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Friendly Conversationalist
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 Posted: Mon Apr 16, 2012 8:43 am
  ++++++++⒈ .................................... Sixteen Candles++++++++⒉ .................................... Ships Passing in the Night++++++++⒊ .................................... I'm So Young++++++++⒋ .................................... The Great Pretender++++++++⒌ .................................... Devil's Day++++++++⒍ .................................... Get Your Head in the Game++++++++⒎ .................................... Have You Heard?++++++++⒏ .................................... Out Of Sight, Out Of Mind++++++++⒐ .................................... Most of All++++++++⒑ .................................... Step By Step++++++++⒒ .................................... A Beautiful Sight++++++++⒓ .................................... Everlasting Friend++++++++⒔ .................................... Night at the Museum
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Posted: Mon Apr 16, 2012 8:23 pm
Sixteen Candles "Aaaand done." The tiny brush moved with a flourish, and the ten-year-old girl met her eyes with a pleased smile. She capped the nail polish and set it to rest on the TV tray next to her before turning fully towards her elder sister and shifting her position to sit cross-legged on the couch. "It looks nice, Gemmy!" Gemma absently stared at the lacquer drying on her fingers, almost scared to even flex the knuckles lest she mess up her sister's careful paint job. Normally, she never wore nail polish at all because of her activity in sports, but also because she always felt it looked off. "You can have it if you want, I don't really wear the dark blue."
Thunder from the storm outside shook the house and at last, Gemma blinked and focused on her sister Liesel. The little girl was demanding attention for what she had just done, and her elder sister had done nothing but zone out. It seemed to be the norm lately, and by looking at the somewhat pouty look on her sister's face, a little hurtful towards her siblings.
"Oh, yes, it looks nice, thanks Lise." Gemma managed an awkward, self-conscious smile (the only smile she really knew how to give) and glanced around the Fossen family's overstuffed living room. Her youngest sister Rory was curled up on the recliner next to the couch with a blanket pulled around her tiny shoulders and a pillow pressed to her ears. She quivered fretfully every time lightning flashed outside or thunder cracked, and was trying desperately to focus on the television instead, although it was not doing much good. Her brother Toby, on the other hand, was stretched out on the rug in front of the television and popping potato chips into his mouth. "But uh, you can keep the polish. I don't, er, really wear it much." She examined her nails once again and rested them on her thighs, before hastily adding, "But thank you." The last bit seemed to satisfy Liesel well enough, and the girl once again repositioned herself on the couch, tiny skirt fluttering around her as she flopped back into the cushions.
"You should though! You look more like a girl with nail polish!" The girl opened a different bottle of polish to repaint her own fingers - an especially eye-catching shade of bubblegum pink. Gemma sighed and leaned back herself, and turned her head towards the window to watch large, fat drops of rain throw themselves rapid pace against the glass. Something like that was easy for her sister to say; for people like Liesel and their mother, being girly was easy. For Gemma, however, girly was quite a foreign concept to one whose world consisted of scraped knees, soccer, and the salt air of the ocean.
She idly wondered how late her parents would be - some friends of her mother's had come from out of town and the two couples were at dinner. Although no stranger to the babysitter role (even if she thought she was not very good at it), the storm made her feel uneasy. Regardless, she had promised her parents with a nod, saying "Don't worry, I can handle it." The sound of the rain and the low din of the television were making her drift again.
Thunder cracked, much more loudly than before, and Gemma straightened. Liesel seemed to notice it too and set her nailpolish aside. The lights dimmed for a moment then went out completely. Toby sat bolt upright as soon as the television flickered off with a loud groan, and Rory seemed to mimic the action as well, although deciding that a long, sharp cry was better than grumbling. Gemma was on her feet immediately, although the whine of the wind through the trees outside kept drawing her eye to the window.
"Okay, guys -- Rory, it's okay -- stay here, I'm going to go find the candles." Meanwhile her mind was racing through the emergency checklist that her parents had given her before they departed for a night on the town - the list that was tacked to the fridge in the kitchen, the darkest room in the house. Flashlights, candles, water's under the kitchen table, radio, cellphone.. keep the radio on, and if the storm worsens, seek higher ground. She pursed her lips nervously, fingers clutching the arm of the couch and feeling the rough tweedy material beneath them. She was a fisherman's daughter and had known the sea her whole life. The storm that raged outside was only growing harsher. During her short life, she had only needed to seek higher ground once, when she was only five years old. Rory had not been born yet, and her mother was pregnant with Liesel, leaving Gemma to clutch her toddler-age brother to her as they sat in the evacuation center with other Teufel Town families. Part of the reason she held him so tightly was because her mother and father had told them to "stick together, no matter what," but her own fear underlied the placid expression on her childish face. How could she show fear when there was a child who was trembling and sobbing in her arms? It gave her some reassurance to see Toby's breathing calm the more firmly she held him, even if all she wanted to do was cry and scream herself.
It was an incident that had happened only once, and even then her parents had been with her to see them through. Now, she had to be the family's protector. Her fingers curled into fists. Again, she felt the deep-buried need for reassurance, a pat on the head, someone to help her through, but she pushed the thought away. Gemma was the family's protector with her parents out of the house.
Rory's whimper rose into a long, wailing cry, and Liesel covered her ears with a high-pitched whine of annoyance fit to rival her sister. Toby shot the both of them a glare from his position on the floor, and Gemma sighed, shaking her head. She was the older sister, and she would keep her siblings safe.
"Stay here," she ordered, "I'll go find the --"
"I w-want Mama.. !!" Rory wailed as fat tears rolled down her round cheeks. Her oldest sister did not get much chance to answer as she opened her mouth and started crying.
"Rory, shh, it's -- um, it's okay, really --" Gemma reached over and attempted to mimic her mother's normal soothing touch, but instead succeeded in briefly patting the child's wet cheek. "I know it's dark, but let me get the candles, and it, er, it'll be fine." Rory's cries only increased in volume, and just by listening Gemma felt tired. Liesel wiggled uncomfortably in her own seat and sniffed. Tears were welling in her eyes as well. Gemma's heart plummeted at the sight of both sisters in such low spirits, and she averted her eyes. Some big sister she was. Her promise to her mother and father as they left for the night out rung in her ears. "Don't worry, I can handle it." Her mouth set in a firm line, and once again she shrugged her fears aside. If it comes to that, I will do what needs to be done.
"Okay, give me a minute, I'll be back," she promised the girls.
"I'll come with you!" Toby volunteered, and had already pushed himself up and clambored to his feet when Gemma shook her head. She held up a hand to stop him, albeit as gently as she could.
"Stay with the girls," she replied, and judging by the deflated look on Toby's face, she had ruined his only avenue of escape from his sobbing sister. Her upheld hand rested on his shoulder. "Please."
"Get sixteen candles!" Liesel exclaimed with an enthusiastic nod. She took a moment to wipe her eyes with the heel of her hand, careful to avoid her nails, which were still drying.
"Why sixteen?"
"Just 'cause," she added, somewhat shyly for such a rambunctious child. Her cheeks bloomed red, and she turned her gaze back to Rory, who seemed to finally be calming down. "Sixteen is a nice number, that's all." Her brother snorted.
"She's lying," Toby scoffed, "It's just 'cause she watched that movie with Mom earlier today."
"Shut up!" Liesel cried, and Rory's wail started again full-force. Gemma folded her arms and sighed, and turning from the noise, she ventured out towards the depths of the house with an outstretched hand grazing the wall as her guide. The minimal natural light from the living room windows faded as she entered the dining room and kitchen, and Gemma squinted her eyes against the impending darkness. Her heart was in her throat as the wind roared outside. Would she hear the sirens asking citizens to evacuate as she had all those years ago? She strained her ears against the pounding wind and rain and her siblings' loud complaints from the next room. If it came to that, then she would have to try. Could she keep everyone calm and together?
She did not know.
At last, her fingers touched the familiar key rack in the kitchen, and she was down on her knees. The water bottles were kept under the table, with the other emergency necessities brought out and within easy access. Her head knocked against one of the kitchen chairs, and she ducked a little lower to crawl beneath the table. Her hands rested on the plastic casing of the water bottles, and as they trailed a little higher, she found the pack of tealight candles, a book of matches, and the radio. The flashlight was tucked safely behind the radio and as she reached for it, a light jingling in the entryway snapped her head to attention.
The door blew open with a fierce gust of wind and an outcry from parties both within and without, and Gemma raised an arm against the sudden influx of light, wind, and rain. But the familiar forms standing in the doorway eased the rapid-fire beating of her heart. The large, broad-shouldered form of her father struggled to push the door shut, and her mother was already dropping her soaked shoes in the entryway, her cellphone held before her like a beacon as it shown on Gemma's face.
"Gemma? Is everyone alright?" Elke asked in her normal German-accented English, worry etched clearly on her face. Gemma had stumbled from under the table, using the chair to help herself up. She had only now just noticed how cold the house was without power, and her bare skin was covered in goosebumps. She rubbed her arms awkwardly.
"Yeah, er," she began, eyes drifting towards the stock of emergency supplies below the table as rapid footsteps approached from the other room, "The power is out so ---"
"Mommy!!" Rory rushed past her older sister and dove straight at their mother's waist, her eyes still red and still pouring tears. Liesel seemed to have been on her way to do the same but paused as she passed Gemma, her eyebrows drawing into a straight, annoyed line that her idea had been taken. Toby trotted out of the living room last and calmest of the three younger siblings, and instead looked to their father.
"You guys are back early," Toby commented. Their father joined the rest of the family from the entryway when he was free of his own sopping wet shoes, his coat draped over his arm. Elke had managed to pry Rory off for a moment to peel her own coat off once her husband offered to take it.
"The power went out at the restaurant," Dom explained, tucking the coats onto hangers in the entryway and hanging them out to dry. "We didn't expect the storm to get so nasty so we headed home to make sure everything was okay." At last, it seemed liked Liesel could not take being stand-offish for very long, and she approached her mother sullenly and wrapped her arms around her waist.
"I missed you," she murmured into her dress, and Elke placed a hand on her head, as well as Rory's. Gemma watched quietly with a soft stab of jealousy in her heart. A mother's touch was something an older sister would probably never have, but she had done her best. Still, it brought to mind the fear that she had felt just a few minutes prior and how at so many times in her life she had yearned to run to her mother and father for a comforting hug, but she could never seem able to do it. Perhaps it was more envy directed at her openly-emotional sisters than her mother, but it was equally tempered with shame. She was the older sister, and she had a job to do when her parents weren't home. That came before anything else, even her own feelings.
"What say we get some candles lit?" Dom suggested, already on one knee and reaching down beneath the table for the tealights. Liesel looked up from her mother's lap to answer, but Gemma cut her off.
"Let's light sixteen," she said suddenly, which drew the attention of the little girl. "Liesel learned it in times tables today so, er, sixteen is a nice number." Dom, ever patient with his oldest daughter's slow explanations, gave a slow, easy smile.
"Sixteen it is, then."
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Friendly Conversationalist
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Friendly Conversationalist
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Posted: Mon Apr 16, 2012 8:30 pm
Ships Passing in the Night
♞ Ships Passing in the Night Gemma really wished that people would talk to her more often. This very instance, however, was less about abating loneliness and moreso about knowing that baseball club practice was cancelled for the afternoon because of the field hockey team's practice. Like a fool, she had stood at the edge of the field and waited for the sight of a familiar face. None of which had shown up. It was only when one of her teachers had noticed her that the news was given. Walking into the hallway with a bit of a slump to her shoulders, Gemma sighed deeply.
Why had nobody bothered to tell her? She picked at the band aid on her elbow (a token from last week's practice) with a frown. She never thought she was that intimidating, but time and time again she was proven wrong, often in situations like these.
As she moved towards her locker from the teacher's room, a walk on the pier in mind, she heard a loud pop. Gemma turned her neck and spotted a purple-haired girl lingering near the doorway. She did not look familiar, but then again the school was big. There was no way she knew everyone. Taking a moment to futz with her combination and retrieve her bag, she shut the locker door and made her way towards the other girl and the exit she needed. For a moment, she hesitated, but she shook her head and decided to at least make an effort. She normally at least did that much.
"Hey, uh.. need some help? If you're like.. lost or something." Gemma shifted uncomfortably. She was terrible at this.
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Posted: Thu Apr 19, 2012 8:33 pm
I'm So Young Teufel Town High School's half-day bell had long since rung, but Gemma's tenth grade classroom was still abuzz with activity. The girl herself stood next to her desk and shouldered her bag as she gazed around the room. Plans scribbled out onto the digital whiteboards showcased cutesy designs - a rabbit here, a cake, a star, cats, puppies. Teufel Day was coming, and like many other schools in the area, Teufel Town High was going to be putting up their own booths for the students to sell crafts, put on skits, or make food. They were given the half days on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday in order to begin work on their projects - a move which all students (whether they were helping or not) were grateful for.
Teufel Day was a celebration for the whole city, a way to bring together people of all communities. However, Gemma felt her own awkwardness more keenly each year, and even moreso this year with her classmates' increased activity. Prior years had seen her only hauling things back and forth or being sent on errands - none of which she necessarily minded. She was not of a particularly crafty sort, or good at baking or cooking, and as years of social awkwardness could attest to, not very good with people either. Her eyes fell upon her red-sneakered feet as she headed to the classroom door. This year, the activity of choice for Teufel Day was making small woven keychains (it didn't help that her class had a heavy imbalance between the genders to sway the vote). Some of the guys had grumbled and protested, but as the paperwork was now turned in to the teachers, there was nothing else to do but proceed. Strips of plastic and beads were arranged neatly on the desks in the front row, and many girls had pulled their own chairs into small clusters to begin work on them. They chatted happily, trading colors and beads and consulting plans.
Again, Gemma felt the pang of uneasiness. With Teufel Day coming up, all afterschool sports clubs have been cancelled, which left her day wide open. Her heart fluttered with anxiety as she watched the girls working on the keychains. She wanted to belong; she wanted to help, but past experiences would not leave her mind. Even if she were to smile her normal awkward smile and pull up a desk next to them and just start working, the conversation would dwindle. Stares would move down the collection of desks in her direction for a moment before the conversation would start up again, more loudly than before. She would feel their heightened anxiety and attempt to shut her out and quietly ignore it, only to mull over it on a long walk down the pier later in the evening.
Normally, Gemma was okay with that kind of thing. Some of the work got done and she could at least say she had belonged, although say to whom she was not really sure. But this year.. this year felt different. It was hard to tell if it would be a difference for worse or better, but all she knew was that she did not want that anymore. As the one person who stood on the outside looking in, she needed to make a change so the door would finally open.
Confidence was the key. Persistence was the key. She gripped her shoulder bag tightly and approached the girls before she could think herself out of it.
"H-Hey." Her lips twitched into a wooden smile - that would make her more approachable, right? The light, giggling conversation ceased and half a dozen eyes turned towards her, and immediately Gemma felt her muscles tighten nervously. Press on. "I saw, er, you were working on the keychains? They're really.. um, they're really cute!" A nervous laugh bubbled from her lips. The stares held. Here goes nothing. "So, u-um, I was wondering.. do you need help?" It may have only been a second, or it could have been a minute of silence, Gemma could not tell because of her heightened nerves, so she plowed on. "Or not because you've got a lot of people here, but, like, I thought --"
"Sure, if you want," one of the girls in the front said with a shrug. Gemma's gaze dropped to her. She recognized her as the girl who sat in the top right corner of the class, Mindy, was it? She dressed in skirts and pastel shades quite often. "We've got a lot to do so if you could take some of this stuff and do it at home, it'd be a big help." She smiled brightly, and Gemma felt a blush creep into her cheeks.
She was invited. She was helping. They wanted her help.
"Of.. of course! Yeah. Heh. No problem!" Perhaps some of her enthusiasm had shown itself, but the girls all giggled appreciatively, and at last it seemed like the tension was melting. Gemma reached down and plucked the printed instructions from one of the piles, unlatching the top of her messenger bag to add in the supplies as well. "When do you need it?" Her fingers itched to work on these, to get them finished, to show them that she was eager to be a part of their class and not a mere accessory.
"Thursday," Mindy replied. The girls nodded. "We have to start on the banners soon, so the sooner it's done, the better. Just leave them with the teacher." Gemma nodded. It made sense, seeing as Teufel Day was looming closely. The bag latched, she straightened up.
"Okay." She readjusted the strap's position on her shoulders. "See you, er.. see you tomorrow?" Mindy nodded pleasantly.
"See you tomorrow." Gemma nodded once again and pivoted, leaving the classroom. It took all she had not to race down the halls. They wanted her help. She was actually needed. The long flights of stairs to the bottom floor did not seem as long as they normally did; she practically flew down them and out the door. There were a few scattered students leaving the premises, milling about, chatting, or waiting for rides. Her eyes swept over them happily as she marched home, ready to bar herself in her room and puzzle over these keychains. She was terrible at crafts, and the deadline was rather tight.. but she would push through it like always. It was a lot, but she would get it done. There was no way she would let her classmates down.
A vibrating in her pocket distracted her momentarily, and she reached in to pluck her phone out. The phone was a recent acquisition from her parents, who had been so nerve-wracked at being unable to contact the family during the storm the prior week that they had gotten their oldest child her own phone. Her brother Toby, on the other hand, was given the old family cell phone for use during this week in particular because of the Teufel Day extracurriculars. Flipping open the top, Gemma saw a text message, poorly spelled, from the family cell.Text from Toby > where ar you rite now?? Text from Toby > i got calld out. Gemma help please. Text from Toby > this guy dosnt like me. Can you walk hom with me? Reply from Gemma > On my way. Ill be waiting out front. Reply from Gemma > What can I do to help? I mean he can still come after you.
Once again, the reply was fast.Text from Toby > dnt worry, he knows yor reputation. Text from Toby > i kind of told people some things.
Even if she wished that somebody would talk to her, engage her like another human being, in the end it did not matter that much. As long as she was useful, that was what mattered. It was something.
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Friendly Conversationalist
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Friendly Conversationalist
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Posted: Mon Jun 25, 2012 5:09 pm
The Great Pretender The air smells of salt and impending rain. Sea winds sweep over the district and wash over the schools, where a girl sits among the parents, waiting, watching. Her gaze lingers on the street corner, where a small trickle of schoolchildren has already started making its way towards the streets and their parents. The bells send their message over the buildings, on the sea breeze, sending the children into their parents' embraces. The young ones are moving en masse and clasping hands, gossiping, hiding, breaking away to find loved ones awaiting near tram track or car. The moment plays as though it were a living memory, breathing and expanding new life into the old, and the girl smiles. At last, among the chaos of voices, car horns and school bells, the sights of many small bodies, she spots a familiar crop of dark blue hair. The child shuffles his feet and wears a surly expression, his own eyes sharp and watchful as her own, but for a different reason. Her arm raises in an elaborate wave and she calls out cheerfully. A few of the heads turn in their direction, and the boy ducks his head and hustles towards her. Like a magnet to steel, she is glued to his side and steers him away from the crowds, towards the sidewalk.
She is ever watchful. Her eyes focus in on the small nervous glances, her ears on the pauses and anxious laughter as he responds to her questions about the day. She knows who she is to protect - he is a child too old to seek her comfort with a hug or a strong arm about the shoulders, yet not old enough to fight off enemies larger than he despite the odds. This is fine, she muses, he will learn in time, just like her. Perhaps he will even take on this armor she has donned, the armor of unwitting protector to those who need a strong presence around.
Still, it is a lonely existence, to be needed and yet not needed. She is no stranger to pleas for help. Gifted with a strong presence marked as a touch boyish, she often plays the role of protector naturally. A person who is always needed but little acknowledged outside of that basic need. The milling children reminded her of the boys that she carouses with from time to time. They joke, they play sports, but after the designated time in the park or school yard is finished, they part ways and no more thought is given to the other. A mere convenience on both ends, nothing more.
At last, the moment both are waiting for arrives. The only signal she receives is the child at her side stiffening just slightly, and she follows his line of sight. She feels the gaze before she finds what she seeks in the sea of faces, where a larger boy is watching them. His gaze is level with the child at her side, who is doing his best to appear unfazed by it - succeeding overall, but the stiffness of his shoulders suggests the contrary. Once again she puts on her armor, and with a deft wave of the arm she pulls the larger boy's gaze from the child to herself. Her own eyes narrow, and two fingers raise up to point at her eyes, then at him, with the deepest frown she could muster. The boy at first does not look bothered, until she folds her arms and stands her ground next to her brother.
She is like the sea, protecting this small island of hers. She will not be moved. A short stand-off commences from across the street, until the boy relents, and sulkily mixes back into the crowd. A small victory, only to put off the battle for another day. The child next to her relaxes his posture, and an outcry of voices call to him from the playground across the street from the school.
The storm clouds of fear break and disperse over the child's face with a smile, but he pauses for just a moment to turn towards her with one final anxious look. She understands that look, that need in his eyes for protection, nodding. Satisfied, he moves away to join the brace of friends calling to him. She raises a hand in a jaunty wave, and lowers it slowly to brush her exposed arm as she realizes he has not seen. Bandages cover the accidental happenings of everyday life (or rather a life filled with abundant roughhousing in P.E.) and she absently picks at the fraying edges of a bandaid guarding her elbow as she follows, resting momentarily on the short stone fence protecting the play area. There, she will continue her watch until he returns to her side, exhausted and happy, and both can turn their thoughts and hearts towards home. The old house by the sea, that smells of salt, tea leaves, and talcum powder, where she retreats to her second-floor room and gazes out at the ocean as the fishing boats return home and the sun dips over the horizon. For now she waits as the boys play, laughing, pushing each other, running around the playground that sits like an island amidst the chaos of the school district.
The sea is lonely, the sea is watchful. She can continue to be like the sea for the time being, protecting those who need help, these small islands, from those who would seek to harm them. These islands are hers to keep safe, to look upon and say "I will protect you."
She can continue to be like the sea for the time being.
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Posted: Thu Aug 09, 2012 12:18 pm
 Devil's Day Gemma's long legs took the steps of the bus in stride, and as she exited into the early evening sunshine, she surveyed the crowd around her. The blue-haired girl felt a tingling of happiness inside, at being asked to help her school with the craft booths they were monitoring. Not that Gemma was particularly crafty (her area was moreso painting, and not like anybody else need know about that), but to have been approached by the girls in her class so amiably and extended the offer.. well, it felt very pleasant. Her class (the girls, mostly) were selling small woven keychains, all particularly cutesy things (cakes, rabbits, cats). In truth, Gemma wanted to buy one as well - Liesel might like one. Then again, she was likely to see Liesel, Rory, and her mother later, as all three had promised to stop by later. Her father would be scarce until much later in the evening, after the fireworks; he and some of his coworkers at the docks volunteered on Teufel Day to help with crowd control and safety. It would be nice to do something together, Gemma thought. She joined some of the other boys with an awkward smile, and allowed the smaller girls to deposit supplies into her arms and point her in the right direction.
Her arms laden with rolls of tablecloth and PVC pipes for the booth, the girl could not help but smile as she joined the others near the booths. It was nice to be useful! The girls monitoring the booth all looked very nicely dressed today, and Gemma recognized the one directing supplies as the one who had asked for her help earlier. Her turn in line came after the girl had a conversation with the boy before her punctuated by laughs, and another of the girl's helpers freed her arms of supplies. Gemma stood there for a moment, smiling hopefully.
"Uhm, do you.. do you need any more help?" The girl's eyes snapped up to her, after they had been surveying the line behind her, and she turned away.
"That's all, just go," she replied with a wave of the hand. "We've got help, don't worry about it." Gemma's heart sank.
Oh.
"O-oh, uhm, sorry then," she mumbled with an apologetic nod of the head. Why was she an idiot? Why was she always such an idiot? She pivoted on her heels and walked back along the line, and as she moved away, her gaze lingered towards the front of the line, where the girl engaged the boy who had been behind Gemma in lengthy conversation. Of course. As she wondered what to do with herself, she heard a distant voice calling her name among the Teufel Town School crowds.. or so she thought. As she shrugged it off, a set of small arms grabbed her own arms and swung to hide around her. The mop of dark blue hair was familiar, as was his out-of-cadence panting.
"Gemmy, hide me." The corners of her lips tugged into a slight smile as her younger brother ducked around her, peering around. For as mature and independent as he tried to make himself seem, Toby could not quite shake certain childish things - the nickname that he and his siblings gave his sister, for example.
"What's the matter?"
"Rob told Mary I had a crush on her and now she won't leave me alone. She's annoying, and she smells funny." The look of disgust on her younger brother's face brought a low laugh bubbling out of her mouth, and he glanced up with annoyance. "What? She does. I think she dumped all of her mom's perfume on herself. It smells like old lady."
"Whatever, don't worry, I'll tell you if she's coming." Gemma had no idea what this Mary girl looked like, but it gave Toby a measure of comfort in any case. At least she knew what his best friend Rob looked like, and if she knew him, he would be right there beside the girl feeding into his teasing plan. Boys will be boys, she supposed. At the mention of boys, she allowed her gaze to drift back towards the craft booth momentarily, her expression sinking, before she turned her attention to her brother. "Hey, let's go get something to eat, sound good?" Toby puzzled over this for a moment - likely figuring out what route Rob might be taking, before nodding.
"Funnel cake and you have a deal," he offered up solemly. Gemma laughed, smacking him on the shoulder.
"Deal," she replied, and the two marched off into the crowds, funnel cake acting as their siren call.
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Friendly Conversationalist
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Friendly Conversationalist
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Posted: Thu Aug 09, 2012 12:23 pm
Get Your Head In The Game
♞ Get Your Head in the Game Gemma barely registered the opening and closing of the front doors of the school as she made for home. She had, yet again, found out too late that the soccer club scrimmage had been cancelled again. Not that it mattered, since many of the players were on the actual school teams and that left her and a handful of other people in the dark. It was likely for the best anyway, since she had not felt up to doing much anyway. Since Teufel Day, she felt a certain kind of heaviness in her heart and thoughts, and spent most of her afterschool time lounging in her room. It was unlike her, and it bothered her, but she was at a loss for what to do.
She skirted the outside perimeter of the practice fields, glancing casually at the teams who were still playing or just ending their practices. A small outpour of guys from the gym told her that lacrosse practice had just ended. Maybe some physical activity would lighten her mood, but she had nobody to play with, and really she did not feel like doing it, even if she knew it was probably a good idea. Was this what depression felt like?
As her eyes focused quite determinedly on the concrete, she bumped shoulders with someone just exiting the field. Gemma shook her head and straightened up. "O-oh, er, sorry, I didn't mean to.. y'know." A lame ending but an ending nonetheless. She cast a glance at the guy she had bumped into, holding her gaze fairly evenly with him (as she was rather tall for her age), but averted it quickly in embarrassment. "Sorry."
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Posted: Thu Aug 09, 2012 12:24 pm
Have You Heard? Gemma could not remember the last time she felt this tired. It was a tiredness that permeated her whole body and left her feeling half of her former self - mentally and physically exhausted. The weekend following Teufel Day she had done little more than stay indoors. As much as she desired to go outside and breathe in fresh air, the storm that had kicked up over the ocean and blown to shore had stopped that idea in its tracks. Instead she merely cracked her window a fraction and lay on her bed, staring at the cheerfully yellow ceiling. She knew in the back of her mind that there was no reason to feel the way she was. The new week picked back up where the old week had derailed for the town festivities, sports clubs would be meeting again and she would once again be too distracted to feel. When she idled, she had a tendency to overthink.
When she overthought, it had a tendency to hurt.
The weekend's break from normal activities did nothing to ease her back into the upcoming week, and her gaze turned towards the window as the final lesson of the day wound to a close. The hum of the rain on the windows and roof almost lulled her into sleep, but the bell pulled her reluctantly back - so reluctantly that a dull throbbing settled itself in her temples. The classroom broke up into its normal clusters of friends, accompanied by the scraping of chairs and the sounds of chatter and laughter. Gemma bent down to grab her bag and the tiny umbrella next to it. She looped her bag over her shoulders, noting that it had felt particularly heavy today, and glanced towards the front briefly on her way out the door. Mindy and her group were nowhere to be seen, likely bolting out the door as soon as the bell had rung. Gemma's heart gave a soft, sad thump against her ribs. It was probably better that she did not see her and her friends. There had been no thank you for her help on the keychains, or in carrying stuff during the festival. The brush off that she had received when she dropped off the pipes made her chest ache. Gemma was not an especially naive person, and she had fostered no ideas that just by helping them with the festival that they might want to be her friends.
At least, that was what she continued to tell herself, but each day she found the words to ring more falsely than before.
She stopped in the bathroom on her way down the stairs, and once finished there she took some time to pull her hair into a ponytail. The wind had been rather nasty that morning and she did not want to have wet hair slapping her in the face on her way home. Her expression in the bathroom mirror was as placid as ever, but she did seem a bit paler than usual. The realization made her mad. I should be able to handle this better, you're being stupid. Get a hold of yourself. With a swift shake of the head she bolted from the restroom and raced quickly down the stairs. However she realized as she neared the front doors that her umbrella was conspicuously missing. Gemma groaned, pivoted, and climbed the stairs again, feeling more tired than ever.
The voices, punctuated by loud laughter, reached her ears as she neared the bathroom, and she placed a hand on the door to push it open. An equally loud, laughing voice joined the chorus of giggling and Gemma pulled her hand back as though she had felt an electric shock. Mindy and her friends were in the restroom, chatting at the sinks. Normally, it would not be a problem to go in and grab her umbrella, but Gemma's heart had dropped into her stomach. No, she wouldn't interrupt them --
"-- h, my, god, so he bought one of the keychains for Gina. Y'know, that cow in Mrs. Detton's class?" Squeals followed.
"Oh gross, no way. Vanessa'll be super bummed."
"Yeah yeah yeah, but get this." Mindy's voice was sharper than ever when it demanded center stage. "He asked for one of the cats, so I gave him one - one of Gemma's keychains." A roar of laughter followed, and Gemma pulled her hand fully away from the door and let it drop. She was not particularly crafty, this much was true, but she had worked really hard to make them look good. They had not looked.. exactly like the picture, but they were not that bad, were they?
"Did you see them, Sarah? It looked so bad, I woulda thrown them out if the teacher didn't make me bring them."
"Oh god, did you see her nail polish?" Gemma's downcast eyes found the dark blue polish job that Liesel had done on her. The edges were already nicely chipping.
"Yeah, who wears dark blue polish? What is she, five?" Another chorus of giggles. "Oh, speaking of, Macy's make-up on Teufel Day, oh my goood, who was she trying t --"
Gemma stepped away from the door and quietly turned away. She moved a little faster than her normal pace but she did not feel the increased speed at all. Even as she emerged into the rain without her umbrella, she barely registered it. So that's how it was. She knew it had been foolish to ever want to make friends with the girls in her class. Time and time again, she had told herself not to get her hopes up, yet every year the same cycle repeated itself. Every year, it got a little harder.
Her heart had deceived her. That feeling that this year was going to be different from the prior years had been an illusion, nothing more. And now she felt nothing but a stubborn ache in her chest to match the growing one in her head. She had been stupid. So very stupid. Why did she ever believe that she could change that easily when the years had only proven her wrong?
It had taken all the time in the world and yet no time at all to make it home. By then she was soaked through; the hoodie that was usually tied around her waist she had opted to wear, but that had provided little resistance against the rain. Her school bag was drenched as well, and the contents inside likely just as wet. However it did not matter to Gemma. She would merely deposit her bag near the heater to dry and go upstairs and go straight to bed. She felt she could sleep for all eternity, much like Sleeping Beauty. Eternal sleep was beginning to sound more and more appealing to her; then perhaps she would not have to wake up and deal with people, with living, with herself most of all.
The door creaked open and she stepped inside, dripping on the entryway. She dropped the bookbag next to the wall heater (but not too close) and shrugged out of the dripping hoodie. At the sound of the door closing, a jumble of mismatched footsteps raced down the hall towards her and she looked up to see two small faces watching her eagerly. The elder one's face held a mischievous smile while the younger kept glancing behind her and back at Gemma, yet unable to move thanks to the tight grip of her older sister's hand around her own.
"What's going on?" Gemma asked warily as the elder of the two rocked back and forth on her heels, lips ever grinning.
"Toby got in troou-bllle," Liesel replied in a sing-song voice. Rory finally wriggled her hand free and fled down the hall towards the kitchen. Gemma frowned and followed her youngest sister immediately, Liesel sulkily following behind after being ignored. When the eldest emerged into the kitchen, she found Rory climbing up into one of the empty chairs next to their mother, who was tending to Gemma's brother with a washcloth. His left eye was swollen shut and in varying shades of dark purple and red, with a large, bleeding cut on his lips to complete the image. Elke looked at Gemma as she entered, lowering the blood-stained washcloth as she surveyed her daughter with surprise.
"Gemma, you're soaked!" She stood up and approached her. Her soft hands fell on her daughter's shoulders. "Where is your umbrella?" Gemma shook her head softly and dodged the question, looking with concern at her brother, who was determined to stare a hole into the floorboards.
"What happened?" she asked him. Her address tore his gaze from the floor and she felt herself rear back a bit at the angry glare he gave her through his one good eye.
"I got beat up, that's what happened!" he barked. "What do you think happened?"
"Toby," Elke warned sternly. "Don't --" But Toby was on his feet, fists clenched.
"YOU SAID YOU'D HELP!" he shouted at Gemma, their mother and sisters ignored for the moment. "AND HE STILL BEAT ME UP!" Gemma held up her hands and attempted to reach for him.
"I don't know what to do. I mean.. I can't be there --" She attempted to put her hands on his shoulders but he pulled away.
"I want you to beat him up!" Toby yelled.
"Toby!" Elke gasped, narrowing her eyes in disapproval.
"I can't do that, Toby --" Gemma offered, but Toby was already storming off down the hall. His bedroom door opened and slammed shut, making all in the room wince. A moment of heavy silence hung between them and Gemma felt all eyes on her. It made her feel nauseous. Rory made an uncomfortable whine from her position on the chair.
"Gemma.." Elke smiled sympathetically and turned back towards her. "He will deal with it, it's okay."
"Yeah. Yeah, I know," Gemma croaked out in reply. "It's fine." No it's not. "He'll be okay." She nodded once, twice, and then without another word turned around and headed for the attic stairs. Nobody attempted to stop her, and she saw her mother wring her hands nervously before turning to pick up Rory. It's fine.. but not really. Gemma ascended the steps and pushed the attic door open, climbing into her room. The storm was still going outside, although lighter than before. She crossed the room and closed the window, shivering at the chill.
Toby's glare still burned in her mind. His glare had told her enough. It told her that he hates her. She had disappointed him. She had failed as a sister, as a protector.
Gemma changed into a fresh set of clothes - an old t-shirt and a loose pair of sweatpants - and climbed into bed. The warm, dry clothes did not take away the chill that had settled within, and she curled up on the mattress.
A failure, useless, alone.
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Friendly Conversationalist
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Friendly Conversationalist
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Posted: Thu Aug 09, 2012 12:25 pm
Out Of Sight, Out Of Mind Gemma's head was pounding when she woke. The room had darkened considerably and she squinted bleary eyes at the illuminated numbers of her alarm clock - just past ten in the evening. She sat up slowly, kicking her legs over the bed. The impromptu nap had done nothing to clear the headache she had been nursing all day, nor did it help her to feel refreshed. All of the stresses and sadnesses of the day clung to her thoughts, and as she remembered Toby's hurt, angry tone, she winced. The bed creaked under her as she stood up and crossed to the bay windows. The lights along the pier were shining brightly, and the storm seemed to have departed during her fitful sleep. The moon shown full and bright over the ocean, stars speckling the stretches of inky sky that did not hide behind the thinning clouds. She thought of the girls again, and of Toby, and year after year of false hopes, and the room, the whole house, was beginning to feel stifling.
Creeping down the stairs, she was careful to avoid the creaking floorboards on her way. A pair of dry sneakers awaited her by the entryway, mixed in with a number of other shoes belonging to other members of her family, and she pulled them on. She grabbed a clean hoodie hanging on the coatrack and opened the door slowly, stepping out into the night as she locked and closed the door behind her.
Night walks down by the pier were what Gemma did to clear her mind. The ocean was a source of comfort for her; something about motion and sound of the waves eased her when she was feeling muddled. The breeze was sharp and cold, and she zipped up her hoodie, quickening her pace along the docks. The familiar boards under her feet felt more like home than her own place of residence did now, with Toby's bad turn of luck.
The thought of her brother made her chest hurt.
Gemma reached the edge of the pier and gazed out onto the ocean. The waves lapped against the support beams of the pier, and she closed her eyes and focused on that. In and out, in and out. Yet it did not help her to feel any calmer. She looked up at the moon, letting her line of vision travel down to its reflection in the water. Standing here, above, away from everything, she felt disconnected but not comforted. The muddle of emotions in her heart was intense, almost painful, and she did not know which she should feel and which she should not. No matter what she did, they would not calm.
It was at moments like this that Gemma wished she were able to cry. Her parents told her laughingly that she was always a very sullen, serious child, but there were times when Gemma wished she could rush into their arms when she was upset and cry her eyes out as Liesel and Rory did. Whenever her emotions did seem to be too much, she would almost reach that point.. but then she would hit a wall, and the emotions would ebb, leaving her feeling rather foolish for letting them get the better of her.
She glanced down at the ocean waters below the pier again. Her hands unzipped the hoodie and hung it from one of the support beams, leaving her keys in the pockets. Shoes and socks she left next to it, and she stepped to the very edge of the pier. Most people would consider what she was about to do a bad idea, especially so late at night, but she had grown up around the ocean and did not fear it as much as some felt she should. With arms spread before her and hands brought to a point, Gemma took a breath and dove.
The ocean was not as bitingly cold as she had expected. Her hair curled around her head as she slowed her descent and rose, eyes stinging with salt. She broke the surface and felt the sharpness of the chilled night air, which brought goosebumps to her skin. Taking another breath she dove again. The exercise felt good, the absolute calm felt even better. There were no noises from the city to distract her here, no shadows of cats in the alleyways, no people, no lights. However one light shown from the surface, and looking up she saw the moon reflected on the water's surface, the sphere broken by the waves.
Down here, it doesn't matter. None of it matters.
Gemma surfaced again. She was further out from the pier from before, and she turned back towards the open ocean, diving once more. The salt hurt her eyes but she kept them open nonetheless, even though the going made it hard to see. Even that did not matter. Out here she was alone. Nothing could touch her. It was an impractical thought, and she knew it, but she latched onto it anyway.
She was weightless out here. Useless to her classmates, a disappointment to her brother, and alone, certainly. The gentle downward slope of the ocean floor led her out to sea, and she felt her lungs straining. Turning, she glanced back the other way, then back towards the open ocean.
I could just keep swimming. I could just not resurface.
What would it be like to drown? If it felt as effortless as letting herself be pushed by the tide, just by opening her mouth and breathing in..
I could just...
A place where she would not feel lonely, would not worry about disappointing her family or having no friends, or wanting someone, anyone, to see her..
I could just not come back.
Her lungs were screaming for air by now, and with a sudden jolt she pushed towards the surface. The air felt like daggers on her skin as she took in shaking, heaving gasps. The shore were much further by now, but she narrowed her eyes and pushed herself full-force back towards the pier. What was she thinking? Thoughts like that had never crossed her mind, and it was selfish, so selfish, so stupid to even think them. She reached for the ladder on the side of the pier's edge, one she and others often utilized during summer months, and scrambled up the slippery steps. Once she had climbed back onto the boards, her shaky knees gave way and she hit the pier hard. Now that she was free of the ocean she felt limp.
The fact that I even.. Gemma would not say the words again, but the very idea made her stomach clench.
For that moment, she had wanted to disappear, never to return. But then who would be there for her siblings? And her parents, what would they say? Finding the pillar where her hoodie, shoes, and socks still waited, she rested her damp, shaking back against it, bringing her knees to her chest and burying her head.
For that moment, out in the ocean, she had thought about dying. And she had almost done it. Gemma's chest ached, and her eyes burned as she took in a trembling breath and felt something warm trace down her cold cheeks. Another breath, and the sensation continued, and soon she could not breathe properly at all. She hugged her knees tighter.
I'm alone. It.. it hurts.
For the first time in a very, very long time, Gemma Fossen cried. But like most other things in her life, Gemma Fossen did so by herself.
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Posted: Thu Sep 13, 2012 2:21 pm
Most of All september 13, 2012. Most of All That had solved nothing.
The night wind felt cold on her skin, and the wet clothing clung to her body and trapped the chill to her. Gemma rubbed at her eyes with the heel of her hand, eyes stinging from the ocean's salt and the renewal of unwelcome tears. Her late-night swim, intended to clear her head, had only served to rattle her more deeply than she would even admit to herself. How could she think such dark, terrible things? How was it that that was the key to her emotions? It felt selfish, and it felt cruel. She could never have done that, not to her parents nor to her siblings. The contempt in Toby's swollen eyes was childish hatred, the sort that would heal over a few days' time, nothing more. The boy had a temper, and given time to think, he would come to her sheepishly and apologize, as he'd done in the past. Still, Gemma wanted him to know how she felt. That she could feel.
"It hurt," she croaked out, rubbing her eyes anew. "It still hurts."
You can make it stop, you know! Gemma's throat tightened and she looked around with eyes still embarrassingly red and wet. She had very clearly heard the voice. It was unfamiliar, and the fact that it had called in such a friendly manner sent new shivers racing up her spine. She stood up from the boards of the pier, her hands clenching nervously into fists and water puddling at her feet. In the dark, nothing she could make out resembled a person. This had to be a joke, but no laughter had followed, no other sounds to indicate people around, but all the same she could feel eyes watching her.
It was then that she spotted the white creature sitting just across from her, perched perfectly on the support pole. Gemma froze. The animal was clearly alive (the movement of its tail told her that much) but she could not place what it was.. or why it watched her so intensely.
"W-who is it?" She called into the night, teeth chattering from nerves and cold. To be caught in such an embarrassingly fragile emotional state only to be the subject of ridicule caused her stomach to turn.
Only me. I've been watching you, Gemma Fossen!
"This isn't funny." She refused to look at the strange white shape sitting innocently on the wooden pillar in case she might buy into whatever joke was being played on her. However, she could feel its gaze following her, and it unsettled her. "Hey!" she called once again into the darkness, her bravado failing and her voice drowning out to a hoarse whisper. With no other option, Gemma looked at the creature. Whether it was a rabbit of some kind, or a cat, she could not tell, and she felt very foolish indeed as she opened her mouth and answered the question that waited on her lips. "How.. how do you know my name?"
I've been watching you for a while, like I said. The animal did not blink, nor did its mouth move as it "spoke", but the tail swayed behind it. If something is hurting you, you can make it stop. I can grant your wish. Something about the words made her chest ache. A wish. Really, that was the only thing that it could be called, as it was near impossible it might just as well be unobtainable. Gemma shook her head softly, sending droplets of salt water flying from her sopping wet hair.
"Even so.." she paused, her eyes following the animal's tail as it kept time, swaying back and forth like her mother's metronome.
If you become a magical girl, I can grant any wish you want. The shadow it cast stretched long and distorted towards her, thanks to the angle of the full moon that night.
"Magical girl?" If Gemma had not been convinced at first go that this was a joke, then that phrase surely sealed it. What was a magical girl, anyway? Her first thought flew to witches of the Harry Potter sort, smart and talented, waving their wands to fight off evil. The very idea of it was silly, the idea of her doing something like that even sillier. "All for a wish?"
Yes. Any wish you want! The creature's head bobbed, and the tail kept time. Left, right, left, right. What would you become a magical girl for? She leaned against the post across from her questioner and crossed her gooseprickled arms. The wind was picking up again and she was feeling very cold. Perhaps that is what drove her on, or perhaps a desire to give into whatever person was teasing her now so they could get their amusement and she could find out where they are. Make them leave me alone, she thought, but it was an empty threat. What would she do even then?
"I dunno." She admitted, avoiding the penetrating stare. "I just.." One hand ran through her hair and clutched at the roots. "I wish I could make friends, you know, have someone I could depend on, like.. someone to lean on, that could lean on me in return. I want to be strong for them if they'll just.." She groaned, her free hand joining the other tangled in her hair. "God, I don't know, if they let me, and if they stay with me." The hands slipped down and rubbed her burning eyes. She thought of her brother and sisters, and how much it hurt that they were flourishing, while she remained stagnant. She remembered the girls in her class and their harmless gossip, and how much that had hurt as well. She remembered feeling so empty and unneeded, and the desire to scream and cry and be weak like her sisters were capable of being. But that was not in her nature; she was too stubborn, perhaps too proud, or too scared.
It did not alter the fact that she desperately wanted that solace.
Is that what you truly wish for? Gemma replied with a low, empty laugh. Perhaps the sea water had mucked up her senses instead of clearing it as she hoped. The absurdity of the situation struck her then, and she realized that whomever was playing this prank was probably getting a good laugh about now at the sight of stone-faced Gemma Fossen, dripping wet on the Teufel Town pier, airing her grievances to a white creature on one of the pier's pillars.
"More than anything, I guess." She laughed that same hollow, low laugh again, and slipped her hands from her eyes. She felt so tired right now from the gamut of emotions, so very tired. But as her hands pulled away and she readjusted her focus on the eerie animal with the swaying tale and alternately unswaying gaze, her own eyes widened as its ears stretched out and towards her. Her breath caught. It felt like her feelings or.. or something else was welling up inside her, and although she would not admit it, those feelings frightened her.
Then the contract is made! The night faded into a calming, pure blue. Strong gusts from all directions surrounded Gemma in such disarray that it was hard to focus, but after the initial chaos came peace. It was a lurching feeling, being transported out of nowhere back into the ocean's tides, but the strange animal in front of Gemma didn't see to mind, its tail flickering as the wish did its work.
A Soul Gem pierced through Gemma's chest and a stark azure light emanated in front of her eyes. There came a sharp, striking pain as soon as the strange artifact fell to the ground, and before Gemma knew, she was standing in front of her home, and Kyuubey had disappeared.
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Friendly Conversationalist
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Friendly Conversationalist
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Posted: Wed Jan 23, 2013 2:18 pm
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Posted: Wed Jan 23, 2013 2:20 pm
A Beautiful Sight "Kinda crowded, isn't it?" Gemma compulsively straightened her windbreaker and looked to the cheerful seven-year-old at her side. The presence of so many people was something that normally wasn't a problem, but there were a few pertinent reasons to keep her on alert.
"No big deal," Liesel replied happily, her tiny pink skates slung over her shoulders by the laces. "Come on, let's go, let's go, let's go!" She latched onto her older sister's hand and practically dragged her through the small crowd congregated at the skating rink lockers, and Gemma's heart jumped into her throat for a moment when her sister's tiny fingers brushed the ring on her right hand. The subject of the ring (and its true identity) in question have been the cause of a very important change in the teenage girl's life, and while she was waiting to see the true essence of this wish manifest itself, she did find she was feeling a little more at ease around others. No more ducking her head nervously or stuttering replies all the time - was this what it felt like to be comfortable among others? It was almost a blessing to realize that her only concerns were making sure both the ring on her hand and her sister stayed in close enough proximity.
The little girl plopped herself onto a bench and raised a purple stockinged leg into the air to pull off her boots, the skates tumbling from her shoulder to the floor below. Gemma had stationed herself at a locker to tuck her own boots away and barely had time to issue a warning to be careful when another girl weaved her way through, just narrowly avoiding the little girl's falling skates. Liesel winced as they went and the boot in her hand fell to the floor.
"Aaah, sorry, be careful," Gemma warned the girl passing with a wave of her hand. "Those aren't fun to trip over." There was a strange warmth that tugged at the bottom of her heart as the words flowed so easily. This newfound ease was wonderful.
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Friendly Conversationalist
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Friendly Conversationalist
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Posted: Wed Oct 02, 2013 9:31 am
Everlasting Friend They were late.
Gemma eyed the front of the school building before her gaze dipped to check her watch for what had to be the hundredth time since she had shown up fifteen minutes prior. Her eyes flicked over the silver ring on her finger and her heart gave a jolt. The ring served as her constant reminder that the night she had appeared on her doorstep, soaked to the bone with seawater and without her jacket, had been no illusion. She had yet to really grasp what that night meant overall (and still she puzzled over the term "magical girl"), but her heart was filled with a buzzing sense of anticipation.
A smile replaced the slightly irritated frown at her regular school day chore. Toby had gone to get Liesel from the primary quad, or so his poorly spelled text message had told her, and would be a few minutes. It was no matter to her; she had time to kill after all.
Idly she turned towards the playground and watched the few kids who were still milling around as they waited for departing buses or arriving parents. Little hands swung from monkey bars and friends called to one another in games of tag or in farewell as someone's parents did indeed make their appearance. Promises to play at one another's house later, or bring such and such game tomorrow, or about the latest homework assignment drifted to Gemma's ears, and her smile fell just a touch. The anticipation in her heart halted for just a moment, and again her mind drifted to the wish. Maybe someday soon she would have friends like that; it was rather a shame that she did not have many like that in her formative years, but it was what it was.
But she shook her head. Don't be dumb, she chided herself, things take time.
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Posted: Wed Oct 02, 2013 9:32 am
Night at the Museum Gemma really had no idea what she was doing.
The teen had been startled from homework when her Soul Gem had started (for lack of a better term) blinking. Her eyes squinted at the thing on her table, as she remembered hurriedly what that strange white creature had told her in brief after she had made the contract. It blinks when there's Witches. I fight those. Otherwise people will get hurt if Witches run loose. That was the gist of it, right? It was the same mantra she repeated to herself during the last couple of times her gem reacted as such, although she had yet to track down a Witch (a fact which simultaneously relieved her and made her feel immensely guilty).
The glowing was faint when she first noticed it and crept quietly down the stairs (ever since the Night She Almost Did the Thing, as she called it, her parents had been on high alert to nighttime patrolling). Luck had been on her side that night and she slipped out the back door and the garden gate without notice, clutching the Soul Gem in her hand. As she ran down the block, the light grew steadily stronger. The moon was round and full that night, and it illuminated the path her Soul Gem was leading her down. The UMA loomed close at hand, and the light had steadied into an unblinking brightness. Gemma took in the building as she slowed her steps.
"Okay," she said to herself. "Okay, okay, okay, okay." Touch the Gem, transform, find the Witch, kill it. She nodded again and backed slowly down the vacant street tucked to the UMA's side. Touch the Gem, transform, find the Witch, kill it. Hidden from the moon's light and any prying eyes, she closed her eyes as blue light flooded the dark street. When it receded, her normally comfortable clothing had been replaced with an outfit that looked much more knightly (and was, surprisingly, still comfortable, although she could contest the addition of heels). Gemma emerged from the side street and glanced towards the roof of the building.
"Okay." She summoned her lance, backtracked onto the street, and held it steady. She had only gone on these hunts about three times before, and implemented the move she was planning during the last attempt (with some success), but it never failed to send her heart fluttering. Gemma charged towards the steps at full clip, planted the head of the lance into the ground, and launched herself upward towards the roof like a pole vaulter.
For a second attempt, the vaulting technique turned out pretty nicely - she didn't scream as she sailed through the air this time.
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Friendly Conversationalist
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