InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "That's your mishigoss"

Olive Snook (ittybitty) wrote in labyrinth_rpg,
@ 2009-03-28 17:22:00

Entry tags:

complete, day four, ned the piemaker, olive snook

Day 4
::Who:: Olive and Ned
::What:: Meeting in Olive's Dream
::When:: After the Ball
::Where:: In front of Olive's room and then...
::Rating:: PG, if that?
::Status:: Complete

At this very moment, Olive Snook was walking down the hall in the F Dorm after having been escorted there by some very strange, rather nasty looking little creatures. She continuously gave them strange looks and clutched her skirts, sweeping them out of the way just in case one of them got a little too close. Thankfully, they'd left her once they arrived in the dorm. Clutching the journal to her bosom and the key in her fist she stomped down the hall. She was a little bothered that this dream had gone on for so long. And she was pouting.

She was sure that she'd seen Ned with Chuck out on the balcony when Digby had run through the doors. But she hadn't had time to go check, either. Besides, who would want to break up their little romance party? Not her! She frowned, her lower lip jutting out in a pout. Pigby snorted and trotted to keep up with her. Finally she arrived at the door with the same number as that on her key. She double checked and then stuck the key in the lock. She tried to turn it, but it wouldn't move. She pulled it out and again checked the number. 126 on the door and 126 on the key. It was the right room, sure enough.

She set her jaw, breathing heavily out of her nose before jamming the key into the lock once more. She turned with all her might and then put the journal down and tried with both hands. Nothing. Frustrated she took a step back and kicked the door. Still nothing. In a bit of a rage she yelled at it. "Stupid door! Open or I'll turn you into firewood! See if I don't!" When it still did nothing, she beat her fists against it in a futile effort to get it to budge. She tried wiggling the key again and it still did nothing. Harumphing, she leaned her back against it and crossed her arms over her chest. Her foot caught the journal and slid out from under her, landing her on her tush.

Frustrated, confused, angry and close to tears she dropped her head onto her arms and tried to get a grip. And that's when she noticed that footsteps had come close to her and then stopped.

(Read comments) - (Post a new comment)

bakersman
2009-03-31 11:16 pm UTC (link)

Ned had accepted the offered hand warily. For one, it involved touch. And for two, well... He wasn't exactly a short man. He was, in fact, quite tall, if not exactly heavy. Olive, however, wasn't. Tall or heavy, that was. He mostly pulled himself to his feet, afraid of pulling her down, which would be not only painful but painfully awkward for the pair of them. Well. For him, at least.

He didn't speak as he followed her. What could he say? 'Where are we going?' seemed too logical for this dream, and starting some random conversation certainly wasn't going to get him anywhere. Not at the breakneck speed those little feet were moving at. How someone so small moved so fast, he'd never know. Digby ran ahead, as if he knew where she was going, but Pigby trotted along at their sides. The pig earned a another wary look from Ned. Pigby? Really? Who, exactly, had come up with that as a name?

But that was another of those things he wouldn't dare ask for fear of the conversation that would follow. A part of him wanted to know what happened in his future, this dreamed up future that Olive apparently came from and he didn't. The rest of him definitely didn't. It was too similar to magic for his tastes.

A few moments later, though, and he found himself not caring about the pig or anything else. His eyes widened, surprised at the size of the kitchen in front of them. Then again, it'd have to be big to feed all those people he'd seen at the ball. "But I can't just go wandering into someone else's kitchen... And using their ingredients and things, we don't even know whose it is!" And yet, he was rolling up his sleeves instinctively, exploring the pots and pans and bowls and utensils. It was second nature for him to grab a mixing bowl and the flour and the sugars, both white and brown. No, he didn't mean to. But baking was Ned's only true love whose name wasn't Chuck, and he fell into it as easily as he had the black hole that had dropped him here.

"This is probably a really bad idea," he protested, but he was examining the pantries for additional ingredients.

(Reply to this)

(Read comments) -