o5 . bone house mingle!

[necrolord]

Who: necrolord and CR!
What: Several teens move into the horrible necromancy mansion, and sometimes they bring their friends.
When: Early March.
Where: Bone House in Gaze.

Content Warnings: Skeletons, discussions of death and grief, violence where marked, vomit where marked. Note all the usual warnings of this character.

Comments

[lipochrome]

Gideon doesn't laugh. She does grin, though, and even though there's some humor in that expression, it's mostly something else. Pride, maybe? Gideon isn't especially sure what to call it and doesn't really care, either. Who needs to name their feelings? All she knows is that Paul is wearing something that's hers, and that's...pretty cool, Gideon supposes.

"Well, you don't look as cool as me, but pretty much no one does. But that's still much better. We'll get you a sick chain and maybe a jacket with bone spikes, and then you'll look like the second-coolest person on the Ninth in no time." Cooler than the nuns, even!

Gideon goes for the snacks as well, choosing some dried fruit and chocolate blend labeled Trench Mix. There's nothing like a good Trench mix. Gideon's mouth is perhaps still a little bit full when she responds next, because it's so much more fun to talk to your buds and eat than to do the two of those separately.

"Are you kidding? I've never seen you half-ass anything, ever. I'm sure it'll be great, and if it sucks, we can just say I'm wearing it ironically."

[terriblepurpose]

A realization slots into place for Paul in this moment, caught between the mundane and the tragic. He's in the midst of opening a packet of smoked mushroom jerky when he has it. He is thinking about this room, and listening to Gideon weaving a future for them with her words, and she is vital and warm and alive beside him, and he understands something else about why he came back to this place, to shelter under this roof.

The world is miserable. So is he. So is she, even if she's brave enough not to show it. Things aren't going to get much better any time soon. He can see futures unfolding before him like scrawled maps, and he doesn't like where most of them lead.

But here, with her, he feels better, more safe. He feels watched over, in the way of being seen. Gideon looks after him. He tries to look after her. Paul does know what this feeling is. He just never expected it to come back to him.

"I'd like that," he tells her, bumping his knee against hers, "But now I might have to make the shirt bad on purpose, to give myself a chance. You've played your hand too soon."

Then, softer, so she knows he doesn't mean that: "You'd still manage to make it look cool." Softer still, but this time so she knows he does mean this: "Thank you."