text . open spam . 2nd attack

[inhell]

Free stuff outside level 7 cabin 2. I don't want it.

[ spam ]

[She's still feeling the lingering aches from being ill, but she doesn't pay any attention to it. She has a few good meals in her and too much energy to just sit there. She wants to know what happened. Did any of them make it? Are they all dead? How did Colonel Finley feel about it?

And the sight of her own bedroom appalls her.

So she drags out big plastic bins from her closet and starts tossing stuff inside.

Snow globes and fancy headbands. Old clothes. Who needs that many tops? A lamp that doesn't work. A collection of smooth stones; a glass bottle fused shut.

Beaded bracelets. (Except for one that reads BEST, because she knows who had the other one, who had the half that read FRIENDS and for a few minutes she stares at it, unable to move.) Cheap stuffed animals. A whole series of trophies from hockey. A plastic unicorn filled with layers of colored sand. Old ugly sweaters and figurines and half-used collections of colored pencils. Hand-dipped candles, irregular and bulging and leaning noticeably to the side.

She keeps all her books.

She throws away baskets of souvenir paperweights and keychains and cheap jewelry.

And she drags it all out into the hallway, leaving it there in piles.]

Comments

text;

[inhell]

I'm not that nice.

text;

[notdreaming]

[ ...Huh. What a thing to argue. ]

You did a nice thing. That's just as good, for right now, isn't it?

text;

[inhell]

If you say so.

text;

[notdreaming]

So glad you agree. :)

spam

[megamind]

Do you -- not want it-- removed? I mean, I can-- take it and hold on to it, or... [ He figures she'll want it back at some point, no matter what she says in the heat of the moment, but-- what does he know about teenage girls, really? ]

[Spam]

[darknessb4me]

"Stuff." That could be anything.

The tap of metal boots come around the corner far before the man does. He strides up to the pile, white-haired and very tall, in black medieval armor, and stares down at it with cold disdain. Plastic unicorn. Maybe he could use that for... something.

No, probably not. He flicks it aside, along with a few more items on top. Clothes. Toys. This looks like a normal child's things. He feels a little embarrassed to have considered the unicorn.

"Is this everything?"

spam

[inhell]

I want to get rid of it. I don't care where it goes.

[Spam]

[inhell]

She dumps the load of hockey trophies out, and they spill over.

"No. There's some more. But it's girl stuff. Don't know if you'd be interested." Because hulking figures in medieval armor generally don't want to collect the same stuff Ellie does. And she's keeping the useful stuff: toolkits, torches, cricket bat. Hockey stick. Plenty of things you can do to someone with those.

spam

[megamind]

[ Well, alright then. He fires on the other piles, and picks up the cubes. ]

I'll--

If you ever find you want anything back, let me know.

[Spam]

[darknessb4me]

"Girls have weapons. Usually when I'm not expecting it."

This is a lie, he is always expecting weapons. He glances up to make sure Ellie doesn't have an obvious knife on her, in fact.

spam

[inhell]

I won't.

[Spam]

[deadly_ned]

[The Piemaker is away, hiding in the rooms of friends until he can fight through his trauma of last week.

His dog Digby, however, is out and about. He doesn't hear Ellie's announcement - and wouldn't understand it if he did, being a dog - but he does happen upon the big plastic bins. Sticking his head in curiously, he withdraws a shirt, holding it in his jaws.

With shirt in mouth, he trots into Ellie's room and lays down on her floor, calm and obedient.]

[Spam]

[inhell]

She actually relaxes a little, when he says that.

If she had a knife, she wouldn't be obvious about it. It would be in her sock, or under her jacket. She doesn't, but. If she did.

"I was shooting a rifle when I died," she says. "It didn't turn up with me."

[Spam]

[darknessb4me]

"It won't. You need to source or make your own."

The hockey trophy he picks up looks small and brittle in his hands. He flicks the metal, finds it brass rather than gold, and puts it back.

[Spam]

[inhell]

"Hockey," she says. "It's what it's for." A beat. "I was captain of the team."

She should probably feel something, on seeing it. But she just feels numb and frozen.

spam

[megamind]

Okay [ Won't stop him from putting the items in a pouch on his belt, and calling it good. ] You need help with anything?

[deadliestviper]

[Two things bring Beatrix down to Ellie's cabin: Sylvanas' current lack of clothing, and the girl herself. She hadn't checked in on her since she'd gone to the infirmary, and from the post itself Bea assumes Ellie's had some difficulty adjusting to the Barge. So after sifting through the piles in the hallways and picking up a few loose shirts, she knocks on the door to the cabin.]

Ellie?

[inhell]

[ The door's half-open, and inside, Ellie's dumping loads of clothes and hangers onto the floor. They're mostly wooden ones, and they all clack together, a tangle of dresses and tops and skirts. Her school uniforms are on top right now. ]

Yeah? Oh, yeah, hi.

spam

[inhell]

No.

[ She doesn't need any help. She's fine.

She just wants her friends. That's all.

Her arms cross, a bit defiant. ]

spam

[megamind]

Right. Well, I'm down on floor eight, in cabin six, if you do. I'll just head back to my cabin now...

[deadliestviper]

Hi.

[Bea doesn't invite herself in, just leans against the half-open doorway and watches for now. This drive of Ellie's to purge herself of her past makes sense, but she remains convinced there'll be a point where she wants the familiarity back.]

It's tough to settle in, isn't it?

[inhell]

I'm not really trying.

[She doesn't want to settle in.]

[lastrat]

Probably not.

Such as?

[inhell]

My hockey trophies. Dripping with ribbons and glitter.

[lastrat]

Why would you get rid of such treasures?