#ask replies.

for once in a really long time, chrissy feels happy. she feels like she's having fun. and this saturday it's just the two of them. she keeps getting creative excuse after excuse just to sneak her way into detention on a random saturday morning, but it's knowing that she will find john here, and that he often than not he'll be the only soul in this school.

she's playing a dangerous game. running with scissors. the type of careless that she shouldn't be. unsupervised, the whole library to themselves. it feels less like a cage and more like they are suspended in time. her head on her cheek. she should feel guilty, she should feel bad. her eye lashes flutter, looking up, up. and then away suddenly shy. "i think for a date to be a date someone must ask another person to go on a date." she's just scribbling in her notebook, her name, little stars, little hearts. "i don't remember anyone asking me anywhere about anything. i just keep finding you here." like she knows where to look now to find him. there's the other thing, isn't it. it can't be a date because well. she's got a boyfriend. so, there's also that.

@risingshine sent: 「 ༀ - daddy. 」 surprisingly flat for the monotonous robot; but clearly a playful one.

she wasn't really expecting anyone to take the bait on that one. warm chuckle, and definitely a little buzz in her tone already.

"am i?" astarion acts aloof. lashes frame red eyes, astarion's attention is fickle. changing, and he doesn't know how he feels about one eddie. his ears flick, trying to appear uninterested. but eddie's holding a book, and it looks important and shiny and powerful. "my, my, you are observant. i do admire that in you." he isn't trying to be rude but if he comes across as such it is not his problem. not his issue. he wants to get his hands on the book. "-i could perhaps hold onto that for you. it looks awfully heavy. uh...hmmm...what is it?" naturally curious, if it involves well. any sort of valuable then he is much more interest.

note to self, always trust your first instinct. the one that says, eddie munson is an annoying asshole. stay clear. stay minty, and frosty. veronica's hands curl into little fists, not much in the way of damage. much more versed in the art of frustration. "that's very interesting, eddie. i'm dying to know some more about how you are on top of the world and looking down on the rest of us."

DEAR DIARY, day three of following some lunatic across this miserable town. he is driving me crazy. i should let him get swallowed up by the very angry mob but then again i would miss all the fun. god as my witness, he definitely didn't kill chrissy cunningham, he couldn't kill a fly if it landed on him. i've seen it, the opposite of the grinch. heart four sizes too big. except when he's talking to me. for some reason. i guess a big heart doesn't stop you from being a cunt.

she keeps walking next to him, as she's putting on a show. commands attention in a way that she should find distasteful. (for the record, she does not. she finds it entertaining. and maybe a little charming. but that's for her to handle.) "-so? what is it? what about me has you utterly restless? spill." and she doesn't need to be helping him. she is getting some funny kick out of this. she gets to avoid everything and everyone. dig a hole and crawl in, fun.

bandages off. and somehow he feels even more naked, bared and witnessed to the strange markings that set him apart from most other people, normal people. the wounds would never close, he waited for them to close for the longest time. and now.

there's red, the wet feeling spreading through out his palm. his initial hesitation sheds, his hand is perfectly still in her grasp, nails painted haph hazardly. his heart is beating fast, her tongue on his palm, her tongue on his wound. his breath shudders and he closes his eyes. a warm feeling, a shiver up his spine.

he winces. "violet." no one's seen it before, less drank from it. he feels lightheaded, wrapped up in emotions. he's never had anything but the inconvenience to simply deal with it. punk looks down, at her eyes half lidded. he doesn't want to speak less he ruins the act. something that spells devotion, tending the wound. he could cry if he would allow himself. he doesn't. free hand extends, holds her cheek, staining it with the blood from the other hand. holy, damned. he still gets the sinking feeling in his stomach, followed by ecstasy.

"they can definitely be...tenacious." neyvin agreed, after a moment of thought. he taps the handle of the mug of tea thoughtfully.

iago isn't the first of those in their group to say something of that effect to them over the time they had known them all. and each time neyvin wished they had better words to offer.

"the world is magical." fiadh remarked, bustling back over to him, giving kenichi a soft look, "fairies don't make it rain, but the fact that it is a complex inter-working of several different cycles that do make it rain is a little magical."