Nedia wasn't sure whose party this was. Among the sea of glittery bluebloods wasting away their youth, she was perhaps the only one who hadn't fallen to the allure of sweet wine and long smoking pipes.

It was one of hundreds of parties on Yona, a perpetual bacchanal that spanned globally as Yonites wasted away to drunken messes, thrumming with a noisy band's brassy tone and filled with aristocrats competing to see who could be the drunkest of them all. At first, it had started formally, as they all did, but the night dragging on always seemed to bring out the worst in Yonites, and soon the quiet order had given way into a croaking, screeching mess.

Wasn't this supposed to be a New Year's gala? She scrunched her nose at the thought -- and at the sickening smell of sweet smoke pouring from the pipe of the woman in front of her. Lissli draped herself over the chaise like a stole, her long purple dress flowing down the pillows like a waterfall breaking through the ice. She wore a smile that was just as bright as that glittering lavender fabric. Among the dim light and thick clouds of smoke, she sparkled just like stars -- glimmering almost like the dead sun, but never close enough. Perhaps it was her party, or perhaps it was another that had spilled through the doors of her palace, and she had welcomed them with open arms. It was her that Nedia was here for.

By the looks of it, she was drunk. Of course.

A man clung to Lissli's side, one she recognized to be her little assistant. He mumbled a few unheard words to her, to which Lissli responded with a laugh, smoke curling from between her lips. He had to be the third or fourth fling of hers she'd had in the past few years. He was nothing special: a weaselly sort, one that she'd eventually grow tired of and toss to the side before moving onto another. It had happened before, and it would happen again.

"Lissli," Nedia said, drawing her attention.

Two pairs of eyes turned to her, both briefly icy, before the regent's settled first. She met Nedia's glare with a grin -- that perfect grin of hers, one that summoned the faintest hint of dimples. Always so composed, Lissli made everything play into her hand -- but not Nedia. Never her.

"Nedia! I didn't realize you were still here," she greeted, her voice low and smooth and as saccharine as ever. She waved her fellow regent over with a hand covered in rings. "Come here, let's drink. I'm not nearly drunk enough."

Nedia did not offer even a glimpse to her beckoning hand, choosing instead to remain in place, staring. Her long white cape fluttered with the movement of the crowd around them. Even amongst the bustle of the party and Lissli's growing insistence, she was rooted to the ground.

Of all places to be on New Year's, why did she have to be here? Her own duties, her own traditions were beckoning her back home; she could have been drinking warm tea and sharing sweets with her loved ones, wrapped up in the comfort of familiarity. Here, she was a foreigner -- a powerful foreigner, but a foreigner nonetheless.

Lissli scoffed at her stubbornness. She turned to the man, a smile on her face as she spoke. "What did I tell you? She's about as fascinating as snow. Or maybe mud. Which bores you more?"

Her comment was clipped short when Nedia's hand wrapped firmly around her wrist. She leered down at her, golden eyes burning like a wick caught ablaze. The regent's smile fell. Nedia could imagine what she was thinking -- rather, what she'd soon say once she was pulled out of the party: what gall she had, what absolute nerve. Inflammatory little phrases, just like she always said whenever she didn't get her way.

"Show's over," Nedia said, her voice flat. It earned nothing but a chuckle from Lissli. Her hand slipped out from underneath her fingers, her nails tracing along her skin as they went.

"Come on, don't be a drag," she hummed. "The night is still young -- hell, when is it not young?"

"When you're making a fool of yourself, it is. You're going home. You have duties to tend to tomorrow morning."

A long, melodramatic sigh left Lissli as she flung herself over the arm of the chaise. The man at her side tended to her, untangling her long sashes from her elbows, meliorating her just like he was trained to do. It was an unspoken command, that simple act, that she be perfect even in the dim light where no one could see beyond the smoke.

Her voice crooned above the din of the party. "Going home with you? oh, I'm in trouble."

The comment made Nedia's cheeks burn. She glanced at Lissli's lap dog, eyes narrowing in a silent threat. His head lowered in a bow, mocking as it was, before receding. With a huff, Nedia grabbed her wrist, bringing her to her feet and sending stray ashes from her cigarette to the ground, fluttering like snow.

Out, she thought sourly. She needed to get out of here. Out of the palace, out of Tarapol, off of Yona entirely, and back to her home in Kalrek -- but as long as Lissli was here and in this utterly pathetic state, she couldn't do so, not even as her exhaustion ached and begged for it. The folksy festivity of Kalrek's new year celebration was merely a dream, slipping through her fingertips just as quickly as any hopes for sleep.

The crowd parted as Nedia passed through, a wall cut open by her glare and status alone, demanding space with just a twitch of her eyes. Lissli shuffled behind her; one awkward footstep here, another there -- she was nearly too drunk to walk.

"Come on, Neddy, don't be like this," she groaned as the doors shut behind them. Stragglers lingered in the hall, some clinging to each other in an obscene display, others slumped over glitzy furniture in a hazy stupor. "I was having fun. Do you know what that is?"

"I don't care if you were having fun. You can't even walk on your own."

Walking to Lissli's room was a path she had taken many times before -- from being called to visit or to drag her home -- and she knew the way by heart, unfortunate as that was. As they turned from hall to hall, the party thinned out, leaving only a thrum of distant energy as she ushered her into her wing of the palace. At her side, Lissli drunkenly hummed the rest of the song from the ballroom, trying to remember the melody as she went. Her voice rumbled in a soft vibration at Nedia's side, tucked underneath her arm. A warm hand lingered at her wrist, the pads of fingers brushing along the little sliver of exposed skin. Her touch was soft. Nedia despised it.

"I feel sick," Lissli mumbled, breaking her bout of humming.

"You can puke when you're back in your room."

"Don't tell me what to do."

As always, her snippy remark earned nothing but a huff. It was somehow impossible to ignore her dagger of a tongue; all else failed to make Nedia falter, and yet Lissli had wormed her way under her skin, a thorn pricking at her side that refused to budge. She focused on guiding Lissli to her room, on every uneven step, on the promise of heading home as soon as she was done.

There were two guards standing at the door of her room, and judging by the weary sag of their shoulders, it was clear they'd be elsewhere on such an evening. Nedia merely gave them a curt nod as they perked up upon her approach, before abandoning them to the hall as they opened the door to Lissli's room.

The light from the hall spilled into her room, a long column amidst the dark, barely ghosting its glow along the canopy of her bed. Despite the glamor of the palace, her room was practically destroyed, left as a mess left to be tended to later; a trail of clothes and robes were left littering the space by her closet; her curtains were half-ripped from an old display of sudden rage and had yet to be replaced; her vanity mirror was cracked straight down the middle. The only thing perfected was her bed, neatly made and without a single crease or wrinkle to its name -- not even Lissli's doing, certainly, but rather a maid.

"What a mess," Nedia said through a sigh.

Lissli chuckled -- that bubbly, drunk laugh of hers, so sickly sweet and stuck to Nedia -- and dragged herself off of her. Stumbling forward, she held her arms out in a grand display, showcasing her room.

"Who cares," she croaked. "Someone will clean it. Someone'll -- do somethin'. They always do..."

Something -- always something. Someone to tend to her, to entertain her, to adore her every word and thought and action. Yona was full of dogs that drooled at her feet, and oh, how Nedia loathed it all. She would not stoop to Lissli; she had already done so too many times. She knew better now.

Yet here she was anyways. Always so weak-willed, always wanting what she could not have.

"Have some self respect," she snapped in a scowl, more angry with herself than she was with Lissli. "Why do you degrade yourself like this? You're a regent -- a Biryona. For once in your life, act like it."

Lissli's arms were drawn up in some half-forgotten dance from the party down the hall -- aimless roaming, turning, bending, all without song. A soft chuckle took the place of a melody, feather-light and overly sweet. Out the door she drifted, stepping onto the balcony and welcoming the cold air as she shrugged off her fur coat. Nedia followed dutifully, and her hands rose to catch the coat as it fell. She draped it back over her shoulders. It was too cold outside for such a thing.

"Forgive me then, Nedia. Goddesses, when was the last time you smiled?"

Lissli leaned back, her head resting on her shoulder. She looked so calm, almost serene if Nedia squinted just right; her plum-colored hair curled against the lapel of Nedia's cloak. Warmth lingered where she drew close. As she turned in place, Lissli draped her arms around her neck and smiled up at her. Her eyes were hazy.

She stepped forward then, draping her arms over Nedia's shoulders once more. Warmth lingered where her face drew close, a nervous energy building -- one thought it to be tension, the other took it as a foreboding warning. Her eyes glinted as she met Nedia's gaze.

"I can help you with that," she murmured. Her hand rose to her cheek, fingers digging into her hair. She drew close, and before Nedia could even protest -- could even register it -- she was pulled into a kiss.

Her eyes widened. What was she doing?

Acting on instinct, on an aching, burning rage, Nedia pushed her away. She heaved a shuddering breath, wiping that kiss away with the back of her hand. Damn it -- how foolish could she be?

Lissli stumbled back, wobbling on her heels before going still. Confusion painted her face; it was all at once clean of any humor or merriment she had merely a second ago. How distant the early night was now; a clean divide separated then and now, forced apart by her stupidity, their stupidity, for letting this get as far as it had. Nedia could see it, that dazed shock; they had had flings before, pathetic little bouts of loneliness that Lissli took great pleasure in taking advantage of. Why was it different now? Why was it only now that her kiss made her feel sick?

That confusion melted as her face contorted into that of anger. Miffed, she snuffed her cigarette out on the snow-covered balustrade, scowling. How dare she be spurned; how dare Nedia be so selfish.

"I hate you, you know that? I hate you."

"Lissli," Nedia began, her tone a grave warning.

A frustrated growl was the only warning Nedia received before a hand swiped at her face. She stepped back into the perfumed darkness of her room, barely avoiding the scratch and claw of her manicured nails. Lissli pushed forward. Her voice was a hiss as she spoke, sharp and angry, a tone Nedia was too familiar with. Oh, those tantrums of hers -- it was the most familiar part of Lissli's disposition she knew.

"I'm just not good enough for you, aren't I? Not good enough for Mirriak and not good enough for Yona, either! Don't think I don't see it, Nedia." A finger was jabbed at the center of Nedia's chest. Her hand rose to catch her wrist, holding her in place.

"I can see you glaring at me. That's the only way you've looked at me all my damn life. You hate me and I hate you."

"I don't hate you --"

"Don't you dare start with me, Nedia. I don't want to hear it."

Her hand tightened around Lissli's wrist before it was tugged out of her grasp. Nedia scoffed. She reminded herself of their place, of the late night, of the neverending sounds of festivity that covered Yona this evening. She was merely drunk -- too drunk, frankly, though that often seemed to be Lissli's perpetual state.

"Maybe I wouldn't look at you that way if you didn't nearly drink yourself to death every single week. It's pathetic," she said sharply. There was no use in arguing this. Lissli would pull her into this useless spat, just as she always did, solely for some sort of entertainment or amusement. It was almost sadistic, how Lissli derived enjoyment out of tormenting Nedia like this. She turned, gazing into her room, and calmed herself.

"I'm not wasting my time on this," she conceded. "I'm returning to Kalrek. I'll expect to see you at next month's meeting -- and this time, please don't be so brash --"

"You wish it was me instead of Ari."

Nedia froze in place. The air was stolen from her lungs.

A decade's worth of grief blistered and burned wherever Lissli's hands had lingered, casting nausea into her stomach. Ari wasn't meant to be here. She wasn't meant to belong in this petty, ridiculous argument -- but wasn't she already here, merely unspoken, implied in every word? All of this -- these flings, these distortions of romance and misguided touches -- they were all because of her. Rather, in spite of her.

"What did you just say?"

Lissli remained quiet for a moment, and Nedia prayed that she had the sense to remain so. But she didn't -- of course she didn't -- because when Nedia glanced over her shoulder, she saw that Lissli's brows were raised. She knew she had struck where it hurt.

"Every time you kiss me, every time you speak to me, you wish it was her instead," she said. Her voice was hauntingly even, calculated, as if she had thought these words over every second of her life. She had been holding onto it all, clinging to it, letting it rot in her hands. "You wish that instead of her fucking off and dying, it was me. Don't you?"

She shoved Nedia back. The scattered clothes along the floor tripped her, leaving her stumbling backward until she gained her footing. Lissli stormed forward in an unrelenting barrage.

"Say it! Say it, Nedia!"

For once, the Jhonian was small, her countenance replaced by a wide-eyed shock. Her words were breathy and uneven.

"Lissli, stop it --"

"No!" She shouted through grit teeth. "I know you. Goddesses, I know you more than I wish I did. I can see the way you wish it was her instead of me every time you even touch me. How you wish I wasn't like this. You think you can cover it up by being cold, but you're just like Mirriak, just like everyone else! You don't want me -- you only put up with me because you're so damn lonely that you settle."

Her fists raised back, tracing a halo over her head, before collapsing at Nedia's chest. One hit, then another before she inevitably slumped against her, face buried in the fabric of her suit. Mascara smeared it in an inky black. She trembled -- not from the cold that drifted through the open balcony door.

"Why can't you just love me? Why can't I just be wanted?"

The room was silent. The snow muted sound. Even the party seemed so far away.

Slowly, Nedia brought a hand to rest upon her back. She brushed the hair away from her neck and held her close as she cried. It was the kindest thing she could do for her, a useless, temporary comfort.

From the open door, she could hear the chants and cheers of Yonites as the time ticked down from ten to one. Bells clamored over the sea of voices. It felt so futile to cheer for another year; the sun would still be dead and the goddesses would still ignore every prayer. What point was there to celebrate?

It was all buried beneath the snow, their prayers and hopes and desperate, pleading wishes, and what remained was a suffocating, inescapable dread that froze every Keplan, Jhonian, and Yonite to the bone. Their misery was what united them. Even Lissli, with her pearls and starlike sequins, could not escape drowning in it. It was what united the two of them now.

"Let's get you to bed," Nedia murmured.

Lissli merely nodded. There was nothing left for her to say. They left the balcony and the cheering behind, shutting the door behind them.

The two silently walked towards the bed, and as they passed the vanity, Nedia adjusted the coat draped over Lissli's shoulders, staving off the night chill. Her touch, despite the thrum of adrenaline and grief that burned just beneath her skin, was gentle, just as it always was with her despite it all.

She lowered her down onto the bed. Lissli's hand dragged down her sleeve, keeping her close, her touch lingering for far too long.

"Will you stay?" She whispered softly.

"I'm not your lover."

"I don't want you to be. Could you stay?"

She stared up at her, dark eyes tired yet glittering. A hand drifted up to her short brown hair, petting it gently -- yet the desire was gone, that drunken humor she always had, and instead something softer lingered there. Some type of yearning for something she could not truly have.

Nedia had no choice. She was always so weak-willed.