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

[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.]

I THOUGHT I REPLIED TO THIS

[inhell]

[ She smiles a little at the sight of him. Dogs don't have secret motivations. They're not complicated. They make love look easy. ]

Digby, right?

[ She settles by him, leaning back against the bed, reaching out to stroke her fingers through his fur. ]

Good dog.

...d'you like fetch, or are you a bit too old?

<3!

[deadly_ned]

[Very much the Barge comfort dog as of late, Digby nudges against Ellie's fingers and settles down beside her, head drifting down to his paws.

Oh, he'll fetch, but he'll do it at his own pace]

[inhell]

[ if he's not enthused, then she's not enthused. Hard to be enthusiastic about anything. ]

Last time I held a dog, it was a little - corgi, you know? Last I saw her, she was wandering around outside. And then...

Big explosion.

If she lived, I'd guess she's still running.

[deadly_ned]

[Flopping his head into Ellie's lap, Digby perks up his ears, expecting pets. He doesn't like to hear of dead dogs, but he'll forego it - he too, after all, is a dead dog. Technically speaking.]