primrosella | Quest 212

Quest 212

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I'm all right. I'm all right. I'm scared and this is a wretched curse and he's a monster, that doctor, he's nothing but a monster but--but I'm all right. I am. I'm safe in the Warehouse and the spells are all up and he can't get me so long as I'm in here. He's not welcome in here, and the Warehouse won't let him in. It threw him out before. It'll throw him out again.

So I'm all right. I've done worse before. Dealing with Lolotte was worse than this. I was alone in Tamir and I managed all right, even when I had to face her myself. I've held Pandora's Box in my hands, and that was worse than this. He's a monster, and he's a madman, but I'm safer here than I was then. I have friends here. I have defenses here. And he's no different than--than an ogre or a troll. He's just a monster.

And a monster can't love, so if it's cursed to do just that--

Because that must be it. He must be cursed, just like everyone else has been cursed, because he wouldn't have listened to me if he weren't. If it were just a matter of scaring me, taunting Cain--then why would he listen? It wasn't like that the last time, when we thought Cain's father might've found me. He talked to me, but he didn't--listen. Then, it was as though I were just a puppet in the midst of a greater game, and my strings were being pulled every which way. But this...

~~A boy with white hair who couldn't get warm, and sat in an alley covered in blood--~~

But what in the world am I going to do with all that--all those things he left? Goodness knows I wouldn't eat that candy if it were the last thing on earth, and I'm certainly not about to put up those flowers anywhere. And that--that jar of--I don't even know what--

It's the sort of thing I'd expect to find in a hag's cave or an evil wizard's laboratory, not on a doorstep. Not on my doorstep! And if he got it here--then where did he get it from, and--

Honestly, why would you ever?!

Ugh. As if I needed any more reason to hate August. Peter's still--there's still no word of him, and I haven't gotten anywhere at puzzling out how to call on Adrastus's mother for help, and Penny's upset and Cain's in an awful mood and I'm in an awful mood, and why shouldn't I be, when there's a madman delivering parts of people to my doorstep? Ugh, this is always such a terrible month. At least now I know about that...oh, what was it? Tanabata? That story about the Sky Princess and the husband she loved, which explains why there are always troubles with love around this time of year. But it certainly doesn't make things any easier to put up with in the meantime.

I've always managed so far. I can manage now. I just have to get things figured out.

Now, if only all this utter silliness would just be over...

[/Private]

One of the first lessons I ever learned in this City was about the importance of understanding. In a place like this, with so many people from so many different places, it's easy to find ourselves caught in the middle of misunderstandings simply because we see things in different ways, and because we've all had different experiences that have shaped the way we approach things now. A word from one place might be the same word in another, but the two words might have completely different meanings. A reality in one place might be nothing more than a story in another. A monster in one world might not be a monster in the next.

The curses bring about a lot of misunderstandings, too. That's the whole point of them, really, to make us do things we normally wouldn't, and to try to make us miserable because of it. And oftentimes, they succeed--especially so with curses like this. The ones that make us act differently are the ones that are hardest to be understanding about, both during and afterward, because they turn us into people we're not, make us do things we wouldn't, make us hurt people we ordinarily love. These sorts of curses are some of the worst to endure, and the hardest to forgive.

And yet, these are the ones when forgiveness is needed the most.

I'm still not certain yet if yesterday's curse really ended at midnight, or if it's decided to persist through today as well. Last year this sort of thing ended at the stroke of midnight, and in a rather humiliating way for everyone concerned. This year, it's much harder to tell.

However, when it finally does come to an end, I hope that we can all find it within ourselves to be understanding about the circumstances, and to be open to the people we've hurt, and to forgive the things we said and did when we couldn't help ourselves. And it's a duty that both people need to engage in--the people that were hurt need to find the strength to forgive, and to not hold those actions against the person that hurt them, and the person that was cursed needs to do the responsible thing and ask forgiveness for the things they did, and apologize for hurting their friend, even if they couldn't help it at the time.

I'd hate to see more friendships needlessly ruined over something as silly as a curse.

I'm very sorry, but I'm afraid I won't be coming in to the Library to help today. I'm feeling a bit under the weather, and so I think I'll be staying in and getting some rest until I start feeling a bit more like myself.

[OOC: My, Rosella's certainly putting on a brave face for someone who found a human heart on her doorstep yesterday. Sob. She'll just be over here hating this curse and hiding inside her magically-warded Warehouse until the world stops being crazy, thanks. ♥]

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[The urge to say something is so strong it's almost painful; it feels like a tightness in her chest, as though it's taking all her strength to keep the secret inside. She wants so badly to explain everything, to pour it all out and fret over every last detail and then in the end have her confidante nod and smile and pull her into a hug and assure her that nothing is wrong, and no one is going to hurt her, and it will all work out in the end. But the person that would normally fill that role is currently off at Princeton, or saving the world again, or running around with cars that talk and transform into giants--and decidedly not here. And no amount of wishing will make it so.

And then there's the problem of confiding in general, since saying something might very well drag someone else into this whole mess, and the last thing she wants is for more people to get hurt because of her. Some poor man died to provide that heart for her doorstep; some poor king died to bring her safely back to the surface. And she can't stand it, can't stand a bit of it, and is reaching her wit's end as to what to do.

So she busies herself with retrieving the pillows from where she left them earlier, grabbing at a handful of the soft, well-worn fabric and walking backwards as she drags them into the den--which gives her a chance to glance up at Claire and smile in a way that she hopes is reassuring.]

Oh, I'm fine. I just-- [had a terrible scare] --I don't much like this curse, you know. All the trouble and the secret admirers and all that. It always causes so much trouble, and people always end up getting hurt. [A pause.] Their feelings, I mean--end up getting hurt. But I think a nice fairy tale is just what I need to take my mind off things! And this sounds like a marvelous one, too. I think I'll like it very much.

[For the most part, Claire doesn't mind the curse. Compared to the recent goings-on in the City, something like this is lighthearted and simple; however, she does recognize the potential for disaster, even expects it, and so Rosella's reaction to what's going on isn't surprising or even difficult to understand. She'd be a liar if she tried to pretend or say that innocent curses like this one hadn't bothered her, too, in the past. Whether or not Claire actually believes Rosella's discomfort is due completely to these past couple days doesn't really matter: she takes it at face value and doesn't push. For now.

Instead, she bends to pick up the end of one of the lumpy pillows and takes it from Rosella, holding it with her arms wrapped around, trying to see over the top as she speaks.]

Some people would probably argue that these past two days have been their versions of fairy tales. I just hope it's not too much of a comedown once everything wears off. And that... no one was actually hurt or sacrificed in the name of love. [She pauses to consider that, glad that she brought her Network device and her phone with her, then looks up again to follow Rosella further down the hall.] But I agree. Just watching a movie in general should be a good enough distraction from everything that's going on. Everyone needs a happily ever after every now and then.

[Sometimes it's the happy endings that remind Claire that it's unlikely she'll ever get to experience her own, whether due to the conditions of her ability or due to her own insecurities surrounding both who she is as a person who's capable of living forever and who and how she is in general. Rosella comes from a world where fairy tales aren't outdated, though, and even less than Claire's ability impeding her from any fairy tales, the world that she lives in and the kind of life that she's grown into doesn't really allow for any fantasies. As strange as that sounds coming from someone who can regrow her toes.]

I brought some leftover cake from Ginny's birthday, if you're in the mood. [The bag over her shoulder slips down and across her back as if to prove this point.] Eating food that's bad for me usually cheers me up.

I've heard it is, actually. Or at least, that there's a celebration going on at the moment that's about a fairy tale, and you know how the deities are with giving us curses that fit the holidays. It seems this one has something to do with a Sky Princess trying to be reunited with her husband, whom she loved more than anything in the world.

[She almost says something about the fact that Claire is a guest, and that she can manage the pillows just fine on her own...but to be honest, it really is much easier with two people helping, and they sooner they get situated, the sooner they can start their movie. Which, in Rosella's opinion, is not a bad thing at all.]

Oh, how nice! Cake sounds lovely, yes, and I did make the popcorn, and of course there are always cookies and things in the kitchen--we're never without them, honestly, since I think it's a very sad kitchen that doesn't have things around to snack on a moment's notice. [And there are always more than she can eat on her own, but that's something different entirely.] And of course, something to drink. You're welcome to anything we have in the kitchen--which is just about anything, really. Tea, coffee, soda, juice, milk, water...

I didn't realize there was a story or a holiday behind it. I've never heard of anything like that.

[She drops the pillow that she's been carrying on the floor once she's in the den properly, then pulls the strap of her bag over her head and drops it down as well. Tupperware shifts against pencils and headphones and a bottle of hand lotion and anything else she's thrown in there: a quiet thump as it all hits the pillow.]

If there's popcorn, then... [Claire considers this a moment and easily decides on her old standby.] Do you have chocolate milk?

I just heard it yesterday, actually. A woman said there was a celebration, and she told me the story about it. And it certainly fits with what happened last year at this time of year, too.

[She drags her own pillow across the den and settles it into place, giving it a light kick or two to fluff it up properly again before surveying the room with a satisfied look.]

We do! I'm fairly certain there's some left after our war against the baked goods the other night. And since you're a guest, I'll even put it in the special pink glass, too.

[She smiles, and it is perhaps the first genuine one she's offered Claire all day. She motions to the big-screen TV and nearby shelves, which are full of various players, video game consoles, speakers, and the like]

I'd...er, imagine that you're a bit better with all this than I am, so would you mind getting the movie ready while I go get everything from the kitchen?

[Both of Claire's eyebrows go up this time, at Rosella's mention of a war against baked goods and about the story she was supposedly told and the amount of equipment she has for games and television. Claire's apartment boasts a nicely sized TV and Zach and Hiro's abandoned game consoles in addition to some more meager and recent purchases on Claire's part, so the sight of Rosella's den leaves her somewhat impressed. Then again, she shouldn't actually be surprised, considering Sam's general disposition.]

Sounds good to me.

[Although she'd like to argue that Rosella not go to any special lengths for her, Claire doesn't make any sort of comment, instead stepping up to the television and DVD player to check that things are hooked up as they should be. The atmosphere is cozy, as homey as it gets when you know you're nowhere near what constitutes as your Kansas, and Claire feels herself relaxing by degrees, working the movie out of her bag and loading it into the DVD player with nimble fingers. From still in the den, she turns in the direction of the kitchen.]

Why was there a celebration? What was the story?

[The question of what happened last year at this time is a present one, but Claire has her own memories of that stretch of August, but asking about something light when the mood is meant to be kept light seems like a better plan. Out of the corner of her eye, the movie's menu comes up on screen, and Claire settles back down on her pillow, waiting for Rosella to come back as she takes the Tupperware out of her bag.]

[State-of-the-art though it may be, the technology in the den really doesn't see a whole lot of use; while Rosella could probably puzzle her way through firing up one of the consoles for a game of Mario Kart, there isn't much point to playing now that Sam isn't around. It, like the cars, the cases containing guns and tools and auto parts, and most all of the other things still sitting around the Warehouse that used to be Sam's, mostly just rest in their assigned places and get dusted every once in a while, just to keep them in good, clean condition. But it's good that the system is getting some use now, Rosella muses as she heads for the kitchen, and perhaps she really ought to use it more often after this. As she bustles around the kitchen fetching things, she hears Claire call out from the den and answers in kind.]

I could tell you right now, but it might be better to wait a minute for it, so we're not yelling all over the house!

[Not that she'd mind yelling all over the house, honestly. One of the troubles of the Warehouse is that it can seem so big at times...big and empty. And it's especially so when she has something to be worried about, the way that she does now. Shaking her head quickly to clear it, she neatly assembles a set of plates, forks, bowls of popcorn, and two glasses--one pink with glitter and sparkles trapped between the layers of plastic, the other a plain but pretty shade of blue--onto a tray, then picks it up and carries it back with her to the den.]

Here we are! [And she offers the tray to Claire, punctuating the announcement.] Your chocolate milk is in the pink one. The blue one is my root beer.

[Rosella has a point and Claire laughs, though not loudly enough to be carried out of the den and into any of the other rooms. She leans back and sinks down, trying to make herself as comfortable as possible without looking as if she's actually trying. It isn't necessarily that she feels uncomfortable at all; rather, there is a certain level of expectation that Claire is aware people sometimes have for even something as simple as hanging out and watching a movie, and while Claire has no doubts in her mind that this doesn't have to be anything more than that, she's aware that there's something else going on here. Rosella's hurried attempt to shut the door behind the both of them still weighs on Claire's mind when the other girl comes back in through the kitchen, supplies along with her.]

Thanks. [The emphasis is given with a tilt of her head, mouth curling at the corner as she takes the tray itself to set on the floor in front of them. Claire lifts her glass to take a drink. Her voice is thick with a swallow when she says anything else.] It's like my very own personal princess goblet.

[The Tupperware slides easily across the floor to present four pieces of cake: two chocolate, two yellow. Unsure as to which flavor Rosella might like more, Claire had brought both just in case. And she could personally never have enough comfort food so two per person seemed, at the time, like a safe bet. With a nod, she indicates the television. Maybe stories of sky princesses could wait until after stories of ones who were being made to be brides.]

It's ready whenever you are.

It's not quite a bejeweled chalice, I'm afraid, but the sparkles are just as pretty, I should think.

[And now it's Rosella's turn to get settled in, once the tray has been securely installed on the floor in front of them and the food appropriately distributed. She retreats to her own pillow, sinking down much in the same way that Claire did, but somehow still retaining the look of someone trying to curl up and hide in its depths as opposed to being supremely comfortable in them. Reaching over to retrieve the remote--since she did learn how to use that, and the buttons are really rather simple if you know the proper way to work them, anyway--she glances over at Claire and then nods her assent.]

All right, then! If we're all set, I'll start things playing.

[Because it'll be fine, really. She has company, and something with which to distract herself, and this is just what she needs at the moment. Or at least, it will be once she leans forward and picks her glass off the tray, holding it securely in her lap with one hand while she presses the play button with the other. And if nothing else, the movie will give her plenty of time to settle down and think, and then perhaps she'll be able to approach the rest of it more calmly afterward.]

Hang on!

[A small adjustment has her twisting on the pillow just a bit, the bowl of popcorn brought up to sit on the floor at her side within the flop of a hand's reach. She has her own piece of cake - yellow, dark chocolate icing - balanced on the flat of her stomach, and with a twist of her wrist, she flicks her hair behind her shoulders and settles in. Feet outstretched, she looks back over toward Rosella, poised with the power of remote control.]

Okay. All set.

[Claire only spares one more glance, at the moment, in Rosella's direction, abrupt and short and only out of the corner of her eye, just one attempt to make sure that things are as okay as they can be for now. She's not quite sure she believes that Rosella is as fine and dandy as she pretends to be, but for the moment it is just one more shell in a collection to be admired and poke at later. For now, Claire can look back at the television screen as a familiar scene swells and starts, as the story lays itself out like the unveiling of a new painting, as she crosses one arm over her stomach and takes a drink of chocolate milk, exhaling.

For now, Claire can be comfortable.]

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Quest 212

pass the parcel, wrap unwrap, and open up the locks

pass the parcel, wrap unwrap, and open up the locks

pass the parcel, wrap unwrap, and open up the locks

pass the parcel, wrap unwrap, and open up the locks

pass the parcel, wrap unwrap, and open up the locks

pass the parcel, wrap unwrap, and open up the locks

pass the parcel, wrap unwrap, and open up the locks

pass the parcel, wrap unwrap, and open up the locks

pass the parcel, wrap unwrap, and open up the locks

pass the parcel, wrap unwrap, and open up the locks