Room 808: Low On The High End

[Fenris]

Nia was so thoroughly engrossed in her own world, here known as "the thirteen Wikipedia tabs she currently had opened on her phone", that the thump of Forrest falling off the bed barely registered. Dolly getting up and leaving the room registered slightly more, if only because she was in Nia's more immediate vicinity. Neither mattered, particularly. She briefly considered sending a text message, decided against it as her theoretical target was likely still unpacking, and instead decided that perhaps a marginally more private change of location was in order. Well, more private by some definitions; there would be more people in more common areas, presumably, but perhaps not so close, and not, as she noted briefly and filed to an inconsequential folder in her memory, quite so close to each other.

Having comfortably claimed her space on her bed, she separated from it, sliding off and onto her feet. She passed the foot of the other two's bed just in time to catch Beryl's words, to which she replied with a stiffly signed "DON'T--RECOMMEND", memories from the night of Forrest's party still sticking to her throat. Then she added a nod and a wave before following Dolly's path out the door, no particular destination in mind but a slightly more quiet corner.

>> Apollonia "Nia" Karahalios continued in Did Bigfoot Take It?

[Deamon]

And then fifty percent of them were gone.

Okay, so that made it sound super dramatic when in reality all that had happened was that two of them had left the room. It did, however, mean that only two of them remained, dun dun duuuun. Man, it was really easy to make things more dramatic than they were. Forrest was starting to realise how stuff would get passed around school as a big deal. All it required was phrasing something and slightly different way and then boom gossip of the century.

But anyway, Dolly left to go take a phone call and Nia just walked out. So that was how she ended up alone with Beryl in the room. Not that she really minded. Beryl was chill and generally a good time. Plus she had crawled across the floor like an animal and was helping her up, so Forrest couldn't complain.

It was a weird feeling being helped up by Beryl because of the size difference. Forrest was normalish sized. At least she assumed she was, but Beryl was way bigger than her. Both in height and build. Beryl was built like an athlete while Forrest was built like an elf with a drug problem. Exercise wasn't something she did, like ever but Beryl did and Forrest could appreciate that. It was cozy almost.

"It's a good time, let's you get rid of your worries for however long the night lasts. Plus drunk people do funny stuff because their brains go dumb."

[Cicada]

DON'T... YOU'RE WELCOME

Beryl supposed that was a particularly esoteric manner of signing a message along the lines of 'don't even mention it', but Beryl wasn't too concretely sure what she was supposed to thank Nia for as the other girl left? Well, Beryl was positive she had many things to be thankful for and not thankful for anyways! So of course she spiritually absolved Nia's recommendation and request, by promptly forgetting what had just happened. 'Don't mention it' indeed.

"Swiftball and the prom after parties right? I've heard good things not personally experienced." A lot of things she'd seemingly missed out on these past few months.

Forrest was arranged by the limb and crudely, like a child's doll. They were on the bed now, Beryl let go and donned some arbitrary amount of distance. Still casually lingering close by with the weight of her presence casting a shadow over Forrest's smaller silhouette. Far more dramatic than room lighting usually allowed for.

"Funny in the way where you laugh with them? Or at them?" It seemed an innocent enough question.

[Deamon]

Beryl placed her on the bed then reclined a little bit over on one side. There was a bit of a gap, but not a large one, so they were still close together.

Forrest nodded as Beryl mentioned the types of parties she meant.

"Yeah like those, except didn't make any prom after-parties because y'know..." She waved her right arm as an additional way of explanation. Breaking her arm had really put a major crimp and had led to the aforementioned awkwardness she had been dwelling at the beginning. "Sometimes with, sometimes at, but never maliciously. It's always just part of the fun."

There was never a moment Forrest considered doing anything at a party other than enjoying herself. There was something liberating about it. She got to play, mix and dance to music. She got to take things to enhance the time she was having, it was all part of the experience and she had been on all sides of it. But that was all part of the experience in the end, but really that wasn't the point at hand, was it?

She rolled onto her side so she was facing Beryl thus ruining whatever artistic pose she been arranged into. Whoops.

"You should come to my next one. You'll probably enjoy it."

[Cicada]

Beryl contemplated the cast wrapped around Forrest's arm. Yes indeed, it did exist. It was already quite colorful, sterile medical white painted over with colors and sentiments both pleasing to the eye. It was one of those things- a change of persona, a modification perhaps temporary as the body healed, but still meaningful. Art in and of itself, expression in the form of how it characterized a friend, and the life she'd experienced and had yet to.

"Everything is part of the fun, I believe. Even the boring moments, even the bad."

Forrest turned to face her. A better look on her, when they were face to face. Beryl seemed to prefer what was made by the self, rather than by others on their behalf. It was more natural, and more of nature.

"I certainly would." Beryl was long enough that she could flop over onto her back and extend her arms all the way to her bag still sitting open and chaotically bursting at the seams. Fishing out the tarot, the pendants and charms, the sharpie in the most playful shade of buttercup yellow.

"If I'll be here," she concluded frankly as she presented the pen to Forrest. "I haven't gotten the chance yet, so may I?"

[Deamon]

This was cool. This was a moment. Forrest has never been around Beryl on an individual basis for long before. She found herself regretting that somewhat, it seemed like she’d been missing out. Luckily for her chance had decided to step in and bail her out. It made up for her wasting the time she’d been provided.

Beryl retrieved a pen and Forrest grinned. If there was one upside to breaking her arm it was that she got to be an art installation. A canvas for meaningless pleasantries and more revealing messages of friendship. The message scrawled across the chartreuse portion of her arm serving as a memento and window into the relationships she had built up.

So when Beryl produced the pen and requested the chance to leave a message on the tone Forrest had only one response.

“You certainly may.”

[Cicada]

Yellow was the prayer compelling victory in battle. Yellow was safe return home. Yellow was cradled between two fingers on Beryl's dominant hand, nested between the many other colors wound around her small-seeming fingers.

"And I certainly will."

Beryl gently clasped Forrest's hand. She needed the leverage. Drawing was an act more than the mere physical appearance of a pen dancing to a beat decided by another, was more than mental perception of shapes and perspective discombobulated into a smaller amount of dimensions than was practical or relevant. Drawing was a spiritual act, it was the hum of Beryl's breathless chant that might have been one she'd remembered from her long-since forgotten childhood, a memory meaningful in how transient it seemed to be to the moment. She could not give voice to her prayer, she wasn't even aware it could be spoken. It was without substance, an abstraction of intent that followed along as lines crossed, were reinforced with thin wicker strokes.

Bound as we are in mortal refuge,
I am blessed to be able to sacrifice me for you,
Our blood in separate bodies flows,
Skin to skin the same color shows.

Her thoughts louder for how silent they were.

The sigil was small, ultimately. Beryl didn't want to steal away too much space. She continued to refine the sketch, narrowing the detail bit by bit, working shadow in with the slightest of pressure from the sharpie tip.

"Someday, perhaps... this summer. I've never had a party in my house before. Grandpa won't be back until I leave for college," and she'd never finished deciding on that particular course of action, she realized. So many things there were, left undecided, unacknowledged. "And you wouldn't have to clean up the mess this time."

She shed the pen that marked the final boundary between herself and another. She traced her message for Forrest with her fingers now, and then let her fingers linger a moment longer after they were done. She watched Forrest in that moment, eyes meeting, unknowingly negotiating something not quite privy to either party involved. Forrest's hand then fell away.

"E ulu i ka lani,
e ulu i ka honua."

Beryl knew moments like this. Moments spent with another, once more on the precipice of remembering that Beryl would someday learn to stop wanting things she was not allowed to have. Moments in time where she almost allowed herself in her weakness to be afraid. Of what was to come, of what she'd allowed herself to be, of those things that she did not know much of.

It passed, as all other things eventually did, eventually would. And she nodded softly, and prepared to listen. Listening being something she did from time to time, all too little, all too much. She checked her pinkie finger. Red intertwined with blue.

Time was up, but she didn't know for what.

((Beryl Mahelona...
V7 Pregame Concluded))

[Deamon]

There you go. The deal was made and they were off. Beryl was signing...whatever it was she was going to sign. Forrest had built up quite the collection in the time since she had turned her arm into bone chips. She hadn't counted, but she could eyeball all the messages and remember who had made them. It was socially rewarding in its own weird way. As it turned out, Beryl was drawing an image of some kind. Forrest had no idea what it was but effort was being put in. There was shading and everything going on.

Huh, she'd never learned how to draw. Forrest made a note to try that when she was at college or wherever she ended up. It could be a nice, new hobby. Focus her, explore new worlds. Maybe. Where was she even supposed to be going for college?Forrest had forgotten. There had been a plan of some sort. She was sure of that but the actual content of the plan was now beyond her. Her memories had filed it away for the time being and misplaced the keys. It was a trait of theirs. Belatedly she realized Beryl had started talking to her again.

"Yeah, that sounds fun." She said. She was going to say more, more about how it had been a lot to clean up and how it was like a group of raccoons had rioted in her house but Beryl was continuing on. She said something in a different language and Forrest didn't know what it meant. In the deep recesses of her subconscious, she felt like part of her knew and understood, but it wasn't the part that was present.

Beryl held her hand and they looked into each other's eyes, their gazes lingering.

Then her hand dropped and it was over.

((Forrest Quin continued elsewhere...))