[ prp ] dangerous ( thezil & reese )

[its me debz]

Day 1

The note slid under her door at half past three AM. Whoever left it had been wearing a hood, in generic Amityville branded clothing.

The paper was still wet from rain, and the ink smeared slightly along the bottom of Reese's door.  

[its me debz]

Day 0

Thezil had found a number of magazines sitting in the dump. The pages had been half stuck together, and they were years out of date.

He had no scissors, but a rusted scalpel would do.

Bending the rules to communicate his message for the greater good.  

[lizbot]

Day 1

Reese went from surprised pleasure to terrible trepidation when she saw the note. She hadn't gotten any sort of note or letter since her acceptance into the school, so suddenly getting another was quite the thrill. With two she could make a book of sorts! But then the ghoul read it, the air growing heavy and unhappy around her.

It was from him.

She knew it.

Only he would turn something that she cared about into a threat, a reminder of helplessness and the shock of cruelty. Well....well she would, keep it anyway. It was hers now and she would keep it, because it was a tangible reminder of something. Even if that something was someone terrible.

Though she did take to locking her room every time she left.  

[lizbot]

Day 2

The letter had kept her up all night and day, because it felt like she should do something in return. She should say something or...no, she didn't want to be near him again. But she didn't want to passively accept his threats either. Not again.

In the end she'd settled on giving him a thing. Reese was not very generous with her things, but there was one particular sort that she had many of. After some careful consideration she picked one, and then left it near the place they had met.

In careful block letters she had written on the bottom: Thank You.

 

[lizbot]

Day 3

This made me think of you, so you can have it.

 

[its me debz]

Days I Refuse to Count

Thezil returned to the junkyard, his step an ambling shuffle over ground familiar and well tread. There was something, laid next to a shard of a broken teapot, and he leaned down to pick it up.

The letters were bold, sharp, and could not have belonged to anyone else but her.

He held it in his hand, fingers twitching with the urge to destroy it. Instead, Thezil pinned it to his lapel, letting it become part of his presentation rather than a possession of note.

Two could play at this.  

[its me debz]

Days I Still Refuse to Count

The ship was laid at her door, wrapped in a square of pinstriped fabric, crudely ripped.

Another note read:

Clothing and the like are different. NO OBJECTS.  

[lizbot]

Objection

Reese frowned at the ship, then plucked up the cloth, expression turning thoughtful. Several days later, her door was decorated with a neatly-made, cloth rosette made of pinstripe fabric.  

[its me debz]

Fashion

Whether or not they were her size, Thezil didn't know, but he'd approximated to the best of his abilities. He set the shoes in front of her door, not bothering to knock. She would know who they were from.

They were most certainly "acquired" from a store in Halloweentown.  

[lizbot]

Objectification

Reese opened her door and peered curiously down at the items. Kneeling down, she studied them for quite awhile before picking them up, and going over the shoes with a patient thoroughness, Eventually she would bring them into her room and to the desk that had come with the room that she never used for studying or homework (that would require going to classes) but did make good use of as a work table.

It would take time and care to deconstruct the shoes without damaging the pieces. Even longer to piece them together again as an elaborate little shelf and rack, from which she would hang her growing collection of dangly things in what Reese felt was a very grand style indeed.  

[its me debz]

Patience

They were diametrically opposed in stances. He thought that nothing would last but the sanctity of the in-tangential mind, and she thought that tangential possessions were the only true thing that would endure the sands of time.

They were both right, and they were both wrong, and neither would ever realise or admit to it.

Because, in reality, nothing lasts forever.

In the last few months, he had eased up on the idea of owning anything. There are a few essentials, key to living his unlife in the now, the day to day commodities required to exist. But Thezil did not like it, and had written an extensive essay about it for class.

Rather than turn it in, he slid it under her door, deciding that would be a better use for it.

lizbot

 

[lizbot]

Patience

Reese carefully read the essay with a demeanor that varied between grave serious and the sort of extreme irritation that caused items to fall from her dorm wall. Methodically she went over each section of the essay and broke it into salient points. Each section then received its own review written in her tidy hand, and then a critical analysis of the whole closed out the correspondence. These were all neatly hand bound by the ghost and shipped in a package with a brief note that read:

You are slightly less stupid than I had thought.
But you are still very short sighted and foolish.
What are classes like?

cherno astra