Celebration by Anna Andriychuk

 “Fancy a drink?” a tall,

elegant-looking glass was suddenly thrusted in front of Catalina’s face, obstructing her view of the lively tavern’s temporary “residents” going haywire on the ground floor.

She stared at this single piece of tableware intently as reddish liquid splashed around carelessly inside it. Wine, most likely, that certainly cost a fortune, handled so unbecomingly of its price, appearing more dignified than the entirety of her squad mates ever could.

“Sorry, not interested,” she gently pushed the glass away, her voice seeming almost distant, like her body was here, but she, unfortunately, wasn’t. Or maybe it was simply the effect of the loud music and celebratory cheers taking over the space all around them, forgoing the need for something so unnecessary as individual thought.

And then the wineglass reappeared. Again.

“Wyn, I swear to gods above,” Catalina frowned, finally turning her attention to the woman standing to her right. Clad in her celebratory uniform, just as Catalina was, Wyn firmly held the pair of glasses in her hands, her hand unwavering in her desire to back down. Like a fight with her honour on the line, Wyn pushed the glass into Catalina’s hands, plopping herself roughly onto the stool beside her.

“Relax a bit,” she chuckled, lightly elbowing Catalina’s side. “This grandiose celebration- nope, no interrupting,” she glanced to her right, shushing Catalina with a soft-hearted glare, “is a one-of-a-time opportunity, and yet you’re sitting here like a moping blanket instead of partying with everyone else.”

“You know I don’t like this kind of gatherings,” Catalina averted her gaze, fidgeting lightly with the intricate piece of glass in her calloused hands.

“Doesn’t mean you have to be a buzz kill.”

“Wyn!”

“What? Am I wrong?” she arched her brow, crossing her legs. “I’m not asking you to get in the middle of the dance floor and bust off some killer moves, you know?” Wyn downed her wine, placing the glass back onto the bar counter behind her. “Just… don’t look like you’ve seen your entire family die of the plague like 5 minutes ago.”

“Wow, what an astute observation,” Catalina grumbled, rolling her eyes. She knew she was being unreasonable. She knew she should be happy, ecstatic, euphoric. But-

“That’s all me,” Wyn smiled, eagerly receiving another glass of wine from the bartender. She swished it around, carefully observing the liquid’s movements. “Think about it from their perspective,” she slowly started: “their captain just received the highest reward a knight could possibly be given, and yet here she looks like a kicked puppy.”

Catalina stayed silent, staring at her reflection in the crimson mirror of the glass. She really did look miserable. Ridiculously so.

“I’m just-,” Catalina hesitated, gripping the glass tighter: “I don’t know if I-“

“You do,” her voice was steady, unwavering. Like she spoke the simplest truth of this world. “You do deserve it. And they know it, too.”

Loud cheers and laughter surrounded the space as comfortable silence stretched between them. Catalina stared at her subordinates celebrating. Celebrating her success. Her triumph.

How could she betray them now, of all times?

“Thanks, Wyn,” Catalina smiled, taking a sip as a small smile etched itself onto her features.

“My pleasure,” Wyn winked, their glass clicking as they both basked in the celebratory atmosphere around them.