bad?”
“Crabs still bad,” Gloria agrees. “Maybe they’re trying to be bad on purpose, so they fall back down?”
“Doubtful, but who knows. They might be turning a new leaf.”
Gloria doesn’t laugh at vils joke, so Val does it for xem. “I just don’t get leaving things here for them if they don’t get to see it.”
Valentine sets her poetry down in an untouched corner. “Few things in life are immutable, but I suppose memorials assist in the transience of those absolutes.”
“For other people, sure but…” Gloria puts xir collage next to theirs.
“I know, I know.” Valentine leans down and kisses xir forehead. “I trust that Pedro will return eventually, but consider this a collections box for later.”
Gloria folds xir arms. “I’ll try. I’m not happy about it, but I’ll try.”
The sound of the custodian’s keys unlocking the observatory entrance interrupts their conversation. Valentine leaps into action.
“Gloria dear I’m taking that as our cue to defenestrate–” Ne squats, cupping nyr hands together.
Gloria, well accustomed to this, follows aer lead and launches xirself through the unlatched window. Val is right behind xem only a moment before the custodian flips the lightswitch. She shuts the window from the outside, and they take off into the starlit night.
─•~❉᯽❉~•─