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 Posted: Thu Mar 05, 2009 12:13 pm
Solo Eight [If Time Stood Still: Sydni's Drawings Are Still Better Than Valeriu's]
It was Valeriu and Sydni time, he decided.
No gods, no godlings, no babysitters, no fighting. No confusion, no anger, no thoughts about anything besides their own little world, their future. Respectfully, he'd even asked Tezcatlipoca to leave them alone for a while - to vacate that space in his head for a few hours. He was surprised when the god left without a sound.
Sydni had grown, he realized with a start. Not in the same way he had, but in the way that humans did.
Today, they were playing in front of their home. There was no garden to roll around in (though he knew Sydni would've adored the florists' shop, already missing the wild and free feel of the god's jungle), but there was plenty of sidewalk for the adventure-seeking child to explore.
She was almost two, he mused. He remembered her first steps, watching her toddle around more and more until she could walk at his side with ease (granted, he had to slow his pace way, way down). He still enjoyed carrying her, but she was heavier in his arms now; soon enough he'd be needing to get a bigger backpack for her to nestle into. He wasn't about to be seen with a stroller, after all - plus, those things didn't come cheap.
He watched curiously as, chalk in hand, his little sister scribbled bright and colorful creatures on the sidewalk - shapes like him, or the birds, or the ornate and stocky pyramids. Excitedly she would jump up, run in that cute and enthusiastic way of hers to a new spot, and from that spot would begin the creation of new things; flowers, spirals, abstract objects that only made sense to her. Then she'd look up at him with an expectant smile for approval, and he'd smile right back, heart warming every time, joining her in scrawling on the sidewalk when she insistently tugged on his fingers. Eventually they had covered a good amount of the sidewalk in childish scribbles, heedless of the passers-by forced to step around them.
Soon she'd be writing the letters of the alphabet, and he'd be seeing her on her way to preschool, then kindergarten, then first grade. She would get taller and taller, he realized. Soon her unstable run would turn more graceful, more balanced, and then she'd be asking him for things. For advice, for help, to buy her this, to let her do that. She'd ask him why they didn't have parents, why he looks the way he does, why he is so much older than he should be, why he'd come home with bruises and cuts and burns and blood that didn't come from the construction site.
For now, though, she didn't speak. He might've thought it odd - she should've been babbling nonsensically long ago. But he was a quiet child himself, and he understood. She'd speak when she was ready, whether it be tomorrow or five years from now. He was in no hurry to push her, to make her grow up. He didn't have the answers to those questions just yet.
Crouching down next to her as she drew a stick figure version of the baker angry at the inventor, he smiled and handed her another color, rewarded with a blindingly bright smile in return that could melt the sun.
No, he wasn't in any hurry at all.
Points: 5.54
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Posted: Fri Mar 06, 2009 10:47 pm
[Making Enemies: Valeriu vs. Keahi]
That was...very easy. I guess. No damage taken at all. He went down in two hits. Didn't even get the chance to land a punch back.
I feel a bit bad about that. But I can't go around making friends anymore. Ciro's the only ally I need - everyone else has to be eliminated. And, sooner or later, Ciro as well.
But...I couldn't do it. I couldn't kill him. He was unconscious - wouldn't have even known he was killed. No chance to fight back, to fight for his life to the bitter end.
I couldn't do it. So I left him in the alleyway. I wonder if he survived?
Hah. Ciro would probably laugh at me for being so weak.
Points: 13.93
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Posted: Sat Mar 07, 2009 12:03 pm
Solo Nine [Famous Last Words: Post-Keahi Agitations]
It took a lot of layers of color to paint a wall.
He'd been here for the past three nights, restless and unable to sleep.
His mind still toiled, turbulent and troubled, but recent events added a new layer to the complexities of his life. In an effort to work off the excess stress, he'd come here, driven to cleaning and fixing up Ciro's home and headquarters as quickly and efficiently as possible.
The walls were nearly finished in some of the main rooms. On the upper floors he didn't bother just yet - the facade was meant to drive people away from the seemingly uninhabited building. No use inviting curiosity by sprucing it up. But down here he was busy. While waiting for the paint to dry in between layers, he was busy building, fixing, constructing. Inch by inch, section by section, he replaced and updated the piping for the water, repaired the electrical wiring, re-walled the crumbling walls and ripped up the floor to get rid of the rotten boards beneath.
It was starting to look half decent. He'd even managed to put the powers of his mirror to good use; poisonous gas that couldn't kill a man still had a disastrous effect on insects, and by using regular smoke to herd them out of the walls, he'd wiped out half the pest population in one go with an easy clean-up.
Unfortunately, in the same fell swoop, he'd also accidentally poisoned himself. That was the day he discovered he wasn't immune to his own smoke, and spent the rest of the hour sickly hanging out of one of the windows while the building aired out.
Smart power, that.
Still, here he was, the walking can of Raid, currently hammering a nail into some stolen piece of wood (like all the rest of his materials had been). Troubled, displeased, and restless.
The fight with that one boy had been pathetic. It put him off his appetite. That thing inside of him that hungered for blood and battle and killing had been all but disgusted at the confrontation.
It wasn't like it had been with Quinn. There was no rush, no thrill, no dark fury and sense of satisfaction when he'd drawn blood. No challenge. Just cold, methodical fighting and a quick knock out. It had chilled his fire - that was why he couldn't finish the kill. He'd lost interest. Had no heart for it anymore. It wasn't just the fact that the boy had been defenseless, out cold, but that he'd decided he wasn't worthy as a kill.
He hammered in another nail. Maybe it was just the difference between the newly chosen and Prophets.
Maybe.
He sighed, roughly, leaning his head forward to bump against the piece of wood that was quickly shaping into a desk. He wanted to fight Quinn again. Hungered for it, even. He'd quickly grown addicted to that dark rush. Another sigh, and another thunk of the head, and he determined it was time to switch back to painting, pushing himself up off the floor to stand and taking brush in hand.
He didn't know what he'd do if he saw Quinn again. He didn't know if he could even kill the other boy if it meant losing that heady feeling he got when they fought. If it meant he'd spend the rest of this Game feeling like he had when he'd fought that godling at the Harbor - purposeless, meaningless, and cold.
He wondered if his god had felt the same when he'd defeated his own rival, had finally driven Quetzalcoatl to that terrible act. His stop-in at the library had paid off, after all, even if what he'd read had been confusing and vague at best.
Tezcatlipoca had no answer for his musings. The god was purposefully silent on that event, no matter how much Valeriu had wondered and queried.
The silence told him all he needed to know.
Points: 6.58
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Posted: Mon Mar 09, 2009 8:13 pm
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Posted: Sat Mar 14, 2009 7:34 pm
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Posted: Mon Mar 16, 2009 1:08 pm
[The Seed of Doubt: Meeting Fish and Keeya]
Dinner did not go so well. I don't know what is wrong with that Fish guy, but I am not like that. Especially not for Ciro. And whatever is going on with Quinn is far, far more complicated than anything like teenage hormones and preferences.
As for Ciro...maybe I have been too forward. I'm probably just being an idiot. The only family I have is Sydni.
It would've been nice, though, to pretend for just a little while.
Points: 27.89
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Posted: Mon Mar 16, 2009 1:10 pm
[Invasion of the Body Snatchers: Quinn is a Jerk]
I hate him. I hate the gods. I hate magic. I hate destiny. I hate fate.
Hate, hate, hate. Why do these things seem to always happen to me?
Not only am I unable to show my face around my neighborhood without shame, he's also turned my body into a whore. Going around and kissing people is fine and dandy when it's his own lips, not mine. Throwing something that special away is just...!
Quinn can go throw himself on a burning pyre for all I care. It's like he's got two personalities. One is the nice one I like, and the other is this insane fool out to ruin my life.
I really think we got the wrong gods for this situation.
Points: 47.01
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Posted: Mon Mar 16, 2009 1:10 pm
Solo Ten [Dark Shines: Ciro's Death]
"Valeriu, we need to talk."
It was the first time in a long while that his god had addressed him by name.
The sink was leaking again. It seemed to be the one thing in his home that he could never repair for long. It had always been that way - his dad, and his father before him, had always dealt with that sink.
It was like clockwork by now, laying down the towels and gathering up the repair materials. A simple patch-job to last a few months before it mysteriously started leaking once more.
"I met with Shamash earlier."
For once, Tezcatlipoca spoke seriously. His voice was cold, but blessedly empty of the normal undertones of disdain and amusement.
His hand paused over the wrench, before carefully picking it up. The normal materials under the sink were neatly filed to the side - boxes of dish powder, metal scrubs, cleaning solutions, gloves and garbage bags. All organized systematically; by height, by type, down in a line.
A few items were missing, having found a new home elsewhere in Downers. He left the spaces for where they would be nonetheless.
"Last night..."
He made sure to turn off the water, upper torso nestled under the pipes, fingers nimbly searching for the leak where the water would still be dripping. He didn't need a flashlight, he had his eyes.
"Ciro fought against that Fish kid."
His fingers stuttered in their searching, paused and shook, before he pressed onwards. The leak was there somewhere, he knew. A little bit of recaulking and it could be fixed - unless it was a bigger crack, in which case he might need to replace the entire piece of piping. He just...
"Ciro..."
Had...
"He lost."
To find...
"He's dead."
And fix it.
"Damn ee't," he breathed out, shoulders slumping back and hands dropping down to the floor as he stared up at the pipes. He could feel the water dripping onto his face, sliding down his cheeks.
There wasn't a leak in the first place.
"Damn ee't!" he yelled, fists slamming down on the floor uselessly as he roughly shoved himself out of the cabinet. He couldn't stop his hands from shaking, curling and uncurling as his throat tightened. He dug his fingers into his hair, gripping the short, spiky strands as his head dropped forward.
A growled whine escaped him - something more animalistic than human, pained and torn. His long body curled up, knees pressed to chest, chest pressed back into the corner of the room as he forsook his materials to hide there. He pulled harder at his hair, anything to distract himself from the shuddering and tight pain in his chest. It felt like his heart had stopped, constricting and curling in upon itself like he was trying to do. To simply curl away so much that it disappeared.
"You lazy jerk." The side of his fist slammed itself into the wall next to him. "You v'ere supposed to teach me! And v'hat do you do? You cop out! Like alv'ays!"
And left him alone again. He didn't think it would hurt this bad. How quickly had he started looking up to Ciro? How quickly had the man become like family - a misbegotten uncle or older brother, rather than just a role model in his younger eyes?
They had plans. They were going to shake things up, take the City by storm. The Blacksuits were supposed to shake in their boots whenever their names were spoken. He'd built Ciro a home, their headquarters.
It wasn't supposed to end this way.
He didn't realize he'd spoken aloud until he heard his voice break.
"Varu?"
He jerked his head up, startled, staring at his baby sister as she stood in the kitchen doorway. She looked sleepy - he'd just put her down for a nap, and the just-shy-of-two-year-old was rubbing at her eyes, blue irises wide with concern.
"Sydni?" He nearly winced. His voice was rough, creaking and cracking on every syllable, and it was hard to speak around how tight his throat had gotten. But it was the first time she had spoken, and that revelation helped soothe his distraction for the moment. "V'hat are you doing out of bed?"
She shuffled forward immediately at his response, and he soon found her small fingers clinging to the sides of his face, intent and purposeful.
"Varu." She hesitantly rubbed at his face, and belatedly he realized the tear tracks that were there. He smiled back at her, gently taking her hands.
"Ee't ee's okay, Sydni. Let us get you back to bed, da?"
Stubbornly, she shook her head, pulling her hands away from his. He sighed, she wasn't usually picky about going to bed.
"Fix."
"V'hat?" He was stalled, surprised - her hands were pressed against the mirror on his chest, above his heart.
"Varu fix," she repeated, and it made his heart hurt all over again at the concern in her eyes. Children knew too much. Just as gently, he hugged her close, afraid she would break in his arms.
"I can't, Syd," he finally answered, "I can't."
Points: 8.67
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Posted: Thu Apr 02, 2009 8:35 pm
[Down With the Sick: Quinn Plays Nurse]
Sick, tired, and emotionally dead. Great way to start the day. It only got better when Quinn showed up.
I think I've made a big mistake. None of this feels right. But I'm an adult now. I've got a way to find out more about my parents, and I've got something to focus on beyond this pain. Damn it, Ciro.
I still wonder if he ever struggled with this. Maybe that's why he drank so much - to forget what he really was.
I won't ever know.
Points: 53.37
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Posted: Sun Apr 05, 2009 7:20 pm
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Posted: Sun Apr 05, 2009 8:49 pm
Solo Eleven [Ledge-Side Tango: Tezcatlipoca's Warning]
Sneaking up the fire escape was harder than it looked - especially with dead weight pulled over your back. Breaking and entering through the window was slightly easier - manipulating shadows came in handy quite often when lock-picking tools were not to be had. Now, he had to wait.
Why?
He'd made a promise.
Quinn really was more trouble than he was worth. Passing out on people and demanding they stay. He couldn't leave until the other godling woke up, at least.
So here he was, confined to Quinn's mess of a room, camping out near the window in case he had to quickly hide from his mother. He frowned. This was not how he wanted to spend his free afternoon.
Sighing, he shifted, pushing his legs out in a stretch before bringing them back in to his chest, elbows resting on his knees as he contemplated the blonde idiot sleeping so damn happily on the bed.
Crazy, like a PMS-ing woman. Messy, and finicky - flighty and annoying. Thin and weak-looking, prone to narcolepsy. A steamroller, flattening Vale each and every single time.
But prone to the strangest moments of sincerity and gentleness. He could still remember the feel of fingers scratching at his ears, the look on the other godling's face. Groaning, he buried his face in his arms, ears flattening.
"V'hat have I gotten myself ee'nto?"
He'd thought he was being an adult. But kissing somebody didn't make you an adult, didn't make you magically wise and mature. If anything, it left him feeling even more like a kid.
When Tezcatlipoca returned, it didn't involve fanfare or the normal amount of noise. Vale almost didn't notice the feeling of his presence back in his mind, too entranced in staring in horror at the mounds of clothes around him. Clothes and other things.
Was that a pizza?
Did something move over there?
You've been busy.
Valeriu nearly jumped out of his own skin at the voice, abrupt and short. His ears flattened instinctively - the god did not sound happy.
"Ah," he answered quietly. There wasn't much to say to that - the god knew him, knew his every thought and want and mistake. The minute he'd returned, the god had known.
It's a mistake. Tezcatlipoca's voice was too serious, too flat and frank for the normally manipulative man.
"I know." He frowned, ducking his head down further. "Of course I know." How could he not? This was probably doomed from the start. Whatever it was.
There was silence, as palpable as if the god himself stood before him, staring down in disdain and mild mockery. It was obvious he didn't approve - obvious that he knew, in the ways that he did, that it would only end in tragedy for one, the other, or both.
Humans are so foolish, the god drawled, after a moment. Always living in the moment. Always swayed by emotions.
"Gods do, too," he grumbled more quietly. "You are not so different." He didn't dare bring up the god's own nature, or his history with Quetzalcoatl. But he knew the god knew what he didn't say, by the tightening in his mind.
Know your place. The Aztec's voice was glacial, biting into him like a cold and harsh wind. He winced, ducking his head further. A moment later, and the pressure lessened, the god 'hmm'ing for reasons of his own.
I didn't choose you for wisdom or maturity, boy. I chose you for your courage. In that, you haven't failed me. There was a smile in Tezcatlipoca's voice, black and sharp.
Keep that in mind.
He did, even after the god left for the solace of his own domain.
He figured his life could only get worse.
But...maybe it would be worth it.
He glanced at the sleeping boy. Still asleep. Quinn snored on.
He snorted.
Maybe not.
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Posted: Sun Apr 05, 2009 11:12 pm
Solo Twelve [How Doth the Little Crocodile: Vale's Challenge]
Was it still worth it?
He'd known his actions would have repercussions. His god wouldn't let him off that easy.
He just didn't know it would involve crocodiles.
Sure enough, the moment he returned home, he was abducted back into this dark and green realm. He'd nearly forgotten what it was like. The jungle, the temples, the smell of the air, the humming of the insects; a world long destroyed. But it was something that synced up with his heart perfectly.
He walked his path, unchanged by the passage of time. Nothing was different; the landmarks, the foliage, even the scuff marks from his past prints were left untouched in his absence. It was comfortable, fitting back into this glove; like strolling through his own backyard as the leaves brushed against his legs and branches tugged playfully at his clothes. A step here, and there a brightly colored frog leaped off its leaf for safety with a quiet rustle. His ears heard every sound and knew them all by heart.
Tezcatlipoca hadn't shown up yet, which wasn't strange in itself. Yet the god hadn't said a word, not even when he yanked Vale here, and there was absolutely no sign of the man. That in itself put Vale on edge. The man was planning something, so he had better step carefully -
Air. One minute his foot was on solid ground, the next he had walked straight off into air, breaking through the greenery too late.
He fell, slid, and tumbled down the side of a bank, slipping and crashing until he landed in a sticky field of mud. It sucked at his limbs as he hurried to stand up, overbalancing and falling backwards again into the mess with a squelch.
He scowled.
Who put a swamp in his jungle?
He had a good idea who, actually. Standing up more carefully, he took stock of the trap he fell into. In front of him was a small lagoon. It looked shallow, but then again, he couldn't see anything through the muddy green water. On all sides was the same muddy river bank, no tree roots in sight (despite the trees right there!). The only way back to the jungle was across the water some hundred feet or so, where a relatively innocent path wound up from the waters and led straight into the trees.
It was a pretty straight-forward set-up, as most of the god's challenges seemingly appeared. He couldn't climb his way out.
The god wanted him to swim.
Through murky, suspicious waters.
Did he think Valeriu was stupid?
"Yes, yes he does," he muttered to himself. That was why he was here in the first place. To have Valeriu prove once again that he was worth more than his idiocy belied.
Frowning, he jerked off his sweatshirt, shaking the mud out of his hair. The sweatshirt was heavy, and would slow him down in the waters. Plus, for all he knew, there were man-eating fish in there. He tossed the garment into the waters before him, watching intently and crossing his arms. Not a nibble, not a bite. It floated for a little while, and then sank into the muddy depths. Nothing stirred on the surface.
There was nothing to it, he supposed. He had no powers here, and no more materials on him. Not even his knives, left thoughtlessly behind in a drawer at home. The only thing he could do was move forward.
Biting his lip nervously, he stepped into the water, off of the muddy bank, and immediately sank. He yelped as the water rushed up to his chest.
It was cold. Cold, and miserable, and muddy, and he could feel the floor squishing under his shoes. It was at that awkward depth: where he could walk on his toes, slowly, or swim.
One would make a bigger splash, which he knew was not a good way to keep predators away. Gingerly, he began to wade forward. It was slow going - his limbs trembled from more than just the cold of the water. He didn't like not knowing what might be in here with him. But he'd handled jaguars. What else could there be? A boa constrictor?
Pssht. He could handle a snake. He did so on a daily basis already.
Halfway towards his destination, there was a sound. He froze in his movements, ears pricking attentively. It was the smallest of splashes, but he'd heard it. He looked to his left.
Nothing.
His heart felt like it would beat out of his chest. For a moment, he was frozen in fear, ears straining harder. Another ripple, behind him. He jerked his head to look.
And wished he hadn't.
It was big. Really big. He could only see part of it above the water, but he got the gist of its true immensity. Big, and black, with cold eyes and a colder grin - all teeth and smiles, long and thin snout, scales and ridges.
A gigantic crocodile. A monster crocodile. He didn't believe one could grow so big, but there it was.
His stomach dropped. He remembered a myth involving Tezcatlipoca, about how the god had lost his foot to a giant crocodile.
Realization must've showed on his face, for the beast's impossibly large jaws gaped open in a wider grin, and it slowly sunk back under the waters.
He stared in horror for one last, split second, and then he panicked. Lurching forward, he cut through the water awkwardly, half running and half swimming as he cursed the weight of his jeans. Adrenaline rushed through his veins. Even his shoes were a hindrance - dead weights, dragging him back, back, back!
He was slow, too slow compared to that monster, it was going to snap him up-
But he made it. His relief was almost palpable. The shore was gritty under his hands, knees propelling himself up the incline towards safety in a waterlogged crawl.
He stopped. A jerk, and he was thrown back again. For a moment, he couldn't understand why. He was safe, he was on land.
Then the pain ripped up his leg. It reverberated through him, leaving his mouth in a howl as he was dragged back with a harder jerk into the waters. It rushed in, flooding his mouth and stinging his eyes, the green of the water clouding with a dark red color. Bubbles rushing out his open mouth, he twisted around as best as he could, face to face with the crocodile. He could reach out and touch the beast's snout, if he wanted - if his leg hadn't already been caught between those terrible teeth.
For a moment, he was suspended in the water, looking into a heartless and black eye. The monster smiled, then began to roll with a snap, dragging him along for the ride.
His leg felt like it was going to be ripped off - and surely it soon would under this dragging pressure. The world spun. Would he drown here? Was this where it ended - eaten by this black creature?
He refused!
No! He had to get back to Sydni! He couldn't, he'd sworn-
With a feral snarl, he thrust his hands forward. In the tumble of water and pain, it was a blind grasp, knocking against the snout of the monster. He latched on, digging his fingers into the scales and seeking more desperately, more furiously for those damned eyes-!
He had no claws, but it didn't matter. He scratched and ripped and dug at the monster's sight, until the beast was thrashing from pain rather than malice. Finally, the jaws released his ragged leg, that powerful tail propelling the monster away from its attacker. His lungs burned for air, arms windmilling him to the surface. He broke the water with a gasp, sucking air in greedily. He paddled, struggling to stay afloat, dizzily trying to re-orient himself. There, the shore-!
A heavy tail smacked into his side, sending him tumbling through the waters again with another crack of pain. But he was close enough. This time, pulling himself up onto the shore, he kicked out, deflecting the heavy jaws to the side. He dragged his carcass to the edge of the jungle, rolling over onto his back to gasp for breath and glare at the water's edge warily.
Crocodiles could walk on land, after all.
But no crocodile surfaced. The shaken waters were settling down again, until the surface was placid and calm once more. He shuddered, shook, heaving in breaths, before finally falling back with a wet squelch into the ground, staring up at the branches overhead.
That was - worse than the jaguar.
Much worse.
His leg was a mass of screaming pain. Ragged and cut and probably broken; his ribs were aching from being smacked into the water in that death roll. He'd nearly been crushed by water pressure alone.
But he was alive. That counted for something. He'd passed whatever test his god had put forth, for now. His god was predictable in that, at least - Vale had regained his approval.
He smiled, and then grinned, and then laughed up at the trees - it didn't last long, a quick chuckle and bark before he was hacking up all the water he swallowed, lurching to his side and coughing up a few gallons of water and his lungs. But he was happy - he was alive, possibly high off the adrenaline, and on his god's good side again.
He felt like he could do anything in this moment.
Except walk.
That one would take more work.
Points: 15.97
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Posted: Tue Apr 07, 2009 12:07 pm
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Posted: Tue Apr 07, 2009 1:15 pm
Solo Thirteen
[Meet the Parents: Dinner, Quinn, and a Mother]
Dinner was a heart-attack all on its own.
He'd faced down jaguars, rabid turkeys, crocodiles - had confronted adults to fight for jobs, been mugged twice, and even road a bike (hell on wheels). Dinner with a parent should be easy!
It wasn't.
He'd all but scrambled to be prepared, hindered by his leg. Setting the table, cleaning the kitchen, making the food - all while keeping Sydni from getting into trouble. He might as well have just put wheels on his cast for how much he was running around in a panic. His god stayed, if only to offer up cutting quips and sarcasm all around. He'd long since bypassed his disgust, and now sounded as if he was just waiting for it all to end in tragedy.
That made Valeriu even more nervous. He suspected things about Tezcatlipoca's mirror, had read things - things involving strange moments of foresight. It wasn't a reassuring thing. He had hoped Tezcatlipoca would stay angry.
And then there was dinner itself. That was a new kind of fear. Never before had he felt so clumsy or nervous - she was quiet, and he was quiet, and if Quinn wasn't there to save him he would've ended up tripping over himself like an idiot. Thankfully, he hadn't - though he felt like a bug under a microscope with her scrutiny.
But he thought it went well. He didn't screw up, the food was good, and dessert was tasty. She even complimented him.
He was happy to be compared to his mother. He'd always wanted to be like her - strong, independent, skillful and level-headed (though his dad might've whined that his beloved son was shunning him). There was no greater compliment for him.
Yes, it went really well. Even Sydni knew to be a good girl - though she'd gotten used to being a brat whenever Quinn was around. It was pleasant, and a success.
And he was so very, very relieved when it was over.
Parents were intimidating.
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Posted: Thu Apr 09, 2009 1:42 pm
[Picking up Strays: Meeting Tepin]
Found a girl named Tepin on the street - who would let a child freeze out there? I certainly couldn't. Maybe I'm a sucker when it comes to little sisters, but I couldn't leave her.
I couldn't even make her go back home. I'll see if I can't find where she lives - I don't mind her staying at my home for a few days, but I'm sure her parents are worried.
It's nice, feeling so reliable. I used to sleep with Sydni for the first few months because I was afraid something would go wrong with her if she was out of my sight. But no one's ever gone to me for protection before.
Little kids are so cute. I'd probably drag down the moon for this strange girl if she asked.
Points: 26.19
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