| Title: Fireside discussions Time: Friday, March 19, 2004 The Thespians: Lien Nguyen and Pascal Curio Location: Allis Memorial Center - Combination Room Notes: Rather short scene that I had before I headed out for my weekly Friday night of paint the town red. RPing with Lien is always so... well... look at it, darnit. :) |
| +---[ Allis Memorial Center - Combination Room ]-----------------------------+ | | | All round the paneled walls there hang ancient paintings of departed | | figures, lit from above by shaded torchlight; all these painted with | | exquisite detail and framed in gold and silver. Stately chairs with their | | arms stamped in gold on their Spanish leather seats - the leather starting | | to come off - are arranged in a semi-circle round a majestic fireplace, | | and there are mahogany fans with which everybody can shield their faces | | from the flames, as well as a kind of tilting board by means of which | | decanters could be slid back from the bottom of the semi-circle to the top | | (most interestingly enough these bottles remain stacked neatly in a rack | | in the corner). Among the dusty cobwebs distributed in high corners, all | | appears extremely ancient. | | | +----------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |
| The torchlight here provides almost a perfect sort of atmosphere to be doing meditation, or something rather secretive. The flickering flames from the fireplace dance upon the walls to create many sorts of moving shadows, which can also be rather scary at times. Pascal doesn't seem to mind the dancing shadows, and for the moment, she's managed to tune them out, currently seated with her legs tucked beneath her one of the chairs closest to the fireplace. Samson is found with her today, and as always, the frisky cat is chasing the shadows on the walls. The girl is more preoccupied, chewing on the nib of her writing utensil, a leather bound book in her lap. |
| Another shadow adds itself to the collection on the walls as Lien Nguyen steps into the room, smells like coffee and pasta sauce lingering in her robes after her walk through the Room of Scents to get to this one. She, too, has a book, a massive tome that just dwarfs her, tucked under her arm, and she's too preoccupied with its weight to look around and get a good look at the room's other occupants. Heaving it and herself into a chair and tucking her feet up to let the book fall open on her lap, the sixth grade girl finally looks up at Pascal. "Oh," she says, "hello. |
| At Lien's voice, both Pascal and Samson look up rather abruptly, the former definitely looking more surprised than the latter. The cat slowly, nonchalantly, pads his way over to the younger girl, and stands by her chair, his tail waving in the air like a charmed snake. Pascal, on the other hand, quickly snaps the leather bound book shut with a curt *snap* and stuffs it in her robe quickly. The lighting makes it hard to see much colour on her face, but perhaps a slight flush may have been detected in it? Quickly, that is masked and she puts on her regular scowl. "Hello. And of all the rooms in this school we had to choose the same one too." Yup, same old Pascal. |
| Should we be surprised? No, not really. Lien's face scrunches into an equally familiar wrinkled nose look. "Sorry," she says. "We don't get to start Divination until eighth grade." The smaller girl looks relatively unphased by Pascal's attitude. Or maybe she's beginning to catch on how much worse it gets if you let them see how it gets to you. The narrator doubts it. Leaning over the arm of her chair, Lien reaches down to ruffle Samson's ears. Not HIS fault his owner's a jerk, is it? |
| Samson flattens his ears behind his head and seems to look rather pleased with Lien, his tail going slightly mad as he moves his head this way and that to nuzzle Lien's hand. The happy look on Samson's face is actually reflected on Pascal's as her entire body relaxes and she just watches Lien shower attention on Samson. Meow. Loud purr. In any case, Pascal produces another book from the insides of her robe and opens it, keeping her eyes glued to Lien, thus making her book rather useless to be holding anyway. She bites on her lip, and her only response to Lien's comment is a dark, "Right." |
| Lien's huge old volume isn't doing much more good than Pascal's, as the child is still bent over the side of her chair to pet the cat. Pascal's eyes on her are a little uncomfortable and she looks up to stare back. "You're nicer when your cat's around," she observes, tactlessly. "How come?" |
| Oh god. Did Lien just call Pascal nice? The end of her world is slowly approaching on her, and thank goodness the fireplace already casts a semi-red glow on her face. She stiffens somewhat, and her knuckles whiten as she tightens her grasp on her book. A strangled smile is plastered onto Pascal's face, and as she cocks her head to look at Lien, her voice is thin, but sweet as she says, "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm /always/... nice." She had to struggle with that last word. |
| NICER was the word Lien used. "Nice" is still a bit of a stretch. "No," says she, "usually you're all mean and stuff." Did someone curse her or something to make her rash, or has she just lost some of her wits this afternoon? She's still bent over, petting the cat, and her glasses slip down from the awkward position. |
| This conversation could get rather interesting. Pascal leans back in her chair, and rests her book in her lap. She folds her fingers together calmly and places her hands on top of her book, an eerily calm expressio on her face as she stares at Lien with a smile that is much too friendly. Samson meows loudly and climbs up onto Lien's chair arm, and stares at Pascal, then looks back at Lien. "Whatever you do mean, Lien, whatever do you mean? How am I... 'all mean and stuff'?" That annoying sing-song quality that people use in their voice to condescend or patronize has crept into Pascal's. She places little quotes around the last four words with her fingers, and then laces her hands back together. |
| Vaguely aware of the hole she's digging around herself, Lien hesitates before answering, but finally says, "You treat people like they're all your inferiors." Beat. Come to think of it, Pascal probably DOES consider them all her inferiors. "And... never mind. You're nicer when your cat's around." Protect Lien from the wrath of Pascal, Samson! She'll give you ear scritchies if you do. |
| "They /are/ my inferiors," Pascal says sharply, just securing that little thought into Lien's head. She suddenly stands up from her chair, her robes rustling as they fall to the ground to cover her legs and feet. Samson jerks his head in Pascal's direction, and quickly hops off of Lien's chair towards the older girl. A smirk crosses her face, and she says to Lien pointedly, "I wouldn't treat people the way you think I treat them, if they didn't let me treat them that way." Just a little hint for the girl there, since Samson's taking such a liking to her, Pascal is going to /try/ to cut her some slack. "Good day," she says, and then sweeps out of the room, leaving the little girl with the company of the dancing shadows on the walls. |
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