The Roar of Our Stars Round 3: Chat 4

This may well be my favourite chat log.

Icon credits: First, Second and Third.

homerunhero: RO

shillelaghins is offline.
Your message will be sent when shillelaghins logs in again.

homerunhero: RO GET ONLINE IT’S IMPORTANT

shillelaghins is offline.
Your message will be sent when shillelaghins logs in again.

thelibrarian: hey
i wanted to apologise

Persephone leaned back in the rocking chair, a bemused smile fixed on her face. She never really knew what to think of Vivane. They didn’t speak often. Perhaps that was why neither her words, nor Kaapo’s terse reaction and subsequent switch to Busy made any sense to Persephone.

She crossed her eyes at the screen and wondered if it that was the way Vivane’s mind worked.

A knock on her door nearly jerked her out of the rocking chair. She set her computer on the floor and got up. “I’m doing my homework, I don’t want any dinner!” She propped her hands on her hips and glared at the door for good measure.

There was no answer. The doorknob rattled, startling her out of her petulant pose. She clapped a hand over her chest and backed away from the door.

“Daddy?”

He was overprotective and overbearing, but any answering bluster on her side usually wore him down sooner or later. He was not good at being pushy. Not pushy, per se. The door shook in its frame.

Persephone backed away from the door. Someone else was in their house. Her mind went immediately to her mobile.

It was in her bag. Her bag was sitting on the coffee table downstairs.

Another rattle, so hard that she could hear wood beginning to splinter. She grabbed her iPad from her cluttered desk and hurried to the window.

Hearing from Persephone was all that Kaapo needed to calm down and burn with embarrassment over his apology. The crazy girl was no less crazy. He was quickly beginning to feel stupid for believing Vivane’s story.

Except… Ro talked about her occasionally. Although her stories and opinion did not mesh well with Kaapo’s own experience, one thing suddenly struck him. Vivane was not a liar. He didn’t believe a lot of the things that she said, but that wasn’t the same thing as lying.

But was her problem that she was crazy and merely believed her own ramblings, or had she merely failed to be convincing?

He shook his head. This line of thinking was precisely what had led him to apologise. He’d walked away from their previous conversation and made up for her failure by convincing himself.

“Fool me twice, shame on me?” He knuckled his forehead, slumping in his chair.

Nintendo started barking again. Sighing, Kaapo shuffled off to the bathroom, hoping against hope that the dumb dog had finally forgotten whatever harrowing ordeal he had experienced, and was just demanding to be let back outside.

The barking ceased as soon as he stepped in front of the bathroom door, the floor creaking underfoot. “Maybe you’d get over stuff faster if I changed your name to ‘Goldfish’…” He poked his head in, grinning.

The bathroom was empty.

Ronit would be safe at the movies. Vivane rubbed at her goose-pimply skin and glared out the window.

Her usual clothing was not sufficient cover for the snowy landscape. Unfortunately, she had not thought about this until she’d already gone outside. Reconaissance had paid out a dividend of squat-point-diddly, and she’d returned to her rig.

But then, not long after, a shudder had gone throughout the house.

She shielded her computer from damage, then wheeled around. She typed a quick goodbye to her friends, just before the power shut off.

In the dark, her chances of finding anything warm to wear were not high. Even stumbling forward and flailing only yielded a sharp pain in her arm.

Breathing through her teeth, she snatched up the thing that she had literally hit upon. It was a hard, angular thing. A box.

A package.

She struggled to activate it, then watched in careful delight as the bright purple lights of the bot’s eyes flickered on. It climbed out into her arms, like a scared toddler to its mother. “I guess this is how it goes,” Vivane murmured, patting its head. “It’s freezing outside.”

The bot’s eyes flickered a pattern over her, so fast and bright that she had to look away. A few seconds later, she was dressed in a pair of loose trousers, a baggy sweater, and a long, heavy trench coat.

Her baseball bat had also reappeared in her hand.

She tucked the bot into the parka, zipped it, and then stumbled out the door. This time, she was prepared.

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