In Which Amanda Palmer Makes Trouble While Greta and Macy Pine
Greta is a sensible girl, and she doesn’t hold with pining. If she were going to pine, she’s willing to admit that Macy Misa, the tiny, fierce, girl-apothecary with a fondness for pyrotechnics would probably be a pretty good choice for it.
For one, she’s pretty and smart and kind of ferocious, and Greta can’t help but be drawn to that concentration of pure guts packed into her tiny frame. But she’s destined, in a star-aligned, storybook way with Kevin’s younger brother, the doctor’s apprentice. Greta likes Joe, and even at her most unreasonable, she still has to admit with a sigh that its a good match, a young apothecary and a trainee doctor.
These are all thoughts running through her head one night at the bar--not The Hagar but one near the dock that she’s taken to going to with Kevin and the group he seems to gather around him on his nights off. Her pondering is cut short, though, by a commotion by the door. She tunes in to the sudden buzz of conversation just in time to hear the barmaid murmur that Amanda Palmer and her crew just waltzed through the door.
Amanda Palmer is a legend, a shopkeeper’s daughter who ran away to join the fleet dressed like a boy, just like a hundred girls in a hundred songs. She didn’t leave chasing after a boy, though, like the girls in the stories, and when she was found out she actually managed to talk her way into keeping her position. Now she’s an airship captain in the navy and a living legend, all at once. She’s also, apparently, a friend of Gerard’s.
…
Greta stumbles home that night giddy in a way she hasn’t felt since she first decided to give both her life and the gadgets she pours her heart into a purpose by casting her allegiance with a hard-eyed idealist. Now, though, it isn’t the giddiness of sudden meaning in her life, but the less sensible and more clamoring excitement that, “Amanda Palmer, Amanda fucking Palmer thinks Greta is extraordinary. She said so and everything, and Gerard assures her that his unlikely old friend doesn’t say such things unless she means them.
It is unusual enough for Greta to make a new acquaintance willing to listen as she prattles on for nearly a quarter of an hour about the changes she would make to streamline fleet-issued zeppelins, more unusual still for her listener to both idly toy with one of Greta’s stray curls and have useful information on the practicality of Greta’s imagined innovations, and entirely unheard of for the person in question to be one of Greta’s personal heroes.
Amanda asked, quiet but not precisely secret, if Greta would come out for a drink again the next night--the last night before Amanda ships out again and Greta had agreed in a daze, but now she’s a little nervous. Amanda had come in tonight after Greta’s tongue was already loosened a little with drink, and even now she’s cringing a little at the things she said. What will happen tomorrow when there’s no one else around to distract Amanda from Greta’s babbling or fill any awkward silence that crops up based on the fact that they don’t really know each other?
She goes anyway, though. She goes and it’s nice, the way Amanda pulls out her seat for her and insists on paying for drinks and keeps the conversation on a light, even keel, full of exciting tales of her exploits in the air. It’s nice the way Amanda insists on walking her home in the dark, even if Greta could dispatch nearly any foe with a handy gadget liberated from her stocking or wrist-sheath. It’s nice not to have to. It’s nice to be kissed in a patch of shadows near her doorstep and it’s lovely the way Amanda promises to look her up the next time she’s on leave in the city.
It is a nice evening in a hundred different ways, and Greta goes to sleep happy.
…
When Greta stops in to the apothecary the next day to pick up the salve Macy started making for her when she noticed how cracked and dried-out Greta’s hands get cleaning at the foundry, she’s humming. She is bright and cheerful and the sight makes Macy glad, even if she has been a little twitchy and over-observant around Greta ever since Joe ambushed her with a load of introspection.
“What’s got a smile on your face?" She asks, and instantly regrets the over-cheerful tone, and even the question, which, she thinks suddenly, probably sounds nosey. If Greta thinks so, though, she keeps it to herself, grinning wider and saying, “Macy, you’ll never guess. I met Amanda Palmer the other night!”
Macy wouldn’t have guessed. She is as excited as Greta, to start out with; Amanda Palmer is a legend every tomboy, even every stubborn girl with a bit of spunk living in the city hears about and thinks on with admiration at least once or twice. As Greta goes on, though, talks about Amanda’s particular attention to her, and Amanda’s fascinating stories and dashing manner, as Greta stops short and blushes when she reaches what sounds like the end of the evening and blushes bright red, Macy focuses less and less of her energy on the conversation and more and more on her mortar and pestle. She looks down at the end of Greta’s recitation to see that her dried comfrey-root is ground finer than she ever bothers to make it. It will mix into salve nicely, she thinks. She tells herself that is why she focused so much physical energy on it, rather than the fact that Greta’s words have left her shaky and upset for no apparent reason.
Greta is looking at Macy expectantly, like this is the point where she is supposed to add to the conversation, so she forces a smile and inwardly tries not to be too glad that Amanda’s orders have sent her far away for months at least.
…
Amanda Palmer may be far away, slaying dragons at the edge of the empire, or whatever new impossibility Greta thinks she is capable of, but she might as well have never left for the presence she has in Macy’s life these days. Greta likes to bring up things Amanda says every few minutes. Brendon is as bad as Greta, or possibly worse--he doesn’t sing Amanda’s praises day and night, but he does occasionally tease Greta about her admirer. It makes Macy cringe, a bit, which she hates because she is Macy Misa, she is not the type to be cowed by the mere memory of anyone. Even if ‘anyone’ is Amanda fucking Palmer.
Even Kevin gets in on it, asking if Greta walked home by a certain route because she was trying to see if a certain zeppelin had come in. Greta only blushed at the time, which frustrated Macy, who for all her irritation at the question, would have liked to hear the answer. Macy lets out a quiet breath, blinks once, and goes back to the task at hand. Greta can blush about Amanda Palmer all she wants. It makes no difference to Macy.
…
It seems to Greta that ever since the night Amanda Palmer walked into the airmen’s bar and locked eyes on Greta, she’s led a somewhat charmed life. Amanda may be gone for now, but she’s left behind her a faint glitter. On hard days, Greta needs only to picture Amanda’s face to remember what it is to feel special and wanted. Greta is not a greedy girl. She doesn’t need to feel such things every day. All she needs is the occasional reminder that she can feel like that, and Amanda’s brief sojourn into her life has given her that in spades.
All in all, Greta is more content than she has been in a while. Little does she know, both Macy and Joe are watching her, one with barely concealed hurt and disappointment, the other with simmering rage
Greta doesn't notice, doesn't let herself notice. She can't wait forever.
Joe is the one who corners her, finally. He's always been a little intimidated by her, and he looks like he's mustering his courage, but his voice is steady when he says, with no preamble, "I get that she should have said something, but the thing is, you didn't say anything, either." He says it like the topic of conversation should have been obvious, but it takes Greta a moment to connect Kevin’s little brother’s impassioned but inscrutable conversational sally with her own mostly buried crush on Macy.
Even once she does, she tries to set the record straight with Joe. "There was nothing to say, obviously." She tries to brush past Joe, but he holds firm. "Joe, it was a childish fantasy, with no basis in reality."
Joe mutters something foul-sounding under his breath, and then says, "Just...one last chance, Greta. Please."
She's not actually entirely sure what he means by that, but she is certain of one thing.
"If Macy has something to say to me, she needs to say it herself." This time, she manages to sweep past him. She makes it to the privy outside before she bursts into tears.
...
Meanwhile, Joe’s you-need-to-talk-to-her argument with Macy is going over about a smoothly as a ton of bricks.
And so, time goes on, and Macy is twitchy and quiet whenever Greta is around, and Greta is determinedly cheerful whether Macy is there or not. It seems like it could go on this way indefininitely, but for the fact that time pounds steadily on, whether Macy likes it or not, and before long, Amanda’s ship docks in the city again.
At first, Greta doesn’t actually expect to hear from her, says so to anyone who will listen, and Macy prepares with barely hidden satisfaction to be a shoulder to cry on, or otherwise supportive analogous body part. Here, finally, perhaps she can redeem herself. Just two days on, though, Amanda is waiting at the back exit of the foundry when Greta gets off work.
They’re happy, Macy thinks from her much-removed vantage point, and really, that’s all there is to say about that. Even Joe has stopped telling her to come clean, and if that isn’t a sign that she missed any chance she might have had, Macy doesn’t know what is. She thinks she’s resigned herself entirely to never having all of Greta, never having the shy little smiles that come out whenever she mentions Amanda, or the awed little grin she gets when Amanda shows up when she said she would.
She thinks she’s resigned, but when Greta brings Amanda around to the apothecary, that’s just too much. Rationally, she knows that Greta isn’t trying to hurt her. Greta doesn’t have a cruel bone in her body, and it’s possible that Greta even thinks she’s doing Macy a kindness, bringing the famous Amanda Palmer’s patronage to grace Macy’s little shop. A storefront could thrive for months on a reputation like that, and being situated on the edge of the slums like it is, Macy’s shop needs all the help it can get. Still, the sight of their two bowed heads as they giggle together over the window display distracts Macy enough that the customer whose purchase she is supposed to be measuring asks her if she’s quite alright.
Macy isn’t alright, but she distractedly tells the customer not to worry about it, and then proceeds to try to at least look moderately normal and sane as Greta and Amanda approach the counter. She thinks she pulls it off pretty well, for as long as it lasts, but that’s only for so long as it takes for Greta to drag her companion across the room to stand in front of Macy, smiling giddily and saying something about salve and Amanda’s hands being dried out. It’s not so much that Macy snaps as that she collapses into herself, bowing her head and letting her voice go as small and reedy and thin as it’s been straining to be since she first saw Greta through the shop window today. She steps into the back room, determined to find the salve and send them on their way, and outside the store room, she can hear a whispered argument take place.
She steps out just in time to see Amanda leave the shop, but before she has time to even process what that could mean, Greta is asking her in the most frustrated tone she’s ever taken with Macy, “What on earth was that about?”
Suddenly, Macy is furious. She’s moved from not thinking quite clearly to not thinking at all, which is the only excuse she has for responding, voice tight and unstrung, “I don’t know, Greta, what was it? What in the world could I possibly be upset about?” She pauses for a second, but the moment Greta takes a breath to respond, Macy plunges on, “I understand that she’s a legend and you wanted to show her off, and I understand that as a friend I maybe ought to support you in that, to be happy for you, but you see, I’m only your friend because I thought I knew you, and I never thought you were cruel, Greta.”
Macy pauses enough for a harsh breath, and continues, quieter, “I know we never spoke of it, I know you must think of me as a cowardly child for never speaking to you about it directly, but I know Joe has talked to you, I know you know how I feel, and bringing her here to where I work was unkind, Greta. Even cowards deserve more consideration than that.”
Greta stands gaping for a moment, before saying, “We’re not serious, me and Amanda.” she chuckles a little grimly and says, “I think she fancies her first mate, to be honest, but that’s not the point. She and I, we’ve been, um,” and here Greta blushes, “But I truly only brought her here as a friend, because I know she’ll never find a better apothecary anywhere in her travels.” her sweet, even voice drops softer as she says, “I never knew you felt so strongly, Macy.”
“I do,” Macy says, her voice soft as well, and entirely without her permission, it ends up sounding like quite a different type of declaration. When she looks up, Greta is smiling. Macy smiles back, and holds out her hands. She closes her eyes as Greta’s fingers slide between hers.
For one, she’s pretty and smart and kind of ferocious, and Greta can’t help but be drawn to that concentration of pure guts packed into her tiny frame. But she’s destined, in a star-aligned, storybook way with Kevin’s younger brother, the doctor’s apprentice. Greta likes Joe, and even at her most unreasonable, she still has to admit with a sigh that its a good match, a young apothecary and a trainee doctor.
These are all thoughts running through her head one night at the bar--not The Hagar but one near the dock that she’s taken to going to with Kevin and the group he seems to gather around him on his nights off. Her pondering is cut short, though, by a commotion by the door. She tunes in to the sudden buzz of conversation just in time to hear the barmaid murmur that Amanda Palmer and her crew just waltzed through the door.
Amanda Palmer is a legend, a shopkeeper’s daughter who ran away to join the fleet dressed like a boy, just like a hundred girls in a hundred songs. She didn’t leave chasing after a boy, though, like the girls in the stories, and when she was found out she actually managed to talk her way into keeping her position. Now she’s an airship captain in the navy and a living legend, all at once. She’s also, apparently, a friend of Gerard’s.
…
Greta stumbles home that night giddy in a way she hasn’t felt since she first decided to give both her life and the gadgets she pours her heart into a purpose by casting her allegiance with a hard-eyed idealist. Now, though, it isn’t the giddiness of sudden meaning in her life, but the less sensible and more clamoring excitement that, “Amanda Palmer, Amanda fucking Palmer thinks Greta is extraordinary. She said so and everything, and Gerard assures her that his unlikely old friend doesn’t say such things unless she means them.
It is unusual enough for Greta to make a new acquaintance willing to listen as she prattles on for nearly a quarter of an hour about the changes she would make to streamline fleet-issued zeppelins, more unusual still for her listener to both idly toy with one of Greta’s stray curls and have useful information on the practicality of Greta’s imagined innovations, and entirely unheard of for the person in question to be one of Greta’s personal heroes.
Amanda asked, quiet but not precisely secret, if Greta would come out for a drink again the next night--the last night before Amanda ships out again and Greta had agreed in a daze, but now she’s a little nervous. Amanda had come in tonight after Greta’s tongue was already loosened a little with drink, and even now she’s cringing a little at the things she said. What will happen tomorrow when there’s no one else around to distract Amanda from Greta’s babbling or fill any awkward silence that crops up based on the fact that they don’t really know each other?
She goes anyway, though. She goes and it’s nice, the way Amanda pulls out her seat for her and insists on paying for drinks and keeps the conversation on a light, even keel, full of exciting tales of her exploits in the air. It’s nice the way Amanda insists on walking her home in the dark, even if Greta could dispatch nearly any foe with a handy gadget liberated from her stocking or wrist-sheath. It’s nice not to have to. It’s nice to be kissed in a patch of shadows near her doorstep and it’s lovely the way Amanda promises to look her up the next time she’s on leave in the city.
It is a nice evening in a hundred different ways, and Greta goes to sleep happy.
…
When Greta stops in to the apothecary the next day to pick up the salve Macy started making for her when she noticed how cracked and dried-out Greta’s hands get cleaning at the foundry, she’s humming. She is bright and cheerful and the sight makes Macy glad, even if she has been a little twitchy and over-observant around Greta ever since Joe ambushed her with a load of introspection.
“What’s got a smile on your face?" She asks, and instantly regrets the over-cheerful tone, and even the question, which, she thinks suddenly, probably sounds nosey. If Greta thinks so, though, she keeps it to herself, grinning wider and saying, “Macy, you’ll never guess. I met Amanda Palmer the other night!”
Macy wouldn’t have guessed. She is as excited as Greta, to start out with; Amanda Palmer is a legend every tomboy, even every stubborn girl with a bit of spunk living in the city hears about and thinks on with admiration at least once or twice. As Greta goes on, though, talks about Amanda’s particular attention to her, and Amanda’s fascinating stories and dashing manner, as Greta stops short and blushes when she reaches what sounds like the end of the evening and blushes bright red, Macy focuses less and less of her energy on the conversation and more and more on her mortar and pestle. She looks down at the end of Greta’s recitation to see that her dried comfrey-root is ground finer than she ever bothers to make it. It will mix into salve nicely, she thinks. She tells herself that is why she focused so much physical energy on it, rather than the fact that Greta’s words have left her shaky and upset for no apparent reason.
Greta is looking at Macy expectantly, like this is the point where she is supposed to add to the conversation, so she forces a smile and inwardly tries not to be too glad that Amanda’s orders have sent her far away for months at least.
…
Amanda Palmer may be far away, slaying dragons at the edge of the empire, or whatever new impossibility Greta thinks she is capable of, but she might as well have never left for the presence she has in Macy’s life these days. Greta likes to bring up things Amanda says every few minutes. Brendon is as bad as Greta, or possibly worse--he doesn’t sing Amanda’s praises day and night, but he does occasionally tease Greta about her admirer. It makes Macy cringe, a bit, which she hates because she is Macy Misa, she is not the type to be cowed by the mere memory of anyone. Even if ‘anyone’ is Amanda fucking Palmer.
Even Kevin gets in on it, asking if Greta walked home by a certain route because she was trying to see if a certain zeppelin had come in. Greta only blushed at the time, which frustrated Macy, who for all her irritation at the question, would have liked to hear the answer. Macy lets out a quiet breath, blinks once, and goes back to the task at hand. Greta can blush about Amanda Palmer all she wants. It makes no difference to Macy.
…
It seems to Greta that ever since the night Amanda Palmer walked into the airmen’s bar and locked eyes on Greta, she’s led a somewhat charmed life. Amanda may be gone for now, but she’s left behind her a faint glitter. On hard days, Greta needs only to picture Amanda’s face to remember what it is to feel special and wanted. Greta is not a greedy girl. She doesn’t need to feel such things every day. All she needs is the occasional reminder that she can feel like that, and Amanda’s brief sojourn into her life has given her that in spades.
All in all, Greta is more content than she has been in a while. Little does she know, both Macy and Joe are watching her, one with barely concealed hurt and disappointment, the other with simmering rage
Greta doesn't notice, doesn't let herself notice. She can't wait forever.
Joe is the one who corners her, finally. He's always been a little intimidated by her, and he looks like he's mustering his courage, but his voice is steady when he says, with no preamble, "I get that she should have said something, but the thing is, you didn't say anything, either." He says it like the topic of conversation should have been obvious, but it takes Greta a moment to connect Kevin’s little brother’s impassioned but inscrutable conversational sally with her own mostly buried crush on Macy.
Even once she does, she tries to set the record straight with Joe. "There was nothing to say, obviously." She tries to brush past Joe, but he holds firm. "Joe, it was a childish fantasy, with no basis in reality."
Joe mutters something foul-sounding under his breath, and then says, "Just...one last chance, Greta. Please."
She's not actually entirely sure what he means by that, but she is certain of one thing.
"If Macy has something to say to me, she needs to say it herself." This time, she manages to sweep past him. She makes it to the privy outside before she bursts into tears.
...
Meanwhile, Joe’s you-need-to-talk-to-her argument with Macy is going over about a smoothly as a ton of bricks.
And so, time goes on, and Macy is twitchy and quiet whenever Greta is around, and Greta is determinedly cheerful whether Macy is there or not. It seems like it could go on this way indefininitely, but for the fact that time pounds steadily on, whether Macy likes it or not, and before long, Amanda’s ship docks in the city again.
At first, Greta doesn’t actually expect to hear from her, says so to anyone who will listen, and Macy prepares with barely hidden satisfaction to be a shoulder to cry on, or otherwise supportive analogous body part. Here, finally, perhaps she can redeem herself. Just two days on, though, Amanda is waiting at the back exit of the foundry when Greta gets off work.
They’re happy, Macy thinks from her much-removed vantage point, and really, that’s all there is to say about that. Even Joe has stopped telling her to come clean, and if that isn’t a sign that she missed any chance she might have had, Macy doesn’t know what is. She thinks she’s resigned herself entirely to never having all of Greta, never having the shy little smiles that come out whenever she mentions Amanda, or the awed little grin she gets when Amanda shows up when she said she would.
She thinks she’s resigned, but when Greta brings Amanda around to the apothecary, that’s just too much. Rationally, she knows that Greta isn’t trying to hurt her. Greta doesn’t have a cruel bone in her body, and it’s possible that Greta even thinks she’s doing Macy a kindness, bringing the famous Amanda Palmer’s patronage to grace Macy’s little shop. A storefront could thrive for months on a reputation like that, and being situated on the edge of the slums like it is, Macy’s shop needs all the help it can get. Still, the sight of their two bowed heads as they giggle together over the window display distracts Macy enough that the customer whose purchase she is supposed to be measuring asks her if she’s quite alright.
Macy isn’t alright, but she distractedly tells the customer not to worry about it, and then proceeds to try to at least look moderately normal and sane as Greta and Amanda approach the counter. She thinks she pulls it off pretty well, for as long as it lasts, but that’s only for so long as it takes for Greta to drag her companion across the room to stand in front of Macy, smiling giddily and saying something about salve and Amanda’s hands being dried out. It’s not so much that Macy snaps as that she collapses into herself, bowing her head and letting her voice go as small and reedy and thin as it’s been straining to be since she first saw Greta through the shop window today. She steps into the back room, determined to find the salve and send them on their way, and outside the store room, she can hear a whispered argument take place.
She steps out just in time to see Amanda leave the shop, but before she has time to even process what that could mean, Greta is asking her in the most frustrated tone she’s ever taken with Macy, “What on earth was that about?”
Suddenly, Macy is furious. She’s moved from not thinking quite clearly to not thinking at all, which is the only excuse she has for responding, voice tight and unstrung, “I don’t know, Greta, what was it? What in the world could I possibly be upset about?” She pauses for a second, but the moment Greta takes a breath to respond, Macy plunges on, “I understand that she’s a legend and you wanted to show her off, and I understand that as a friend I maybe ought to support you in that, to be happy for you, but you see, I’m only your friend because I thought I knew you, and I never thought you were cruel, Greta.”
Macy pauses enough for a harsh breath, and continues, quieter, “I know we never spoke of it, I know you must think of me as a cowardly child for never speaking to you about it directly, but I know Joe has talked to you, I know you know how I feel, and bringing her here to where I work was unkind, Greta. Even cowards deserve more consideration than that.”
Greta stands gaping for a moment, before saying, “We’re not serious, me and Amanda.” she chuckles a little grimly and says, “I think she fancies her first mate, to be honest, but that’s not the point. She and I, we’ve been, um,” and here Greta blushes, “But I truly only brought her here as a friend, because I know she’ll never find a better apothecary anywhere in her travels.” her sweet, even voice drops softer as she says, “I never knew you felt so strongly, Macy.”
“I do,” Macy says, her voice soft as well, and entirely without her permission, it ends up sounding like quite a different type of declaration. When she looks up, Greta is smiling. Macy smiles back, and holds out her hands. She closes her eyes as Greta’s fingers slide between hers.