T W E L V E

Rosé Flowing With Your Chosen Family

 

2023 December 31
Sunday

After the two women who were helping her had left, Persephone found her thoughts lingering on them.

Well, now she knew a little of how they knew each other: Summer had worked for Auntie Elle once. At a charitable foundation, she’d said.

Doing what? Surely not electrolysis, but that probably wasn’t her first job. Office work? Maybe there’d been some sort of workplace romance gone sour?

(How incredible would Summer look in a posh office, wearing high heels, a blazer, and a pencil skirt? No—that was a thought for later.)

But Summer had been injured? And lost a finger? That sounded more like an industrial accident or something. Maybe Summer had been doing some sort of field work?

(How amazing would Summer look working under the sun on a sweltering August day, wearing shorts and a sweaty tank top? No—that was also a thought for later.)

There was probably no way to know without asking—but she’d promised not to pry into Summer’s past. Maybe she’d get more details anyway later.

For now, she should find something else to distract her from these thoughts. Maybe there was someone online she could talk to.

She launched Consensus and checked her friends list. Most of her friends were AFK—not surprising for a night when everyone would be partying—but as she watched, one light turned green.

Sure—why not fill Stephanie in on how things were going?

sweetly bitter:
Hey, are you busy? I’ve had a wild evening.

basement dweller:
fifteen minutes ago I would’ve said yes
but then the girl I was hanging out with took her new girl friend into her dorm room
so, nope!

sweetly bitter:
Sorry they ditched you.

basement dweller:
I’m not!
I hope they finally kiss properly
they’ve been dancing around each other for a week

sweetly bitter:
I thought they were already girlfriends?

basement dweller:
oh no, lol
her friend was a boy last week
so she’s a new girl
you know how it is
so what’s new with you?

sweetly bitter:
Well, Summer and I are at a NYE party tonight, and about twenty minutes ago, I came out to my uncle and half of Scotland.

basement dweller:
WHAT
why?

sweetly bitter:
I sort of had nothing to lose—he tried to take me away from Summer after he clocked her as trans.

basement dweller:
HOW
I’ve seen photos of her
I guess she’s tall, but I still couldn’t clock her in a hundred years

sweetly bitter:
I don’t know, but it seems to have something to do with us running into Auntie Elle?

basement dweller:
WHO

sweetly bitter:
My godmother. It turns out that Summer used to work for her!

The typing indicator started, then stopped, then started, then stopped again for a long while. Persephone had nearly given up hope of hearing from her when she got the next message.

basement dweller:
elle lambert is your godmother?????
that’s an ABSURD coincidence

sweetly bitter:
Wait, do you know her?

basement dweller:
she’s my boss too
I mean, I don’t report to her or anything, but she’s the money
that’s how I found summer
she used to work here
we’ve never met, but we have mutual friends

Stephanie worked for Auntie Elle too? Maybe she could answer some of Persephone’s questions!

sweetly bitter:
OMG!
I’ve been wondering about that all night! Auntie Elle said it’s some kind of charitable foundation?

basement dweller:
yes
a university dormitory
for disadvantaged women and enbies
and also a trans man at the minute
his egg cracked halfway through the term
some of the girls on his floor are planning a ‘no boys allowed’ party for him when he moves out next month

Summer’s old dormitory? She had mentioned something to Renée about being on staff. But Persephone hadn’t known that Auntie Elle was involved there.

sweetly bitter:
LOL
Do you mean Dorley Hall? Where Summer transitioned? She was talking about it earlier with a woman named Renée.

basement dweller:
;ajbg[woebg;asjbdg
YOU RAN INTO RENEE?????
and yes

sweetly bitter:
I did! Do you know her?

Typing, a pause, more typing.

basement dweller:
we’re friends

sweetly bitter:
You should’ve seen her dress tonight. I would’ve gushed about it if I hadn’t been boymoding!

basement dweller:
I bet
she always looks incredible
I’ll have to ask her for a photo

So Summer and Elle had met at, or because of, this dormitory she worked at. But how would Summer have gotten such a serious injury at a dormitory?

Maybe Stephanie knew that too?

sweetly bitter:
Hey. Can I ask you something?
Auntie Elle said that Summer was injured there. Do you know what happened?
I don’t want to bother Summer—it seems like a sore subject.

There was a long hesitation before Stephanie started typing.

basement dweller:
I think you should ask summer first
she might want to fob you off on someone else
but that should be her choice
her past is hers, not mine

sweetly bitter:
Yeah, that’s fair.

basement dweller:
but I should warn you
I’ve heard the story
and however bad you’re imagining, it’s probably worse
this story is fucked up
like
all caps
FUCKED UP
one of my best friends was there
she’s seen some shit
but this was one of the worst things she ever witnessed
and pippa was just a bystander
summer was at the center of it

sweetly bitter:
I’ll try to be careful about when I ask.
Or just…wait until it’s actually relevant.
You shouldn’t rip the plasters off someone’s wounds just because you’re curious about what’s underneath.

basement dweller:
yeah
so
to very intentionally change the subject:
what do you think of summer’s dress ;)

Persephone blushed at the teasing—which was probably the point, although how did Stephanie know about her crush?—and then started typing a reply. But before she could send it, the screen went black.

“What?”

A message popped up in white at the center of the screen: Remote wipe: 1% complete.

“Wait! No!” Uncle Albert must be erasing her phone! She tried to stop it, but there was no Cancel button and even the power button didn’t do anything. And when the phone finally booted again, it asked for a password she didn’t have.

“Unbelievable…” She shoved the glass brick into her trouser pocket and sighed.

Well, she had a few new answers. Summer had worked for Elle at her old dormitory, which Elle apparently ran or funded or something. Summer had been injured there. And however it’d happened had been horrible.

How could you get that badly injured at a dormitory? An accident with a cooking knife? A power tool? Some rowdy students?

However bad you’re imagining, it’s probably worse.

Persephone shuddered.

The sound of the doors opening blessedly pulled her from those thoughts. Summer and Auntie Elle had returned—and they were carrying two enormous green boxes. “Oh!” she said, and she hurried over to help Auntie Elle with a box that seemed to push the limits of her armspan. “This is way too much!”

“Nonsense,” Auntie Elle said as they set the box on the table. “You deserve nothing less than the best.” Summer shot Auntie Elle a strange look as she set a longer, thinner box on the table; Auntie Elle nodded towards it and said, “Start with that one.”

Persephone tugged on the ends of the bow, undoing the knot and loosing the ribbons, then pulled the top off the box and gasped. She pulled the gift out of its box and held it up to her body.

It was a green dress, but one entirely unlike the green dress Summer had given her months ago. This one was forest green at the top, close-fitting with a modest neckline and short sleeves, but below the waist, the skirt flared into dozens of tiny mint pleats that she thought would fall to below her knees. It looked like it would fit her perfectly.

“It’s gorgeous!” Persephone said. Auntie Elle beamed; Summer, too, seemed impressed.

“Now open the rest,” Auntie Elle said, and Persephone could barely contain her excitement enough to carefully set down the dress before she did.

The second, bulkier box proved to have many smaller boxes inside it, and between them they contained everything she might want to go with that dress: dark tights, green underwear, makeup, and silver jewelry, including a necklace with a pendant in the shape of a pomegranate—a piece that she must have chosen to match Persephone’s name. A clutch in shiny black leather. And at the very bottom…

A pair of pumps with chunky heels that didn’t look too high for her, in the same black leather as the clutch, but with distinctive red soles.

Persephone launched herself at her godmother, hugging her. “It’s…it’s incredible, Auntie Elle. Thank you!”

“You’re welcome, my girl,” Elle said with a grin and a tight squeeze. “I only wish you could have worn it all tonight.”

“Me too,” Persephone said wistfully. “I bet I would’ve loved it.”

Summer looked over the pile of gifts; then she turned her wrist to glance at her delicate silver watch. “Why can’t you?”

 

* * *

 

The drinks were still weak; the music was still uninspired; the guests were still, on average, desperately boring. But the event had become about a thousand times better, because everyone could see that the girl on Summer’s arm was a girl.

They’d rushed to make the deadline. Time had been so short that Summer had been forced to put aside her misgivings about Elle’s motivations and work with her anyway. Summer had done Persephone’s makeup, carefully concealing the reddish remnants of the cut on her cheek and the hints of stubble on her chin, expertly bringing out every feminine feature in her slightly softened face; Elle had first styled Persephone’s hair and then buffed her fingernails to a shine nearly as good as polish; and then they’d both helped her into her beautiful new dress and the accessories that went with it, stuffing her tuxedo into the green gift boxes with little thought spared for avoiding wrinkles.

But they’d finished with half an hour left until midnight, and then Summer and Persephone had returned to the main dance hall to rejoin the event.

Summer had expected some attention when they returned, and certainly, a few people noticed. Henry had gaped at the sight; at his side, Renée had mouthed ’That was fast!’ and winked again at Summer; the Lord Provost had swallowed wrong and ended up doubled over, coughing his own champagne out of his lungs. But for the most part, it was once again to little fanfare. And why wouldn’t it be? They didn’t recognize either of the women as someone they knew, and even the homophobes in the upper class understood that harassing a pair of lesbians at a public event would be gauche. Who would want to make another scene like Cainewood’s?

What attention they got came from the fact that the girl on Summer’s arm was gorgeous.

Persephone’s dark red hair had been pinned up into a bun with an elegant silver comb, with a few dangling locks framing her striking face. Her green dress’s neckline was just low enough to highlight the silver pomegranate pendant nestled in the hollow of her throat, and her bra was just barely padded enough to make a slight something out of her almost-nothing. The flare of the skirt created the impression of hips; the shoes and the clutch made her look put together. It was a dress chosen, more than anything else, to make her look pretty, and it did its job perfectly.

Perhaps more importantly, though, Persephone was smiling. Her first few steps into the hall had been timid, but when the reactions she feared didn’t come, she’d quickly relaxed. The tension and stiffness Summer had seen in every movement all evening melted away, and Persephone became herself in a formal setting for what must have been the first time since she was a child—fluid, expressive, exuberant. And when she held Summer’s arm—rather than the other way around, as they had all night—it felt like a piece fitting into a puzzle, and Persephone shined all the brighter.

She wasn’t the only one who noticed. Summer caught a glimpse of Elle, who had come in separately and melted into the crowd, carefully dabbing tears from the corner of her eyes, the same strangely fond smile on her lips that Summer had seen earlier.

Persephone’s voice was still a mess, but that didn’t matter, because they didn’t talk to anyone. Instead, Summer steered her directly to the dance floor. There, they quickly lost track of time; Persephone fit into Summer’s arms like she was made for them, and her green eyes were more captivating than they’d ever been.

They only realized the time when the circle began to form on the dance floor for Auld Lang Syne. But they didn’t join it; instead, by silent consensus, they drifted to the side for the room. Regardless of local tradition, there was only one thing that either of them wanted to do at midnight.

And so Summer’s hand drifted up to cradle Persephone’s head, and Persephone’s arms wrapped around Summer’s shoulders. And at the stroke of midnight, their lips met. Two months ago, their kisses had been short and passionate and needy; tonight, allowed only one, they made it slow and sensual and joyous. The cheers, the singing, the entire room was just white noise in the background; there was only each other.

It was the perfect start to a perfect year.

 

2024 January 1
Monday

Relationship Manager, Account 57:
Good afternoon. Hope your hangover has worn off, because we have work to do.
My customer has ordered a new operation.
Timing is no later than January 14. Location is Edinburgh. Objective is extraction.
Targets are two young men, likely disguised as women. No military training, no paid security that we know of.

Team Lead, SRS-Echo:
Sounds like a piece of cake. Do we have any leads to locate them?

Relationship Manager, Account 57:
We’ve tracked a phone belonging to one of the targets to a high rise in Old Town.
Will send preliminary intel shortly.

Team Lead, SRS-Echo:
Excellent. What do we do with the targets after extraction?

Relationship Manager, Account 57:
One should be delivered directly to the customer’s local residence.
The other should be sent to the body shop.

Team Lead, SRS-Echo:
Poor bastard.
I’ll have a man on recon by nightfall. Keep in touch.

Relationship Manager, Account 57:
Will do.
Happy New Year.