Gods, you know? I just...realized I've not actually planted anything before. [she's squinting at the planter on the rail.] I mean, I've watered plants before, like, obviously. But all the planting and upkeep was always...someone...
[she trails off when she looks over and sees no sign of Darin. she sits silent for a beat, feeling foolish for talking to no one, but then gets up, deciding to let it go and see if, perhaps, he was just digging up more surprises. honestly, at this rate, she's not sure how much more she can take of--
oh.]
...
[quietly, she bends down and picks up the cane, casting more careful, scouring looks around the room. keeping it in-hand, she checks under the bed, in the closet, back outside on the balcony, looking over, because gods know if there was a way for him to magically backflip down there, he'd have done it seven times by now.
she lingers at the rail, drumming her fingernails nervously along the cane as she stares down at the lawn, ears full of wind and chimes and traffic and nothing else.]
Darin?
[she leans over the second floor rail and calls out downstairs, straining her ears to pick up more than normal: it makes the electrical hums and buzzes louder, and a nearby bug or spider's skittering more apparent, but other than that...just her heartbeat starting to drum faster.
her pace downstairs matches it as she hurries, accidentally smacking the banister with the cane as she swings around and starts a sweep in the usual spots first.]
Darin, if you think this is funny, it's not, so you better stop if you're...!
[...still here.
she wavers in place for a beat as she's taken by a wave of dread that chills her to the bone. before it can swallow her whole, though, she turns on her heel and rushes back upstairs and does what she hates the most: snoop through other people's rooms. she at least has the decency to put things back the way she found them, but the whole ordeal becomes more aggressive and frantic as she goes, to the point where she's smacking closets closed and thrusting the cane up under the bed in hopes of doing proper harm to get a response.
all of this escalates up to the last thing, which should've been the first thing to do: grab her communicator. murmuring breathy elvish swears as she taps and scrolls to her frequent contacts--
not there.
so she huffs and backs out and thumbs through the full list, down to the D's--
not there.
after an icy beat, she exhales, scrolling back up to the A's.
not there.
standing in Allura's old room, Cecelia is suddenly smacked by a tidal wave of different feelings all at once, so hard that she can't actually react to any of it right away. fear and outrage are what most roil in her guts and set her mind abuzz: where did he go? why was that so sudden? why didn't she notice? why didn't he say anything? what is she supposed to do? to say? when Allura gets home, how is she supposed to even look at her?
for a moment, the high-pitched hum of the room around her gets too loud before she blots it out, her vision blurring as she wavers in place.
after a moment of time she can't discern, Cecelia gasps and finds herself sitting up on the floor, cane tossed in one direction, the communicator in another. as she collects herself and finds her breath again, realization grips her and squeezes her chest like a vice.
that was it. that--this is the catch. she always knew there was a catch -- no way does something so lovely and nice happen without something equally terrible or worse happening in its stead. that's...that just makes sense. gods, obviously. a room that nice was effectively a farewell note without even trying to be!
see? see what happens?
Cecelia covers her mouth, gulping against a wave of nausea as she simmers in this, the earlier thoughts of panic starting to double back around. what is she supposed to do? Darin said just enjoy the space and be herself.
and then he vanished. like Legosi. like Riku. like--
gods. gods, are they kidding her? is this how it's going to be? get a nice thing, and then be left with it? as if shiny toys and trinkets were going to be what sates her? like Felix's ring. like Vief's staff. like all the books and jewelry her father had delivered to her. all this stuff and...goodbye.]
Is that...how it's going to be?
[her skin prickles with fresh, hot outrage as she climbs to her feet, grabbing the cane, and marching down the hall to the new room. her new room. a new prize! surprise! goodbye! as fury boils over and her temperature rising, she storms back into the room, whirling around it as she takes it all in again.
the dangling cord to the light above lightly grazes her ear and sets her off: she reels around, shooting a glare upward, and then swings the cane to hit the light fixture. she's not a wildly strong girl, so while she put a lot of frustration into that, it only chipped and broke a chunk of it the size of her hand and fell to the floor. that much is enough: she picks it up, throwing it at the dresser, yelling:]
IS THAT HOW IT'S GOING TO BE?! GO TO HELL! I'm not staying here! It's BROKEN! I'm not staying here if you're going to just up and LEAVE the second you, you PAWN IT OFF and GO! I don't care! It's broken! Come back and FIX IT, you blue idiot!
[yelling like that aloud scares her into a squeak and silence. after a while, lost in mixed-up thoughts, she rushes out, yanking the door closed behind her. after grabbing her journal, shawl, and communicator, she hurries downstairs, gets her shoes on, and leaves.]
no subject
[she trails off when she looks over and sees no sign of Darin. she sits silent for a beat, feeling foolish for talking to no one, but then gets up, deciding to let it go and see if, perhaps, he was just digging up more surprises. honestly, at this rate, she's not sure how much more she can take of--
oh.]
...
[quietly, she bends down and picks up the cane, casting more careful, scouring looks around the room. keeping it in-hand, she checks under the bed, in the closet, back outside on the balcony, looking over, because gods know if there was a way for him to magically backflip down there, he'd have done it seven times by now.
she lingers at the rail, drumming her fingernails nervously along the cane as she stares down at the lawn, ears full of wind and chimes and traffic and nothing else.]
Darin?
[she leans over the second floor rail and calls out downstairs, straining her ears to pick up more than normal: it makes the electrical hums and buzzes louder, and a nearby bug or spider's skittering more apparent, but other than that...just her heartbeat starting to drum faster.
her pace downstairs matches it as she hurries, accidentally smacking the banister with the cane as she swings around and starts a sweep in the usual spots first.]
Darin, if you think this is funny, it's not, so you better stop if you're...!
[...still here.
she wavers in place for a beat as she's taken by a wave of dread that chills her to the bone. before it can swallow her whole, though, she turns on her heel and rushes back upstairs and does what she hates the most: snoop through other people's rooms. she at least has the decency to put things back the way she found them, but the whole ordeal becomes more aggressive and frantic as she goes, to the point where she's smacking closets closed and thrusting the cane up under the bed in hopes of doing proper harm to get a response.
all of this escalates up to the last thing, which should've been the first thing to do: grab her communicator. murmuring breathy elvish swears as she taps and scrolls to her frequent contacts--
not there.
so she huffs and backs out and thumbs through the full list, down to the D's--
not there.
after an icy beat, she exhales, scrolling back up to the A's.
not there.
standing in Allura's old room, Cecelia is suddenly smacked by a tidal wave of different feelings all at once, so hard that she can't actually react to any of it right away. fear and outrage are what most roil in her guts and set her mind abuzz: where did he go? why was that so sudden? why didn't she notice? why didn't he say anything? what is she supposed to do? to say? when Allura gets home, how is she supposed to even look at her?
for a moment, the high-pitched hum of the room around her gets too loud before she blots it out, her vision blurring as she wavers in place.
after a moment of time she can't discern, Cecelia gasps and finds herself sitting up on the floor, cane tossed in one direction, the communicator in another. as she collects herself and finds her breath again, realization grips her and squeezes her chest like a vice.
that was it. that--this is the catch. she always knew there was a catch -- no way does something so lovely and nice happen without something equally terrible or worse happening in its stead. that's...that just makes sense. gods, obviously. a room that nice was effectively a farewell note without even trying to be!
see? see what happens?
Cecelia covers her mouth, gulping against a wave of nausea as she simmers in this, the earlier thoughts of panic starting to double back around. what is she supposed to do? Darin said just enjoy the space and be herself.
and then he vanished. like Legosi. like Riku. like--
gods. gods, are they kidding her? is this how it's going to be? get a nice thing, and then be left with it? as if shiny toys and trinkets were going to be what sates her? like Felix's ring. like Vief's staff. like all the books and jewelry her father had delivered to her. all this stuff and...goodbye.]
Is that...how it's going to be?
[her skin prickles with fresh, hot outrage as she climbs to her feet, grabbing the cane, and marching down the hall to the new room. her new room. a new prize! surprise! goodbye! as fury boils over and her temperature rising, she storms back into the room, whirling around it as she takes it all in again.
the dangling cord to the light above lightly grazes her ear and sets her off: she reels around, shooting a glare upward, and then swings the cane to hit the light fixture. she's not a wildly strong girl, so while she put a lot of frustration into that, it only chipped and broke a chunk of it the size of her hand and fell to the floor. that much is enough: she picks it up, throwing it at the dresser, yelling:]
IS THAT HOW IT'S GOING TO BE?! GO TO HELL! I'm not staying here! It's BROKEN! I'm not staying here if you're going to just up and LEAVE the second you, you PAWN IT OFF and GO! I don't care! It's broken! Come back and FIX IT, you blue idiot!
[yelling like that aloud scares her into a squeak and silence. after a while, lost in mixed-up thoughts, she rushes out, yanking the door closed behind her. after grabbing her journal, shawl, and communicator, she hurries downstairs, gets her shoes on, and leaves.]