Darklis Tinka (mindblowing) wrote in light_of_may, @ 2011-09-06 02:11:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | 2009-08-21, darklis, rina |
I'm not a problem that needs solving
Who: Darklis & Rina
Where: Home
When: Not long after 3pm
Orientation was all that Cole said it would be and more. Information about the school that she already knew because the House of Azrael was competent enough to brief family members before sending them into a hormonal battlefield, a tour she could have given herself with that map and enough time alone, introductions to any staff present were redundant as she saw it since they would be present when school started and she would meet them all then, but the peppy 'you're gonna love it here!' speech the telekinetic had mentioned had been the best part by far. Having raised her empathic shield to save herself from the pains of any apprehension felt by other new students, Darklis could not tell if all of that enthusiasm had been false, but she remained skeptical. She was far more comfortable with her reservations than she was believing all of these students and their parents - or, indeed, the staff - would welcome her with open arms. That was to say nothing of the school year itself. The 'and more' part came in the form of Rina's familiar, Trouble. Rina wanted some time alone, Trouble wanted to go to Orientation and naturally it would do Darklis good to have company. Were it not for the fact that she was soon to be late by her own rather high standards, the vampire would have pointed out that having fangs was asking for enough trouble, but literally having Trouble in your bag was just stupid. Besides which, it meant she had to go get another bag to fit both her stuff and the fuzzball. But then said fuzzball wouldn't say quiet and throughout Orientation Darklis' face remained glazed marble while she tried to ignore the voice in her head telling her things like 'One tap for yes, two taps for no. They'll think you have a nervous disorder.' because she could not reply out loud. She could not hurt her cousin's familiar. If only because she had somehow managed to make the times she caught anyone staring at her a little easier to handle. Someone with a cat in their bag should be stared at.
But why had Rina never mentioned her birthday? It was more important than Orientation by miles and, yes, Trouble, they could have party hats. Party hats and food and silly string and those things that you blew into that made weird noises - not party poppers, they might set off some kind of trauma - and whatever else she could think of or get her hands on while she took them through a route of stores she didn't really know. She barely noticed Trouble nudging her purse into her hand before she showed everyone near the counters that she was carrying a kitty around with her. The moment she was asked if she wanted help carrying her shopping, though, was when Darklis realised that they needed to stop. In her defense, her handbag was heavier than a lot of these bags were because it had a cat in it. A cat, and then all of her things. Her things were heavier than Trouble, but still.
"Trouble, you're in the--Fuck. Sorry, ignore me, I'm not talking to you."
The last part was directed at the cab driver while Darklis juggled with Trouble, paying him and trying to seize the phone that had been making a pretty good effort at giving the former concussion. A string of texts from multiple people; not one from the same person. By default that did not sit well with her. The only times things like that ever happened were for congratulations, condolences or emergencies. She didn't see how the first two applied. Unless they're all laughing at me. That thought put her hackles up and she stuffed a note into the driver's hand, knowing but not really caring that she was overpaying him by far. His protests that he was not a charity case bounced right off her. Members of the House of Azrael were supposed to keep up with their donations to various charities, she reasoned as she piled out of the car with her bags. That was her job done for the day. Or something. She was too damn frustrated with the constant buzzing from her phone to think about that.
Okay. First text. Lenhard. Check news. Michaela. Made the news. Pyotr. Have you seen the news yet? And on and on and on... Seventeen of them. If it wasn't so annoying, the number might have been funny. Stabbing the key into the keyhole, she pushed the door open way harder than she needed to and actually apologised to whatever it was it hit that made such a loud noise. Her handbag was set on the armchair with some degree of care, the rest on the sofa opposite with... and equal amount of care because somewhere in there was Rina's birthday present and where was the remote?
"Rina? We're back!" Though if she'd thought about that at all, the door and her heels on the floor had probably declared that. "Do you know where the re--Got it!" Kneeling on the floor in front of the television with her ankles angled impossibly out either side of her, Darklis hit the volume button. Then again. And again, until the news was probably blaring out across the downstairs floor.
They were almost as fast as fucking Gossip Girl.