|Saint Patrick ☘ (shamrocked_) wrote in nevermore_logs,|
@ 2012-04-05 08:55:00
|Entry tags:||death, famine, saint patrick|
Who: Famine, Death, & Patrick
What: Famine goes to check on see her friend, and bumps into her sister along the way (Originally posted by Famine)
When: Wednesday afternoon
Where: On the streets, then Patrick & John's place
Famine hadn't seen Patrick in a couple of weeks, and, even though she would only admit it to him, she kind of missed him. He accepted who and what she was unconditionally, even after all they'd been through. So instead of laying around her apartment that afternoon, she thought she'd drop by and pay him a visit. She texted him to let him know she was coming over, grabbed a batch of the Parmesan asiago rolls she'd baked yesterday, and headed for Patrick & John's apartment.
She hadn't gone more than a few steps, however, when she felt another familiar presence sparking in the back of her brain. One of her sisters, unless she was very much mistaken. And she highly doubted that she was. She lowered her sunglasses, casting looks around as she looked for whoever it was that was nearby.
Death was strolling about in the Springtime and she lifted her lips, pleased, when she saw her sister in front of her. She lifted a hand to wave, looking up and down Famine.
"Hey. Out and about?"
Famine gave a small smile of her own. "Yeah, kinda. Just heading over to Patrick's for my semi-monthly Saint visit." She held up her rolls. "And I wouldn't want to be a bad guest. What are you up to?"
Death knew Famine had some kind of strange affection for Patrick that she didn't entirely understand. Though the fact that she didn't really have any kind of emotion for anyone except her fellow horseman would explain that.
"Just walking," Death explained. "Every so often I get stopped by someone who asks if I shouldn't be in school. I find it amusing." Then she changed the subject.
"Patrick, hmm? What's he like then?"
"It's cuz they think you're young and innocent," Famine said, smirking just bit because she knew her sister was neither. "They're just looking out for your welfare."
"Patrick is...complicated and simple all at once," she said at last. "We go way back. We got into it a couple months ago, and ended up friends, weirdly enough. He feeds me like I'll actually gain weight, and listens when I talk. It's nice." She shrugged, at a loss. "He's better experienced than heard about, I think."
"I'm the one looking out for their welfare," Death said wryly. "But I understand their confusion."
That sounded interesting. "I don't usually hang around saints but I might as well try new things. If you don't mind me tagging along. I'll behave."
"I know that, and you know that, now try filling in the rest of humanity," Famine said, dry humor evident in her tone.
She shrugged, pulling out her phone. "I don't care, just let me tell him." She fired off a quick message to Patrick: 'Heads up, Death is coming too, is that cool?', then stuck her phone back in her pocket and gestured at her sister. "Come on, his place is this way." She pried open her box and started munching on a roll, holding them out to Death. "Want one?"
She waved her hand around, refusing the roll for now. Death had an unhealthy obsession for take out from really disgusting noodle places. She like the grit and the scunge. And she had just inhaled an order of Tom Yum that was more Tom Yuck before happening upon Famine. "I ate noodles. Though if this Patrick provides something sweet I might be game."
"Ah, well, you might be in luck there," Famine said with a smile. "I'd swear he's also the saint of baking, he always seems to have cookies on hand. Can't make any promises, mind, but there's always a chance. It's not much farther, so I guess we'll see." She finished leading the way to Patrick and John's building, pressing the buzzer and waiting for her friend to appear.
Death tried to arrange herself to look a little more respectable, but mostly she looked like a slightly dirty teenager with ripped jean shorts, fishnet stockings, and a t-shirt that was a little too small for the still slightly chilly weather. But Death hardly noticed the temperature.
Patrick answered the door looking slightly wary since Famine had warned him that Death was tagging along. "Er...hello," he said with a nervous smile. He waved like a dork and then flushed bright red. "Ahem. Come in?"
Famine waved and held up her box. "Hey," she said. "Death, Patrick. Patrick, this is Death, who has promised to behave, so I'm pretty sure you don't have anything to worry about. And who would also not be averse to trying one of your cookies, should you happen to have any on hand."
She deposited the box on the kitchen table, then turned to look at Patrick. "Haven't seen you for a while," she said at length. "How's things?"
Patrick did have cookies on hand and for that he was grateful. "Butterscotch chip," he said, retrieving them from the counter. "Nice to meet you, Death."
"You can call me Claudia if you find 'Death' too weird," she said with a shrug. She helped herself to a cookie and then leaned back so her sister could have time with her friend if that was what he was to her.
"Claudia it is," Patrick nodded, though he was fairly sure he would forget that. "Things are okay with me. I'm a little run-down lately. Coming off the high of March, but at least I'm not running at 200% any more." Patrick handed her a cookie too and he smiled at her. "You?"
"Yeah, I figured March might have been a little rough for you," Famine replied. "But things have calmed down, yeah? You're not going to shoot confetti out of your hands? Not that I'd mind, it's usually awesome."
She shrugged. "Africa's in an uproar, I can feel it in the back of my mind. They're less than a hairsbreadth from actually needing me, but I can't go until I get the push. So I'm pretty on edge, which kind of sucks, because I can't focus, and I get headaches, and I may as well not eat at all, for all the good it does me." She held up her empty hand, she'd inhaled the cookie almost as soon as he'd handed it to her. "See what I mean?"
Death raised her eyebrows at the confetti comment but she remained silent as she munched on her cookie and sized up the Irish saint.
The look Patrick gave her was one of utmost sympathy. "I'm so sorry," he said, and he meant it. "I can't imagine. Is there anything I can do for you? I could distract you with Pictionary?"
Famine sighed. "It's fine," she said. "I'm sort of adjusting to it, at the very least, it's not always quite so prominent. It'll eventually break like a fever. But yeah, I think Pictionary would be good. Really, anything that'll take my mind off this for a while."
She dug through her pockets, switching her phone off and handing it to death. "So I don't keep refreshing the freaking news sites," she explained.
Death took Famine's phone and she slipped it into her bra. The very act made Patrick blush and Death raised her eyebrows at him. "Your saint is strange but I don't mind him," she finally said and then she asked, "What's Pictionary?"
Famine made a soft noise in the back of her throat, somewhere between a snort and a laugh. "Yeah, a bit, but aren't we all?" she asked. She shrugged then. "He gets me. And Pestilence has Michael, and War has George. He's my friend, apart from you three, my only friend."
She cleared her throat, suddenly self-conscious. "To answer your question, Pictionary is where you draw something, and the other players have to guess what it is. It's fun, I've played it before. I think you'll like it."
Patrick didn't say anything to Famine's admission that he was her friend, but he did gently place his hand on her shoulder for a second before moving to shoo them into the living room. "It's a very fun game, and when I used to play it with the kids and the shelter it quickly dissolved into chaos."
Famine's first instinct was to freeze up when anyone touched her, and she was halfway through doing just that before her brain kicked in and told her to relax. There was no threat here. She made herself unclench and even smile a bit before moving into the living room.
"Let me guess, the teenagers turned it into an innuendo game," she said with a snicker.
"With startling regularity," Patrick admitted before moving to get the game out. "They have a great talent for it." Patrick turned to look at Death before he placed the game on the table. "I can't draw so most of my pictures end up looking like blobs."
Death arched an eyebrow at him. "I see."