pinesnet | message board post: un: firefly

[Rachel would really love to be posting something to offer shooting lessons sinces she finally has her splat gun back. But that's part of the problem, because between the shop and her own private spelling to make some sleepytime to fill the splatballs with, some bad things have been coming back in bits and pieces. An apartment she never thought she would have gone to again. Kisten bloodied and asking for his lucky pool cue. Kisten…

Kisten.

And tonight while she was opening up the shop and restocking some things, the scent of the lilac had brought back some of the missing pieces, and it was all she could do to get the few customers out the door before she turned the sign over way before closing time.

So now not only is she not posting about her gun, but she's keeping this to text so no one can hear her voice. Maybe that way, they'll actually leave her alone.]

Hey everyone, Rachel here. Sorry for the super short notice, but I had some personal things come up, so Thistle Do It is going to be closed until Wednesday.

[four days should be enough time for her to...do whatever she's going to do, right?]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[a whole bunch of responses are at the tip of Rachel's tongue and fingers, most of them pretty unladylike. But outside of setting something on fire and crying a lot, she doens't know what she's going to do.

And while she wishes Ivy were here, she's not, and this woman...okay she's totally not Ivy, but she seems like the closest she can find in some weird way.

She's not sure how much is safe to say, but screw those effing cameras and that effing notice, Kisten needs to be remembered]

No.

Yes.

I don't want to. But I need to.

Heads up, it's not going to be pretty. And neither am I.

Where are you? The shop?

[No questions asked, no hesitation. Kenzi's been through her fair share of not-pretty. It doesn't phase her.

And she's missing someone, too. Someone definitely not Rachel, but close enough. Rachel needs her, she's gonna be there.]

No, I'm back at my house. I had to close up early because of things.

[yep. Things. That is a totally acceptable answer Rachel, no one will poke at that]

Shoot me the address, I'll be there ASAP

[As soon as Rachel sends it, Kenzi's closing the ancient laptop and heading over. She does take a second or two to grab a bottle of wine from the kitchen with a promise to Rumlow that she'll replace it later.

A while later, and she's knocking at Rachel's door, trying desperately to keep her worry in check.]

[it takes almost everything Rachel has to text back her address and then pull herself off the kitchen floor where she'd let herself collapse after coming home. She's glad she doesn't wear much makeup since it would be running if she did, but she still doesn't want to look at her reflection. She doesn't want to look at anything, doesn't want to remember that the sun is somehow shining even though Kisten is dead. Has been dead for...weeks, almost months. That can't be right. It doesn't make sense. She doesn't want it to make sense.

Still, at the knock, she manages to take a cursory glance around the kitchen to make sure there's nothing incriminating out in the open--her splatgun is in a low cupboard like it would have been in the church, and while there are plants out to dry, her syringe and gloves were put away last night--before she takes a deep breath and runs a hand over her face to try and get the worst of the dampness away. She wavers for a moment on taking off the bracelet, but she can't. She can't let go of all of him, not yet. So she just lets the sleeve of her jacket fall to cover it again as she goes to the door, putting on the wimpiest smile possible]

Hey. Thanks for...[giving a damn? seeing through her bullshit?] stopping by. Come on in. What kind of wine is that? [stupid small talk is good, and also she wants to know if she needs to steel herself for a migraine. But really, she'd take a migraine over the stabbing ache in her chest. She deserved to not be able to look at the light tomorrow]

[Oh, Rachel. She knows that smile. That's an "everything is NOT okay but I can't let anyone know" smile. Kenzi steps inside, actually taking a look at the label on the bottle.]

Hey. No problem. Pinot Noir apparently. Brock's got good taste. [His taste was never in question, especially when it came to the ring on her finger. White gold, black jewels, dainty flowers. Damn. Hopefully he won't miss the nice bottle of wine. Rachel needs it WAY more!

Dancing around the issue seems to be the best course of action until they can at least get the bottle open. Kenzi takes a look around the room, offering a smile that's a lot more solid than Rachel's currently is.]

Nice place. It's really cute. Do you... I mean, are you-- ... here by yourself?

[Maaaaaaaaybe that wasn't the best question to keep things light?]

[Rachel's no wine snob, but she knows that's red. That's okay. She can take a glass or three of sulfur. It won't make her feel any more miserable than she already does, and at least a pain charm can do something about a migraine.

Kenzi's smile is nice. It reminds her that people can be happy. That other people deserve to be happy. There's a small part of her--the part that thought it was the best idea in the universe to take a sentient curse into her body to end the pain--that wants to tell Kenzi to just take the wine and go before her sick blood and horrible luck rub off on the other woman. But she has a gut feeling it won't work even a little, so she just smiles as she steps back to get glasses]

Yeah, it's uh..[she swallows around a knot in her throat, reaching into a cupboard to look for a wine opener to avoid Kenzi's gaze. Even if it hadn't been for the memory of Kisten, this would be hard. The memories of Jenks and Ivy were there right away, even if she hadn't remembered what they were, and even if the house felt so small compared to her church, it felt too big without Ivy and a family of pixies. But she can't talk about them, no matter how much she wants to] It's just me right now. At least it means no one's bitching at me for having plants all over the kitchen.

[finding the bottle opener, she reaches for two glasses with a still fragile-smile]

[Kenzi can't reconcile living alone. Even the memories of before, she knows there was someone else, but it almost hurts too much to think about it? About her... it's like she's repressing it to save herself the pain that Rachel's currently feeling.

She clutches the bottle to her chest as she looks up at the plants and then back to Rachel.]

If anyone tried to bitch at you, I'd serve them up a bitching twice as bad and send them outta here in tears.

[She's not even exaggerating. She knows she's fiercely protective of the people she cares about, but those people aren't here. She's got new people to care about now. Why shouldn't Rachel be one of them?]

I like the plants. They're... cheery. Um. I mean. Not that-- anyone has to be cheery right now or that-- you know... Ugh, okay, I'm seriously bad at dancing around shit. If you need to vent at me, you should vent. I wanna help.

[as much as a part of her hates to feel it, Rachel appreciates that Kenzi's comments can get a smile tugging at her lips. She'd probably like Jenks. She seems like the kind of person who would get a kick out of the Twelve Days of Pixy Christmas]

Thanks. It's not usually quite this messy, but crap keeps hitting the fan.

[that's an understatement Rachel. Dealing with that body had freaked her out enough, and then this. She's not sure if that hadn't been part of what knocked this loose, touching death again. She hadn't known who or whatever that was, but that hadn't made it any less upsetting and it shouldn't have needed to be hidden like that.

She barks out a half laugh at Kenzi's apology, nodding and letting out a long, shuddery breath]>

I've got a boyfriend. I thought he wasn't here because of work. [even if it weren't for the cameras and crap, she'd be careful about what she says about Kisten's position. Even people who accepted vampires might not be so cool around a scion, even a stand-in scion, and she couldn't blame them. She unconciously rubs her neck to try to feel the tingle, remembering the times he played on her scar, how damn careful he'd been with her]

He's uh....not. Working. Or...anything, anymore. [because even if it weren't for all the rules here, she still couldn't make herself say 'dead'. It would make it too real, and she can't let it be yet]

message board post: un: firefly

no subject

no subject

no subject

ACTION

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject