Chase braided the vines together tediously. One would think she'd be sick of tying them after the funeral. However, these were her father's flowers. His favorite. One that reminded him of his wife, her adoptive mother. Gardenias.

None had noticed, but her tent was set up beside a grove of Gardenias. Her chin was lowered. Salty drops descended upon the pretty pedals of the flowers she knitted.

The poor Gypsy must have been rather preoccupied, because after her long trek, Atalanta was now standing about twenty or so feet from the entrance to the tent.

She watched as Chase worked, her head cocking sideways and her body swinging from left to right with the alcohol she'd already consumed. Part of her wondered if she should really be here.

Should she be coming to burden Chase?

Then again, it wasn't all about venting. She had missed Chase.

The song of rustling blades of grass getting crushed from underneath. Her grievous stare lifted from her pointless craft. Finding it to be an intoxicated Atalanta, she gave her a ghostly grin.

Horrifically enough, the stench of the alcohol carried over to her nostrils was no stench at all. It was an aroma. A perfume. She hadn't drank since she came back.

Travis prevented her from touching the bottle. But she needed it. It was comforting for her. The sight of her best friend with liquor was a sight that made her forget all those times she missed her when venturing to the Inn.

"There you are." She smiled after another of her sniffles, sticking out both arms for a hug. Before she once again noticed the bottles she was carrying.

"Oh...I brought you something." She was about to grin when she looked up and noticed a wet pathway on Chase's cheek, glistening in the quiet light. Atalanta went right back to frowning.

"You're not okay."

"Only about a week or so's worth." She mumbled it into the Gypsy's hair as her accent snuck in thicker and as several of her words slurred.

"Did you go looking for me at the Inn? I haven't been there as much. Where'd you go?" She wanted to keep talking and asking questions, but more of her wanted to hear answers.

She wanted someone to have a conversation with, and Chase was the best person for such a thing. She leaned out with her hands clasped just behind the Gypsy's lower back, to get a better look at Chase's face.

"I went to the Inn a couple of times. Even sneaked peeks at Alain's joint. Though, he still gives me the collywobbles." Chase murmured.

Her face was barren, but with signs of recovering life. Her eyes had lovely greens filling them in gently leeching cycles. "Oh, Loo..." Her hand went to her cheek, giving her a sisterly rub of admiration. "Even buzzed, you're still the gorgeous one I've missed. Damn, Loo..."

She almost began crying again. But this time? It was of joy. Her best friend was here. Now. And that made her world gain a bit of its lost light.

"Now, now. Let's not get into that, again.." 'Lanta teased gently, pulling one hand up to rest against Chase's. Her eyebrows dipped into a wobbly, downwards arrow, as she investigated the expression the Gypsy was wearing.

"Chase?" She said it gently and almost in a pleading way. "Let's talk." No longer concerned with her own troubles, her friend's woes took priority.

"Only if it means you fill me in on stuff. Let's drink, too..." She walked them to her tent. Staying outside in the summer's daytime warmth, she sat them both down.

Pulling her onto her lap, she decided against it at the last minute. Acrobatically, she scooted to one side and sat the slightly drunken girl down beside her.

Setting the two bottles down, she took her own Golden bottle. Unscrewing the bottle's cap, she took a generous starting swig of the stuff with delight. Its familiar taste had her smiling while she swallowed.

Travis would give her hell for this, if he caught her. But hopefully, his gigs would exhaust him enough to make a Southern Glen visit too much trouble.

Besides, Atalanta might not have liked the prospect of sharing her time, even with the likes of Travis. Jealously was not beyond the cambion.

Despite the overwhelming urge to lean against Chase, she decided to let her have her room. Somewhere, deep down, she might have even questioned the wisdom of letting Chase get smashed while she, too, continued to do so--but Hell, this was a form of therapy.

They were still young. They were still allowed to be foolish about these decisions.

The lifted hand was met, her fingers lacing up with Chase's. Her frown only got worse as Chase kept on, and during her explanation, Atalanta tugged the Gypsy over, nearly into her lap, so she could better hold and comfort her.

"No...I don't think I can imagine." She confessed it softly. "I can't imagine what you're going through--but I want to listen. Maybe I can understand? Or...just...offer support and affection?"

Chase indulged in the pull. She lowered her forehead to rest on her shoulder. "Do you? Oh, Loo..." She smiled into the shoulder she buried her forehead on.

"I've missed you...I've missed you so much..." Her arm guided their linked hands for her lips to kiss. Talking into the hand, she smiled. "I don't know where to start..."

"I've missed you, too, Chase. More than I can probably tell you right now. But..um...Anywhere you want. I can catch up." She curled her other arm up to hold Chase's head, though she had to stop once or twice to catch her balance.

Her fingers worked through the rainbow hair.

"I've been having nightmares. Mixed ones, y'know?" She eyed her bottle that she held, and smiled.

She chuckled when the wavering Atalanta wavered some more. She shook her head and sighed gently.

"Most of them were of my Pops. Just...him calling out to me. Begging me. Wanting me to come to him. And take him away. To...free him. But...others...Were of Quel. Just of him being somewhere else. With someone else..."

Chase paused. "Those would fill my nights. He promised me...He promised he would be here for the wedding. He never came, as you know. He promised...That was the last thing he said to me. Ever since? Nothing. Nothing, Loo...."

?Yes, I am...? Twistedly, she laughed into her neck.
The liquor had her pulling belated tricks.

Once a Gypsy, forever a Gypsy. And the Gypsy Rose of the bunch was no exception to the rules.

?He?s wonderful. Wonderful, Loo?? She assured with a smile in her song. Her songs were gentle, playful. Chase was near recovery. And it was her new union which she found her salvation.

"Thank God. Otherwise I'd have to wallop you." She threatened lightly, with a smile, as she settled back into her friend.

Chase would be alright. It would be hard, of course--especially after losing her father--but 'Lanta was sure she'd pull through. She'd help. There was a temporary pause, where despite pangs of jealousy, she held her friend in close and spoke as honestly as she could; from the heart, and from alcohol.

"I'm happy for you, Chase. Real happy. You deserve a fella who will love you the right way, and who will give you whatever bit'zo strength you need. Especially through times like these. And you have me, too."

Chase unwound her arm from Atalanta's lovely waist to tend to her abandoned bottle. Two long, heavy swallows were stolen. Smiling with a sigh of content, it was like cinnamon syrup to her. Her tolerance was shot.

It would take some time to build it up again after being Bone Dry for so long. "Loo...Yer better than a sister. Prettier than one, too. You're my prettiest badge I have to show...."

She cooed with a smile. Heavily, she brought her arm to hold her again. She leaned more against her than the last time. The alcohol was pulling her further down and faster than before. She laughed goofily as she let the alcohol take her far away.

"Of course you do, Chase. We all have a long way to go. If we were done growing, well...then we'd have nowhere left to go. As long as you know you aren't going it alone."

She kissed the Gypsy's face and leaned back, reaching for the vodka bottle. Apparently, pearls of wisdom could come with alcohol. "Sing if you want to, lovely canary." She frowned, some, as she fought with the cap. "No love songs."

"I'm not yellow, Loo..." She teased, laughing gently to herself. Yet, the words spoken were taken in and cherished. Thought about. "But even though I don't have feathers...Except for my cheating ones..."

She looked down to see a dangling beaded feather hanging from one of her braided tresses. As Atalanta got her Vodka, Chase gave in to another wave of golden sharded cinnamon.

In fact, her swallows were growing longer and longer as she became further away from herself. She enjoyed the internal vacation.

"When I don't sing about love...I sing about stupid shit. Like a pretty bird. Or dancing alone. And other things." She grinned stupidly into her bottle, looking down at the slender neck she held.

"I don't care." She said a little more seriously. "Those are fine. I'll chunder if you sing about 'happily ever after' right now."

That was more bitter, stinging her mouth like the vodka she was pouring down her throat. But it was true. She could handle Chase talking about Travis because that was a relationship she had wanted to be for a while, now. She wanted happiness for her sister.

She didn't want happy songs about strangers.

"You got it, Loo." The bitterness hit her like a frozen burn. Yet, she knew better. She knew it wasn't for her. It was from understandable circumstances. "Obviously, things still aren't well with Snowflake face? Talk to me, Loo...I wanna know all about it..."

Chase was honest, but her slurred speech unintentionally took away some sincerity. She was eager to learn and catch up with things.

When was the last time she'd seen Locke?

Chase was taken aback by Atalanta?s spontaneous outburst. Yet, she warmly enveloped her friend. A look inspiring of the greatest empathy swelled upon her pretty Gypsy face.

She had a receptive countenance about her. Her apprehension was hidden with her alcohol consumption. ?What he say, Loo? Tell me what he say..? As if consoling a tantric child, she talked in coos. Gentle songs of silken comforts were stroked against her beautiful skin.

Sisterly patience of the older persuasions had her smiling softly. It could?ve been the alcohol, however. By now, it could?ve been any sober person?s guess.

"He-he-he" Three well placed sobs inbetween, where her breath caught in her throat and choked her up. Finally, the rest of the words tumbled through. "He said 'take care of yourself'!"

She spat it out and scrunched her nose. "Like I didn't mean a thing! Like I was anybody!" And then her voice lost the fierceness and trembled down into nothing. "...Like he didn't ever say he loved me."

And that's when she started to sob uncontrollably. She tried more words. "I'm so sorry, Chase!"

Chase closed her eyes as she crumbled between her arms. Her share of sins had her on both sides of the ball field. "Don't you EVER...apologize to me. Not for this. Not for now."

Musically, she hummed into her hair as she nuzzled against her with a chin. "Atalanta...it's hard for him. You need to understand that..." Chase stood up for the Snowflake-faced friend of hers.

After all, she wielded his ring. Hell, she went BLUE for the f**ker. "He's helpless. And for us..." She was referring to their constant need of release and attention from a man, of course. "...He's useless. He loves you. He really, really does."

Chase continued, ghostly thoughts of Quel's face after the many times she'd done the very same thing to him. "You're everything to him. And I know because he's hurting so much. It wouldn't hurt him if he doesn't love you. I think he loves you more than you both give credit for..." Chase smiled and kissed her head.

Kisses made things go down smoother. So did alcohol. The two mixed together were the greatest comforts for the two.

"They make it so hard. Mish knows how to provoke me..." She caught herself whining, and shook her head to stop it.

"But I can say no to him. It's just..." She paused, again, sucking back tears, a runny nose, and any sound of hesitation."I just want to be normal. A normal sheila with my...normal...fella. And normal wearing inbetween. Sometimes it seems impossible."

She sloppily wiped at her cheeks with a bit more aggression. "I need to be quiet. Here I am, crying over...well...how do I win him back?"

"Your words are my music. Silence is death." Gravely, she looked back to the many walls she marked with those words. Those letters were an intense curse of hers.

Chase smiled gently to her sister. The one she wished she had. "Normal? Please..." She shook her head slowly, hugging her close to her by the side.

An index and middle finger bent to slide along her jaw lovingly. The Gypsy was an appreciative woman. She knew of their shared addiction to contact.

"You two need to talk about it. Need to be there to support each other. Spend time together. You need to be patient with him. It takes him forever to heal. He's so sensitive, Loo. Help him heal. Reassure him. Spend time with him. Make him forgive you in the easiest way. By reminding him why he fell for you in the first place."