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Post by Jenny on Jul 26, 2007 10:24:33 GMT -5
'Only if they don't click when you move them.' Olaf told her. 'That's just plain weird.'
She laughed. This was the killer who had no feelings? He couldn't listen to people's ankles clicking? It was plain ridiculous..
'What about wrists?' she said, twisting hers, one of whih clicked. Olaf grimaced and cringed.
'Stop it,' he whined. 'I hate it when bones click. It's gross.'
'Nerd,' she laughed at him.
'...Clicky!' he named her.
'Oooh, I'm so offended.' she sarcastically chuckled. 'So, today, I've found out that you don't like spiders, freak out when bones click and lock everyone that wokrs for you in cupboards.'
'It makes them more agreeable,' he reasoned.
'I doubt that.'
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Post by Hanna Squalor on Jul 26, 2007 14:24:34 GMT -5
"Fine. Have it your way." Olaf picked her up and carried her to the large hall closet and stuck her in it. He closed and locked the door. "Is it just making you see life in a new light?" Olaf asked.
"What light?!?" she yelled, banging on the door.
"Grumpy.....want to stay there a little longer?" He asked.
"Open the door."
"Okay..." Olaf said opening the closet door and being pulled in before he could tell what was happening.
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Post by Jenny on Jul 27, 2007 7:34:13 GMT -5
He laughed and she blocked the path to his way out, grinning widely. He looked back at her in confusion.
'What are you doing?' he enquired, raising one side of his long eyebrow.
Once she was satisfied with thye door being blocked for the time being, she turned to him in the dark, assuming the tall thing was Olaf and not the broom.
'I thought it would be fun.' she explained badly.
'What, standing in the hall closet for ages in the dark? Yes, I can't think of anything more thrilling.' he sarcastically laughed. She slapped him on the shoulder.
'Lighten up.'
'I can't, without any light whatsoever.'
'Don't get smart with me,' she laughed. 'This was your idea.'
He smiled. 'You know, I can think of something far more thrilling to do with our time, if you're looking for--'
'No,' she interrupted quickly. 'This is fun.'
Olaf folded his arms sulkily. 'You're boring, and if I scare you you'll burst my ear drums with your screaming, so I can't have any fun.'
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Post by Hanna Squalor on Aug 27, 2007 17:12:34 GMT -5
(For the sake of moving right along. Fastforward.)
One morning Esme woke up to the sound of pouring rain. Olaf snored beside her, and wouldn't be up for hours. A large crash of thunder woke him up. "What the hell was that? Is Yacki trying to bring a goat into the kitchen again?"
"No. It's a storm. Esme turned on the light, it was black like night time in the house. It creaked and groaned in th strom wind and rain. A bright flash and a loud bang later, and they were in the dark again. the lights flickered back on in moments, just in time for Yakitawhatver to come crashing through the door.
"Lauf! Ssme! Bad Strum! Bassemunt ish fludding."
Silence.
"What?" Olaf asked.
"It's a bad storm and the basement is flooding. You're an idiot." Esme said, getting out of bed, and rushing with Yaki downstairs to look at the problem. It was more than flooding, to house was filling. It looked like a water pipe had burst and had started to gush into the basement, the water was halfway up the stairs.
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Post by Jenny on Sept 2, 2007 10:59:25 GMT -5
Esmé stood there in shock in her nightgown for a minute, before Yakithing got hysterical and grabbed one of her employers by the shoulders.
'Ssme!' she cried in despair, shaking the young girl lightly. 'What to do? What to do?'
Overwhelmed suddenly by the fact that she was being touched by someone with fleas, Esmé made a strange squeaky sound and pulled away from Yaka, grimacing. After brushing herself down to an acceptable level, she reverted back to considering the problem at hand.
She would have ordinarily told Yaka to call for some sort of emergency help, but she wasn't sure how famous Olaf was for the crimes he'd commited. She would have to ask him first.
She tapped a sobbing Yaki on the shoulder lightly in what she hoped might have been a comforting manner before making her way back up to her bedroom.
Olaf was still in bed, looking totally relaxed and reading the paper from the day before with little interest. Once he caught sight of Esme running into the room looking distressed, he finally did ask the inevitable question.
'What was Yakigirl talking about again?'
'Flooding,' Esme told him. 'Lots of flooding.' At this point she had grabbed his arm and forced some clothes at him.
'Aw, but it's only eight o'clock...'
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Post by freeeagle on Sept 5, 2007 19:51:22 GMT -5
{I'm back after a long absence, I know, but I was hoping to continue with the RP. *smiles endearingly* I'll try to read the pages to catch myself up, and hopefully I can keep up with the RPing. I'd also be willing to play Kit or Jacques, if they're needed.}
Beatrice was awake, reading love poetry in bed. It was for an assignment due on Monday, and she opened her Literature notebook to the first page, which was blank. It was no use trying to analyse it, she simply could not think of a single word to start with. Instead, she began to doodle a large heart on the inside cover of the notebook. She ran her pen over its outline several times, and spontaneously began to write in Jerome in big, curly script. She traced over the J until there was a deep dent in the paper.
Beatrice peered over her notebook to the bedroom across the hall. One bed was severely mussed, and the other was neatly made. Half-dazed, Beatrice walked across the cold hardwood to the other bedroom. Kit was gone somewhere, and so was R. It felt strangely silent in the dorm, her feet making soft noises against the floor. Esme's half of the room had been cleaed out, packed away and cleaned, so that it was as if she had never been there. It made Beatrice's heart ache for her friend.
Of course, she had heard the story, although it hadn't really shocked her, just confirmed suspicions she hadn't known she had had. It was just like Esme to get mixed up in this kind of thing. Still, she would miss her friend dearly.
Between the dresser and the bed, she saw a glint of metal. She bent down, and picked it up. It was a small silver bracelet, engraved with Esme's name. She remembered it, and Esme saying it had been a gift from her parents from before she had been taken. Esme would want it back.
Of course, Beatrice had no way of knowing where she had gone. She presumed with Olaf, although she had no idea where that might be, after all, she had never been there herself. She only hoped that her friend would contact her before too long. She fingered the bracelet, and frowned.
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Post by Hanna Squalor on Sept 8, 2007 16:32:28 GMT -5
By the time Esme had dragged Olaf down stairs, insiting that they couldn't wipe it pup with a towel, the flooding was almost reaching the main floor.
Olaf swore as he looked into his basement. They hadn't called for any help when the city plumbing stopped by. Apperantly the pipe burst was the government's fault due to inscreased pressure during storms. They had tracked the spot of the burst to this house.
Pumping equipment in through the front door and pipes into the water they worked hard, but never seemed to make any progress. Olaf was sitting in the living room with Esme. They were still in their night clothes.
They sipped coffee as the workers tracked mud through the room, Yakita desperatly scrubbing the halfways to no avail. There was water pouring in the front door from rain and the basement water was spilling into the kitchen.
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Post by Jenny on Sept 10, 2007 14:55:56 GMT -5
'My house is ruined,' Olaf commented sadly at one point, watching Yaka trying to clean everything around the house.
'Your house was ruined when I moved in.' Esmé told him, taking a cup of coffee over to one man who was now completely drenched trying to rain the basement. She got her feet wet in the process, and proceeded to place them over his legs. He did nothing about it.
'Now you really will have to repaint.'
'Over my dead body, sweetheart.'
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Post by Hanna Squalor on Sept 10, 2007 19:54:10 GMT -5
Esme said nothing. "Sweetheart. I like it when you say things like that." she grinned, and proceeded to kiss him.
He smirked to himself. If nicknames was all it took to get her like this he should be doing it more often. "Well, Darling, if I'd known I would have started sooner."
She was sitting in his lap now, nuzzling him. One of the men pumping the basement stared at them from the hallway, wondering how an old man got a young thing like that.
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Post by Jenny on Sept 12, 2007 15:33:10 GMT -5
'He must have a lot of money,' one of the workmen mused to his colleague. This was his only possible explanation for the cutesylittle thing crawling on him and the fact that he also had a very paranoid maid running around the place.
'With a house like this, mate? Doubt it. Probably his daughter. You know what some families are like 'round here.'
'Sponges?' Yaki asked Esmé and Olaf. They looked back at her blankly. 'We will need sponges! It will not be dry! Your carpet ruined! Ruined!'
Olaf started to laugh slightly at strange Yakati rambling on about sponges. She was so...helpful. He wasn't sure it was a quality he needed much around his house.
'The televiion won't even work, I bet.' Olaf stood up to try it, and instantly Yaki, four workmen and Esmé jumped up to stop him. God, he was stupid sometimes.
'Damn,' Olaf said, as he sat down.
'What?' Esmé asked rearranging him so she could sit around him comfortably.
'I was thinking maybe I might have found a way to kill you that wasn't my fault. Everyone would believe you electrocuted yourdelf on a television.'
She slapped him, and caught sight of her wrist. For the first ime, she noticed it was bare. A feeling of dread went through her quickly. How could she have forgotten?
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Post by Hanna Squalor on Sept 12, 2007 16:18:20 GMT -5
She got up an ran up stairs. "Where are you going? I thoght we were-" she didn't hear the rest, she was in the bedroom, going through her jewlery box. It wasn't there. It wan't stuck to any of her clothes and it wasn't in her jean pockets.
She pulled the phone up onto the bed, straining the cord. She dialed the school's number. When D answered she decieded to pull a fake voice. It was higher and calmer. "Hello is Kit Snicket there please?" she asked.
"Miss Snicket is at home for a family emergency."
"Oh so sorry to hear. Is Beatrice..... Um...." Esme never remembered that girl's last name. Yakita's name was easier to remember. "Beatrice her roommate? , is she available. It's important."
"Yes Miss. One moment." They connected her to her old room. Bea answered.
"Hi, Bea. It's me E. " It rhymed, that's why she said it. It was her usual greeting when she needed something from her.
"Esme! I have-"
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Post by Jenny on Sept 13, 2007 13:44:52 GMT -5
'Bea, I can't talk long,' she lied. She just didn't want to get wrapped up in too much conversation.
'Why not?' Beatrice asked quietly. She always wanted to know what was happening, where she was. Esmé rarely told.
'...I just can't.' she snapped. 'But Bea, have you seen--'
'Your bracelet, yes,' said Beatrice quietly. She was slightly insulted that Esmé was obviously avoiding talking to her for long. Could she be angry? But what for? Beatrice had done nothing except miss her terribly since she'd left. Kit she'd heard however had been much more a part of her friends expulsion.
'Smashing,' Esmé said. And then it occured to her. How could she hope to retrieve it? She couldn't go to the school.
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Post by freeeagle on Sept 13, 2007 19:51:36 GMT -5
"Listen, E, do you want me to bring it by? I mean, if you could just let me get a pen and paper, I could write down the directions. I know it means a lot to you, hon." she said in a soothing way, as she always did when Esme seemed upset. She brushed her red-brown hair away from her face and ripped a page of lined notebook paper from the coiled spine, and grabbed the blue pen with the chewed cap. She felt the tension of the question between them, pulled tight as an elastic begging to be released. "Are you living with him Esme?" she asked, her voice a whisper. She didn't want to tell anyone that she was, or if she wasn't, but she needed to know. How could she not need to know? She wished she hadn't said it at all, but there was no taking it back. She was pressing the blue pen hard into the paper, as the ink pooled into a large blot. Esme was quiet on the other end, but Beatrice could hear her breathing softly into the receiver. She knew she would hate herself if she could never hear Esme speak again, even if it was through the plastic receiver of the pay phone. Despite all of the conditions surrounding it, Beatrice knew their friendship was strong.
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Post by Hanna Squalor on Sept 14, 2007 10:26:17 GMT -5
"Yes." Esme answered at length.
"But you can't come here... Actually it's near the bank, you could meet me there." Esme suggested.
"I never said that you couldn't have guests." Olaf annouced behind her, loud enough for Bea to hear.
"Oh." Esme breathed, she didn't want her friend to see the house, espcially her richest and most popular friend. She thought of the basement. "We're having a water problem right now, we're having some work done." Esme lied.
"It's fine." Bea started.
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Post by Jenny on Sept 14, 2007 16:51:44 GMT -5
'No,' Esmé said all too quickly, glancing over at Olaf and then back to her feet. He was sure to have realised what she was doing. 'Really, the damage is quite severe. It's best you don't visit, not will everyone working on it. We're likely to get in the way.'
There was a short silence, and she could feel Olaf sitting down and studying her carefully. She didn't want to put down the phone and explain herself, so she kept on talking.
'Do you know where the bank is, Bea?' she asked, talking again to stop any awkward silences.
'Yes.' Beatrice was worried now, very worried. Esmé had never been concered about getting in other people's way, not really. Something was wrong. Was she regretting her decision. Beatrice realized she would have more luck getting her answers in person. 'Tomorrow? Outside it?'
'Yes,' Esmé said, glancing at Olaf again guiltily. 'At twelve o'clock. We'll go for lunch.'
'How delightful,' Beatrice said, but her voice wavered a little. The girls had never spoken so awkwardly--they didn't know what to say after their sudden seperation.
They said quick goodbye's and finalised their arrangements. Esmé took her time placing the phone aside, and then looked up.
Olaf had sat in a comfortable chair at one corner of the room. 'I have no problem with you having visitors, as long as you tell me.'
'I know,' she breathed, thinking perhaps he had not noticed her reluctance.
He smiled, standing, and brushed her cheek with his hand in a rather rare and rather genuine affectionate gesture.
'Darling,' he said softly, deciding little names like that were a good idea from now on. 'I promise I'll re-paint.'
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