16 Unicorn Street | Friday Afternoon

[playsforkepesh]

It wasn't until Sam left to get her coffee that she realized that something strange was going on. The only reason she knew anything was happening at all was because of that man she saw singing happily about the ketchup stain on his pants finally being gone -- which would have been strange on its own, but when two people joined him as backup dancers, she felt fairly sure that this had Fandom's influence written all over it.

Sam, however, didn't seem to be affected, for which she was very glad. She got home, drank her coffee, and holed up in her living room, playing chess against herself.

As you did.

[[expecting one, but open!]]

Comments

[filleauloup]

Yes, the downside to being too good at lurking was going unnoticed. Éponine didn't hold that against her anyway; she was used to not being noticed, to the point that after almost half a year in Fandom it was still always a pleasant surprise when she was.

This did not mean she didn't resent it, somewhat.

She glared at the smug-looking squirrel up in the branches overhead (it was probably laughing at how some of the words got lost thanks to her broken voice) and continued, looking simultaneously hopeful and annoyed.

I see you and I'm so perplexed: what was I thinking?
What will I think of next? Where can I hide?
In the back room there's a lamp that hangs over the pool table
And when the fan is on it swings gently side to side
There's a changing constellation of the balls as we are playing
I see Orion and say nothing, the only thing I can think of saying

Is fuck you and your untouchable face
And fuck you for existing in the first place
And who am I that I should be vying for your touch?
And who am I? I bet you can't even tell me that much.

She had no idea what a pool table had to do with anything, but she didn't really care.

She trailed off into glassy-eyed, thoughtful silence for a few minutes, then snorted derisively; she'd started contemplating the idea of actually going up and knocking on the door like a normal visitor, but that was stupid. (The thought was far too ingrained that people like her only got doors slammed in their faces if they tried.) So no. She pressed closer against the trunk of the tree and stayed right where she was for a while longer, breaking out into other fragments of song every now and then.

Eventually, though, and as furtively as she'd arrived, she disappeared again.