fandomtownies | Magic Box, Thursday, 4/21

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Magic Box, Thursday, 4/21

Things seemed surprisingly, perhaps even suspiciously, quiet in the shop and on the island today. Once Tara had unpacked a handful of fresh herbs and rearranged the crystal display, there wasn't a lot to do, so she settled in behind the counter with a novel and relaxed. Her thoughts tended toward daydreaming about the summer to come.

[OOC: Open shop, though I may be slow due to evil works.]

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Kennedy was still feeling a little dazed and... okay, sort of in denial about the fact that she'd finished her last high school class ever unless that flunking-and-staying-back plan worked, and she doubted that.

She'd picked up lasagna and minestrone for lunch, but she looked the slightest bit unfocused today; being at loose ends was a weird feeling, and she was not a fan.

"Tell me a story?" she asked, teasing, once she noticed Tara's book.

"I'm not sure," Tara teased. "Gnomes are getting killed. It might be disturbing."

As she spoke, she leaned over the counter for a kiss hello.

"Oh my god, what are you--" The question had to get put on hold for a proper hello, which also involved using her mouth but in a way that precluded speaking.

"-- reading?" Kennedy asked once she broke away from the kiss. "Sounds kinda violent for just before lunch."

...because the faintest prospect of violence was such a deterrent for her. Right.

"The same kind of stupid fantasy thing I always read?" Tara asked. "Just ... this one has a lot more dead gnomes than usual. I missed that there was going to be a battle scene."

Shrugging, she set the book aside. "I could make up something less upsetting."

"Or we could put storytime on hold until later," suggested Kennedy, except now she was curious about the battle scene. (That wasn't likely to end well; she might critique it.) "I'm not so much into fairy tales, not the way I used to be."

She fiddled with the containers of food for a moment. "God. This year. Where did it go?"

"Too big to want knights and princesses?" Tara asked, and reached to help with the lid on the lasagna. "And I have no idea either. Feels like I turned around and, bam, I'm ... basically a senior and you're ... basically done."

Kennedy scrunched up her face in thought for a moment, making a point of reaching out to brush her fingers against the back of Tara's hand as she unpacked plates and plasticware.

"The stories aren't quite what they used to be once you run around actually metaphorical-shining-armor-ing it up, I guess? It was different when I was little. I never wrote 'em down, but I used to make up my own versions in my head? 'course, I was always the knight," she added, grinning, although there was a wistful cast to her expression. "I might remember some of those. Hell, I could tell you a story."

She bit her lip. "And... I haven't shown up in a goofy looking hat, so I'm not technically done yet." Oh, god, could she just refuse to accept her diploma or something?

"Does the hat have to be goofy looking?" Tara wondered. "Maybe they can give you ... a special hat. Something better. And I always want to hear your stories."

[OOC: Gah, sorry. Internet was not being friendly at my house tonight.]

"I think the goofy hat is mandatory," Kennedy said thoughtfully, offering her a bite of lasagna. "Also? Sharp corners, so if I end up having to throw it at something there's that."

She grinned. "Okay. So. Once upon a time there was this little girl who was locked in a dark room all by herself at the top of this big, scary tower. She couldn't leave, 'cause it was dangerous outside and most of the knights in that part of the kingdom were busy with the boring work of negotiating with other kingdoms. And every night after the sun went down there was a locked door inside her room that kept rattling, like there was a monster on the other side of it. Then one day, this young, hot, totally kickass girl knight came back to the tower after a long journey and made her way to the tower, and slayed the mystery baddie."

She paused and held up a finger. "It was a pretty epic battle if I do say so myself. But in the end the kickass girl knight won, the monster was gone... and the little girl she rescued got to go out for ice cream the next day."

Kennedy trailed off, looking sheepish. "Creative writing wasn't really my best subject."

[[no worries! i'm sort of portal 2-ing it up...]]

"I liked the part with the ice cream," Tara said, once she'd swallowed the lasagna. "But if I had made it up, there probably would have been a kitty who was the little girl's only friend."

"Ah, yeah, see." Kennedy gave her a knowing look. "If Jañe-- who's coming to graduation, by the way-- had had a kitty when she was five and afraid of the closet monster, I'd have worked one into the story."

"Jane is coming?" That drew an even bigger smile. "Awwww. I was starting to think she was, y;know, an imaginary little sister. Who's bringing her?"

"My dad," Kennedy answered, "and even if I used to tell people she was imaginary? Definitely not. Oh, and Constance'll be here too, but no surprise there."

"But that's awesome," Tara said, ignoring the terrifying prospect of Kennedy's dad for the moment. "Constance and mini-Kennedy. Anything I should do to get ready?"

"Just be your usual awesome self?" Kennedy suggested. "You can totally handle the sister-unit. She'll love you. In that terrifying nine-year-old way."

Kennedy, of course, thought everyone should.

"... there's a special way nine-year-olds are terrifying?"

Only Tara could look genuinely alarmed by that.

Oh, good, Kennedy. Throw the worrisome hyperbole around without thinking, why don't you?

"...or maybe it's just her," she amended quickly. "Okay, no, I'm kidding. She's a fun kid, she's just... really, really curious. So there might be a lot of questions coming your way."

She grinned, and it was fairly evident that she was looking forward to seeing the kid. "Just a heads-up there."

"I can do questions," Tara nodded. "Just elbow me or kick me under the table if I start babbling and it's getting embarrassing. It'll be fun."

"Tchah. Kick you," Kennedy scoffed lightly. "Like that's gonna happen, and by the way, can I say I'm really relieved I never got the idea to call home when we were six?"

"Is it bad that I kind of wish we'd written the letter about the farm, though?" Tara wondered. "Though, um. The spelling probably would have been really bad."

"The spelling would've been horrible," Kennedy agreed with a laugh; she still had problems with homonyms sometimes. "Dad would've loved the letter. He'd probably have had it framed if it wouldn't weird my stepmom out so much."

"Does he know a little about the weird here?" Tara wondered, curious. "Or ... would he just, y'know, laugh and not ask questions?"

"He knows some of it," Kennedy explained, absently tapping her fork against her lips. "Like, the weird weekends and some of the less freaky invasions. Not so sure he doesn't think I'm blowing some stuff out of proportion, but Dad's had eleven years to get used to my not-so-ordinary life."

After another bite of lasagna she went on, "Also, I think that letter would've been the politest way I ever asked him for anything when I was six." She winked at Tara. "Damn you and your good influence."

"That's me," Tara said with some pride. "If I'd had more than two days I would have had you ... I dunno. Saying please and thank you and not trying to order people around all the time. Though it was sort of adorable how often adults listened."

"I was always good at that," Kennedy answered-- not bragging, just stating a fact. "Well. It was a pretty good technique for getting what I wanted when I was little and everybody thought I was imitating Dad and it was cute. When the cuteness wore off I had to..."

She grinned, but for maybe one of the first times in her life she looked a little abashed about it. "Get more creative."

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Magic Box, Thursday, 4/21

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