pansy parkinson is not a winner. (![]() ![]() @ 2012-11-03 23:00:00 |
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Entry tags: | ch: thg: pansy parkinson, ch: thg: theodore nott, p: annalisa, p: kit |
Who: Pansy & Theodorethg
What: Talking, angsting on Pansy's part, probably. Girl's not dealing with things real well.
When: Saturday, 3 November; Night
Where: Their beach house ... on the island, obvs.
Warnings: Mentions of death, but likely nothing too graphic
She had tried. Pansy had blisters on her feet and too much sun on her shoulders from the hours she'd spent traipsing across the island following her brother around trying to get him to stop and talk to her instead of heading to the bar. It had been good and cathartic for her when she'd been confronted by Theodore but all Fletcher would do was ignore her and try his damnedest to lose her in the wilderness. It was an awful feeling being treated like the ghost you were to someone.
Of course, it didn't help that she was already in a terrible mood—that bint on the journals had made Pansy come two seconds from threatening to creatively end her life with whatever means possible and the anger that had nearly pushed her to that point bothered Pansy. She didn't want other people acting like they knew better than she did what Fletcher needed. She was his big sister and she knew better than some random person from an entirely different world what needed to be done.
Not that she'd made any progress today. She'd try again tomorrow.
And with that resolve and the hollow hole in her heart where she grieved for Tiberius and the part of her brother she had lost, Pansy headed back toward the beach house in hopes of finding lotion or something to take away the itch from the bug bites she'd obtained in the wilder areas of the island.
Stepping inside the beach house, Pansy was quiet, almost too quiet. She kicked off her shoes and stonily made her way to the bedroom where she slowly and meticulously changed into her pajamas. It was only after she had changed and stood still for several long seconds that she suddenly grabbed a pillow and threw it as hard as she could across the room. A few odds and ends came next. Then a lamp as she let out a cry of frustration and hurt and anger and grief. She reached for another pillow then, still not satisfied with the energy she'd already exerted.