burn, burn, burn your life down

Dani has never been very good at saying no to things. That's been the case ever since she was young, really, not wanting to be burdensome or to take up too much space. Growing up, as her sister's problems got bigger, she — on some barely conscious level — made herself smaller, any problems she had paling in comparison, any needs she had less important. She's aware of that tendency now, and the ramifications it's had on her adult life, but in a distant, hazy way, something part of her is afraid to examine too closely for what she might find if she did. It would call too much into question.

It's easier just not to go there, just like it's easier not to argue when she gets looped into other people's plans. She likes most of the other students in her psych classes, and it's nice to be included — to have people who consider her a friend, even if tangentially so, someone who gets invited on group outings but doesn't really spend time with any of them one-on-one or have deep personal conversations. It suits her just as well. She doesn't like to talk about herself or her life.

Another thing she's not very good at, though, is being social. She can fake it well enough, but it usually amounts to her standing or sitting off to the side, only halfway taking everything in. Such is the case tonight. The others are chatting boisterously, and Dani, meanwhile, sits at the far end of the table they've commandeered, idly twirling the glass of the drink she's barely had any of. It's fine. It's not ideal, but it's fine. She just wishes she'd brought some of her homework to try to get done.

A sudden gust of cool air signals the door to the bar opening. She doesn't think much of it until a few minutes later, when she happens to glance over at the bar and sees Vanya standing there, suit-clad and violin in tow. Excusing herself from the table, though she doesn't think anyone hears her, Dani heads over, angling her way in when there's an opening, smile lopsided and a touch awkward.

"Vanya? Hey," she says, gesturing to the violin. "Did you have a performance?"

With the semester having begun and Dani having finally committed herself to starting her doctorate again, she knows it's only going to be a matter of time before she's snowed under with schoolwork. When she stops to think about it too much, she still winds up painfully anxious over it, uncertain if this is the right idea or if it's going to be too much for her, but at this point, she supposes it's a bridge she'll have to cross if she gets to it. Anyway, at least she will have tried. Her therapist says that counts for something, but she isn't exactly very good at being straightforward with her therapist, too prone to downplaying her feelings at any given time, so Dani isn't actually sure how much difference that makes.

The important thing right now is that she's likely to be busier than usual soon, and while she still sees Maeve plenty at work, it seemed like a good time to go out and do something fun while they both have the time for it. The beaches in Darrow are crowded at this time of year, but not all of them are too crowded. This particular one, with a cute beachfront café nearby but away from the bustle of the boardwalk, is one of the quieter spots, for which Dani is pleased. Crowds aren't really her forte. Neither is having to watch a plethora of family outings.

"At least it's not too hot," she says absently, pulling her hair into a messy bun off the back of her neck as she speaks. The temperature has been inconsistently up and down lately, but this has been one of the nicer days they've had, neither too oppressively hot nor stormy. Glancing out at the water, she thinks first that she's just seeing light reflecting on the surface in the distance, but a closer look gives her a little doubt on that front, and she gives Maeve a quick nudge. "Hey, do you see that?"

The world is spinning, and she's spinning with it.

Dani doesn't know how long it's been. Hours, maybe, or minutes, or days; with the sun always so high in the sky, it feels like it could have been that long and it would be impossible to tell. She's not even sure how much time they've spent in Hålsingland at all, and now wouldn't be the time to make sense of it. As it is, she can barely think or step straight, dimly aware that whatever that tea was they gave her to drink before the competition must have been stronger than she thought. She stumbles as she spins, panting for breath, trying to follow the instructions that she doesn't understand, which seem to equate to stop and go, change directions and spin. Though she hasn't got a clue what she's doing, it's kept her going this long. For some reason that she's much too far gone to try to pinpoint, it makes her want to continue, easier though it might be to give in.

The music is slower now, at least, or maybe she's only hearing it that way. There are only a few of them left, too, Dani laughing with the girl beside her, feeling lighter than she has in longer than she can remember, anxiety at least momentarily giving away to a dazed sort of amusement. She doesn't even know the girl's name, but somehow, she knows what she's saying, the two of them having found a language all their own.

"We don't need words to talk! It's dancing!" she says, or thinks she says, whirling as she continues to move. The girl is gone when she turns back around, though, and Dani isn't sure, for a moment, what's happening. There's a drumbeat, a pronouncement, and everyone is running towards her, their hands raised, laughing delightedly. Her own laughter has faded, replaced with confusion and fear; her instinct is to shrink back, to run away, but they've surrounded her, and they seem happy to do so.

"What? What?" she asks, directing the question at anyone who can hear. "What's happening?"

The old woman who'd been giving instructions before comes towards her with a crown of flowers, bigger and brighter than the one she was wearing before, that someone else has removed. "You are our May Queen," she declares, touching Dani's face affectionately.

"Me?"

"Yes!" the girls beside her say.

She still thinks there must have been some mistake, unable to make sense of what's just happened. "Why?"

"You won!" the woman says, warm and proud.

"What does that mean?"

This time, no one answers. They drape a little cape of flowers around her shoulders, soft hands touching her face and arms as they usher her forward, until they've all gathered and someone takes pictures, one from a distance, the next up close to her. Dani just stares, lost and confused, all of this seeming somehow wrong.

From a distance, separate from everyone else, Christian stares back.

Dani doesn't look for long, though, before they whirl her around again, too dazed to do anything but go along with it. Everything is a blur. Everyone is, too, all the people leaning in to touch their nose to hers or pet her shoulders, all smiling at her like they're happy she won, like they're happy to have her there. She can't return that happiness, her head too heavy on her shoulders, the crowd blending together until the faces in it start to look familiar.

Terri walks by. Her father. Her mother. Her family, all of them gone now.

"Mom? Mom?" she asks a little desperately, trying to hold onto that face, but the woman is gone in the crowd, as if she'd never been there at all. For such a small place, there seem to be an impossible number of people now, none of them even looking familiar in her disoriented state.

Pelle, she knows, though, the smile he wears easing some of the knot of tension in her chest, if only for a moment. "Oh my God, Dani! May Queen!" he says, with a thrilled sort of awe, then puts his hands on her face and leans in to kiss her, really kiss her. Dani can't remember the last time someone kissed her like this, but it feels good, and she leans into it without stopping to think about why or what it means. She couldn't do that if she tried right now, anyway.

He steps aside, someone caresses her cheek, and finally she sees what they've been moving her towards: a yellow, sun-shaped platform being carried out by some of the men. They set it down in front of her, and she knows what she's supposed to do, stepping up onto it even with her wobbly legs.

Nothing happens.

She turns, unsteady as she does, to find that they're all gone. Not walking away, but gone-gone, vanished as if into thin air. Everything has, for that matter. The houses, the buildings, the weird yellow temple, the maypole. Pelle is gone, and the girls she danced with, and the woman who looks like her mother. Even the sun is gone, replaced suddenly with thick grey clouds. It's been so long since she saw a cloudy sky that they almost don't seem real. The way they pulse slightly, as if alive, breathing, doesn't help matters, either.

Her face tipped up, she realizes it's raining, water splashing down onto her cheeks and forehead. She hurries off the yellow platform, as if that will make any difference, and wraps her arms around herself. The white shift they gave her to dance in doesn't seem like enough, now. It's hardly the most of her concerns, though, when she doesn't even know where she is, staring dazedly ahead until she sees someone approach, the sight somehow both frightening and relieving.

"Hello?"

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