st_igmatized (
st_igmatized) wrote in
strangetrip2018-05-15 12:18 am
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
[GP/EP] Check-in Day
It was a musical day at the Madonna Inn, both inside and out. Curnen had taken her usual place up on the roof and was singing charms to the sky to keep any wanderers from getting lost (though that part of it was not immediately obvious). Unrelated to that, Sunny was on the dance floor in the bar, summoning songs of her own with her knife to keep her moving before she went to do her shift at the library later. It was one of those days where if she thought about it too hard she’d start thinking about that empty bed in her shitty room and the person she most wanted to be there.
This of course eventually seeped into her magic. She knew better. Maybe she’d even wanted that to happen.
Because just once, between different pop hits and dance beats came a rather unexpected French love song. She sighed and rolled her eyes, but the exasperation didn’t last. Before the lyrics started up she was waltzing. By herself and not caring how it might have looked. And for those three and a half minutes, she dared let herself hope for the slimmest chance that Orlu might come through that door.
She didn’t let herself hope too hard, though. There was admitting to feeling things and there was setting yourself up for certain disappointment. She’d lived too long with disappointment to do that to herself.
This of course eventually seeped into her magic. She knew better. Maybe she’d even wanted that to happen.
Because just once, between different pop hits and dance beats came a rather unexpected French love song. She sighed and rolled her eyes, but the exasperation didn’t last. Before the lyrics started up she was waltzing. By herself and not caring how it might have looked. And for those three and a half minutes, she dared let herself hope for the slimmest chance that Orlu might come through that door.
She didn’t let herself hope too hard, though. There was admitting to feeling things and there was setting yourself up for certain disappointment. She’d lived too long with disappointment to do that to herself.
Re: Assigned Threads
He didn't go around discussing the attack on New York with everyone, but this was the first time he'd ever heard of anyone actually knowing who they were.
Peter files this information away for later.
"Your room's all the way down this hall," he says, and when they finally pass his room, Peter directs a finger at it. "This is my room. And this one's yours."
Peter points a finger at the one right next to it -- the one closest to the window at the end of the hall.
Re: Assigned Threads
As for the room - end of the hall was great. Only one direct neighbor, and it was the humie kid who seemed more like some kind of fluffy baby animal who'd been shoved into clothes and then strategically shaved. Rocket had to reach up a bit to apply the key to the lock, because like all doors everywhere it was built to a scale literally over twice as tall as him.
But when the door opened, revealing the room? All the dire 'you won't be able to mess with it' reminders didn't matter so much. Rocket was pretty sure he wouldn't need to mess with it. It was blue, not pink. There were windows. There was a balcony - an escape route if he needed one. "I'm pretty sure I can live with this."
Re: Assigned Threads
"Most of the rooms are pretty nice," Peter says. "It's just the decor that upsets people." Peter wasn't particularly ruffled by his room, but he knew plenty of people that were.
"I have a roommate," Peter says, because that probably bares explanation. "There's two rooms and he lives in the other one. His name is Alec, so if you see anyone leaving the room that isn't me, it's probably him."
Re: Assigned Threads
After another few seconds of evolving short term plans, Rocket added as if forced, "Thanks for the help, kid."
Re: Assigned Threads
Even though there's a good chance that they're not always going to be.
"I'll be next door," Peter says jerking a thumb at the wall adjacent to his room. "If you need anything else, just let me know."
Peter heads for the door, then turns around right when he's about to slip out.
"It was good meeting you, Mr. Rocket!"
Re: Assigned Threads
By his face, the answer was yes. Rocket repressed the urge to... actually, no he didn't. He rolled his eyes. "Just Rocket! I'm not Mr. anything, got it? Get lost!"
Re: Assigned Threads
"Okay, sorry!" Peter says. He tries to open his mouth to correct himself -- to just say Rocket, but every time the word starts to come out, he can feel the Mr. right there on the tip of his lips.
So before he can say it again, Peter Parker scrambles out the room and shuts the door closed behind him.
He presses his back against the door and takes a breath.
So far, today has been a really interesting day.