Welcome to Gaia! ::

Beth was just pulling her black long sleeved dressing gown over her silky purple pj romper when she heard a light knock. Beth blinked, looking over at the door. She did a quick self-assessment. Though her knee-jerk reaction was that she needed her rest and had no interest in entertaining, a deeper feeling in her gut protested the idea that she keep to herself. It was the cowering, mewling child in her that demanded she cling to anyone who reached for her in this dark and scary forest.

Cautiously, Beth answered the door, features arranged in polite curiosity. When she saw Misha in full sleepover regalia, a genuine smile spread across her face. "Misha!" She chimed, opening the door wider. She threw her arms around the other woman, holding her tightly, but careful to keep her sleeves pulled tight on her arms. She pulled away, looking a bit coy as she asked, "Did you come to check on me?" She glanced to the other woman's eyes and, seeing an emptiness there that reflected in answer to her own, looked away.

Another time, she might have anxiously prodded her for an answer, but today she couldn't muster up the concern. "Sorry I haven't cleaned up." She waved a hand at the piles of brand name clothes and shoes, strewn about haphazardly, the clear sign of someone who had "absolutely nothing to wear!" Oh, there were clothes hanging up in the closet, which might have made it an issue of space as well as one of sloppy character. Or slothful.

The bed was covered in a veritable nest of dark blankets and stuffed animals--all of them adorable, huggable versions of movie monsters. Beth had draped a purple scarf over the lamps, adding a darker cast to the blues and greens that came standard in the Hera dorm. A laptop and tablet sat on the desk. Soft, atmospheric music, clearly meant help her chill out, played in the background, tinny without the aid of loud speakers.

"How did you know I loved chocolate? A woman after my own heart!" She smiled invitingly but fidgeted nonetheless at the idea of Misha judging her for the state of her room.


WC: 365. Total: 365.

Beth's face went frightened but blank for a moment before her smile returned. 'Do I really look bad?' she wondered to herself. She forced herself to laugh and said, "No, no fashion show. This is just...how it looks." She laughed sheepishly then said, "Ohmigosh, hold on. You probably want a place to sit!" She quickly started grabbing armfuls of dresses and shifting them to the place that all clothes, clean or dirty, eventually end up: the computer chair. Satin and silk in various jewel tones were mixed in with black lace and chiffon. It did not seem as though she knew the meaning of the word "casual." She tripped over a pair of mulberry heels but righted herself within a step and dropped the load with a light whumph.

She put her hands on her hips with what might have been victory in her eyes, but there was a cast of uncertainty to it as she instinctively looked to Misha for approval. "Sorry, there's not much in here. Daddy only let me bring six suitcases on the plane." She waved again. "Feel free to look through them! I didn't have a chance to go on a refresh splurge before I left." She frowned a bit. "Do you think there's any good shopping around here? I'm a bit fuzzy on the area." She paused, giving Misha a panicked look, "I mean, if that's something you're...y'know, interested in."

She had meant to thank her for her consideration, to coolly agree that the two of them could share the load of calories, to ask what, precisely, ailed her. But, just as it had with Brian and Asher, her mouth was moving faster than her brain--or at least straining down new, sudden paths she had not planned for, leaving her to fumble around for words. She had been put off kilter by Misha's insinuation that she looked something other than normal. (As it was, she hoped normal was radiant, glamorous, and intriguing.) The observation was accurate, but just because something was true did not mean she wanted to be reminded of it. Her hand unconsciously went to cup her elbow, which made her look as if she was giving herself a hug.


WC: 367. Total: 732

Beth smiled in relief as she was dragged to sit on her bed. "Thanks. It's all pretty much last season at this point, but as Mother says, since my tastes are a bit...old fashioned anyway, nothing is last season for me." It hadn't been a compliment when she'd said it, but Beth ignored that detail. She giggled and pulled a red dress from where it lay crumpled under a pillow. She held it up to Misha's shoulder and tilted her head, considering. She let go of the dress to pull open the cookies. She pulled out two and handed the tray back to Misha, setting it on the crinoline of the red dress. She leaned back, letting out a loud sigh. "Something like that. As short as we are, we need all the help we can get!"

She bit into her cookie, stretched out on the bed that was surprisingly enough for two people. Beth let a hand flop down, musing about this, before saying, "Don't dorm rooms usually have twin beds? Maybe they're trying to say something to us Chosen." She turned her head up a bit to make eye contact with Misha so she could get the full effect as she waggled her eyebrows up and down, exaggerating the suggestiveness and making it a joke rather than an advance.


WC: 222, Total: 954

Beth's eyes sparked with mischief. "Why, that would be awful considerate of them, Misha. Making sure we can get both exercise and a good night's rest!" She giggled. "This is much better than any public university I've been to! But, I guess, what can you expect from the government when stacked up against gods!" She frowned. "Though I guess it's not technically a university. I keep forgetting it. I think if I had to go through that...unpleasantness for some college credit...it would almost make it worth it."

She fell silent, wondering why everything came back around to the terrifying experience in the Alps. And why she felt the need to make light of it. Would it really be so bad to admit how she trembled still to think of it? How looking at herself in a mirror was nearly as painful as receiving any of the scars? 'No one likes a whiner, Beth,' she thought viciously to herself, clenching the fist on the opposite side of Misha into the quilt.

She was thankful that Misha gave her something non-traumatizing to latch onto. She smiled like a cat that had just finished devouring a canary--or cookie, in this case--and said, "Mmmm, tall and athletic. I have to agree with you, there! You know, it can be nice to be shorter than them. They can wrap their arms around you and lean down to kiss your head. And, with some height differences, you can be bosom height!"


WC: 247, Total: 1,201

Beth took a deep breath. She needed to be present. She needed to be there for Misha. She didn't want to lose one of her new friends. It was tempting to curl up inside her mind and spiral into the echo chamber of her own thoughts. But she knew that it wasn't going to solve anything. So she made herself roll over on her side, cradling her head on a palm. Her other hand, the one that had been clenched, crept over and took another cookie.

She studied the cookie then took another bite. "Being athletic means that they can do all of the work!" She chirped, waggling her eyebrows again. She let out a long sigh, one that spoke of entitled ennui. Mournfully, she said, "I don't ask for much, I just want a chiseled, marble Adonis who worships me. I think we deserve that much, you know?" She grinned over at Misha.


WC: 154, Total: 1355

Beth laughed, genuinely amused. "Be still, my beating heart! One can only hope! Perhaps we could petition the Gods. Start a prayer circle." She giggled again, watching Misha pull out a thermos with idle interest. "Though who do you think should Choose him? That's the real question. Gotta find the right fit, you know?" She snerked a bit. "The other other question is whether it's first come first serve" the strain of her voice to keep talking indicated that she did indeed know the (un)fortunate(?) turn of phrase, "or if we can come to a ladies' agreement of taking turns."


WC: 100, Total: 1,455

"Right. We can't make him work on the Sabbath, after all." She sighed, a slight smile curving her lips as she thought about the idea of Chris Evans showing up at the Prytaneum the next day. And all the wonderful/terrible things she would want to do.

Beth caught the bottles--or caught one in one hand and the other landed on her more than ample bosom. She inspected the one in her hand, letting the other rest on the black fabric of her dressing gown. "Godiva liqueur? Oh, Misha you spoil me." Beth leaned up and looked around, even as she said, "I have a water bottle, but it's full at the moment." She stood and walked to the bathroom. "But I think I should have a tumbler here... She returned triumphant. "There were some disposable paper cups in here too." She lifted the stack of cups. They weren't as big as usual cups, but they seemed like they would do the job...whatever that was.


...why am I keeping track of this I already hit word count