Welcome to Gaia! ::

Larissa Duncan, who was carrying a large, empty pickle jar, had also noticed that the sky was many shades of oranges, pinks, and reds during the midst of a Destiny City sunset. It was only a few weeks away from the winter solstice, and the weather had made an abrupt turn in the direction of cold: Larissa had broken out her white peacoat and the houndstooth-patterned gloves her mother had sent in a care package, and was now bundled up against the wind's best howling efforts.

She was lucky to have gotten to the bank before it closed, or else just a very good planner -- she'd managed to get the proceeds from the Crystal Academy Cheer Squad's latest bake sale deposited safely in their account (at Crystal Academy, fundraisers tended to generate too much cash for a cashbox to contain). Now Larissa just had a large pickle jar to wash out and return to the school's supply rooms.

In the setting sun, her coat also seemed to be many shades of yellows, roses and peaches, as did the little mail truck that trundled resolutely back up to the Post Office to call it a night. Everything was bathed in a faint, sleepy canteloupe tint, and just for a moment, the troubled streets of Destiny City seemed to be warm and calm --

The girl that emerged from the storm drain of the sewer system (emerged from the storm drain, good lord) was not many shades of oranges, pinks, and reds. She was many shades of browns, greys, and terrible fish smell. Apparently she had dragged the entire atmosphere of the sewer out into the fading light of day with her, and -- dear God -- she was wearing a Crystal Academy uniform somewhere underneath the sludgy wet stockings and the layer of dank filth.

Larissa was surprised she didn't find herself in need of smelling salts -- but then decided the stench of this girl would have immediately woken her from any faint. This was clearly some kind of emergency. She tucked the pickle jar under one arm and rushed over, trying to ignore her rising nausea through sheer force of Mind over matter, Larissa! You can do this!, though it was not smooth sailing.

"Are you alright?" she asked, trying to look over the dark-haired girl for injuries (without touching her). "My God, you poor thing, what happened?"

"Haunted?" Larissa echoed, puzzling over it with a slight frown. "Why on earth would anyone want to haunt a storm drain?" She didn't wait for Emmeline to answer -- generally for most people, it was a rhetorical question. "Well, why don't we get you cleaned up, and you can explain it to me? You don't want gangrene."

Larissa plucked off her gloves in a careful succession, tugging at one finger at a time, from thumb to pinky, left hand, then right. She tucked in the thumbs, then folded them over in half and stowed each one in its coordinated pocket. "I'm Larissa Duncan, I go to Crystal too."

Larissa laughed politely. "Right into the nearest store, as soon as humanly possible," she answered. Larissa walked to the side and just slightly behind Emmy, herding her towards a Dippin' Doughnuts as decorously as possible.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Emmy," she went on, to help set the poor girl (who, she felt, was probably traumatized) at ease. "I was just on my way back to school from the bank. Do you know, I can't imagine climbing down into a storm drain like that, I'm not sure I have the nerve." She smiled, and confided, "I've been accused of being sort of a germophobe -- which, between you and me, there might be some merit to. But thanks to Purell, I'm able to live an almost completely normal life."

Try as she might, Larissa honestly could not imagine a situation in which she would like to explore a storm drain. She imagined a lost treasure, like in The Goonies: no. She imagined several turtles transformed by oozing green mutagen into eastern-style fighting superheroes: no. She imagined her housekey lost, or a giant, expensive engagement ring: still no. She could do the trick with the magnet tied to a string. She would not go spelunking in the muck and refuse of Destiny City. Standing next to it in the form of Emmeline was challenging enough, and Emmy was a human being she felt sympathy towards.

"Now, now," she said reassuringly, with a smile, "I wouldn't snub you, don't think that." It was suddenly a bit of a Breakfast Club scenario: Larissa Duncan might be able to put on lipstick using her cleavage; Larissa Duncan might kiss a Hillworth boy and then give him one of her diamond earrings; Larissa Duncan might walk down the halls the next day and pretend she didn't recognize Emmy because her hair was "done differently." There was no way of knowing what insincerity lurked in the heart of the blue-haired cheerleader who was currently sweeping her through the door of Dippin' Doughnuts.

She lied with the smoothness of someone who loved to have things Under Control and Running Like a Well-Oiled Machine. The girl at the register was just about to tell them that Emmy's kind weren't welcome here (unwashed, poly-unsanitary health code violations waiting to happen, that was) when Larissa cut her off instead, "Some bullies just pushed my friend here down a storm drain and wouldn't let her out for half an hour. I just want to get her cleaned up and home where it's warm and dry as soon as possible. Your restroom's back this way?" Larissa didn't stop walking the whole time, which was part of the trick: walk with purpose.

Larissa set down her pickle tub on the floor, next to a large metal trashcan. After this, she proceeded to rummage in her purse for a few seconds, then produced what looked like a white sponge inside plastic packaging: Mr. Tidy Magic Eraser, it read.

She unwrapped the Magic Eraser and took one of Emmy's wrists within the circle of her own fingers, then began scrubbing vigorously at her arm. "The micro-scrubbers will really clean the deeply set-in grime," she said like she had the commercial memorized (perhaps she did). "So, Emmy. An active person like you -- do you play any sports?"

(Crystal Academy's ultimate frisbee team was always short-handed.)

"Oh, that would be so sweet of you," she said without looking up. One of Emmeline's arms was now looking clean, if rather beet red from the enthusiastic scrubbing it had gotten. Larissa gave the muscles in her lower arm a quick little massage to even out the blood flow, since the water from the sink had initially been close to freezing.

The water was running warmer now, and Larissa squeezed some of the grime out of her Magic Eraser before starting on Emmeline's other arm. "I really think you should go out for the badminton team, that's a nice little group of girls. They had a few weird injuries on the team recently, so they had to promote some of the JVers up to varsity -- so I think there are some openings now on the JV squad. I'll let them know you're interested; if you ever want to play varsity you have to do a term of service on JV first unless you're really good, so let's take this opportunity to get your foot in the door." She looked up and smiled, as though everything was settled, just like that. Emmeline was likely beginning to get the feeling this was a habit of Larissa Duncan's.

Larissa laughed at Emmeline's innocent suggestion -- the girl really was kind of cute, in the way of sad drowned rats or baby birds with broken wings. Larissa had the urge to fix her: but then, Larissa was fixing her, in a way -- and right now that way was very important to her sense of smell as well as her sense of human dignity. "Don't be silly," she assuaged Emmeline's anxiety, "that sort of thing couldn't come back to bite me. It's not as though I'd be the one playing badminton, all I'm doing is getting you to tryouts. Besides, the Crystal Academy Cheer Squad's greatly respected -- no one would want to incur our peppy wrath." She smiled, the icing on the cake.

A last rinse, and Emmy's arms were done -- the blue-haired cheerleader passed her some paper towels to dry off with. Larissa rinsed out her magic eraser in the sink once more, watching the grime drift away in a swirl of disturbingly gray water. She suppressed a shudder and thought, Good riddance to bad rubbish. "Now let's see that grubby, pretty face of yours," she signalled her intent, brandishing the sponge at Emmeline's face with determination. As far as she could tell, the younger girl could stand to have a few layers of dirt and dead skin exfoliated away. It was for the best, of course. Emmeline would thank her later.