fridgetothefire | 059 ☣ i was so much older then

[Spam, throughout]

[After checking in to find that Riddick and Ben were both unaffected and generally able to provide pizzas and sandwiches, she spends most of the flood in a few places: with Peter, minding the little ones who turn up for blanket forts and movies, doing the rounds in the hallways and making sure no one is dancing on the deck railing who can't pull it off, and lastly installed in the Art Room with the door open, supplies set up and the smell of cookies wafting from one table.]

[Video, nowwish/near the end]

I know this has been really strange for a lot of you, but I hope so far you've mostly had a good time, maybe made a friend or seen something new.

Can you believe it's been a couple days already? If there's anyone who might be worried about you, or just someone you want to talk to, now might be a good time to write them a letter.

[She doesn't say parents or family. She doesn't say to talk about their grand adventures, or their fears, or to profess who they miss and love. She figures the kids will know what they need to say most; she just wants to make sure as many of their older selves are stuck with the proof of it as possible. Memories are easier to discount, sometimes.]

If you need any help with writing your messages, or just pens and paper and colors to write with, you can come down to the art room, which is on the second-lowest floor with regular rooms, and the door is open.

[Private to the adults-turned-adolescents she knows of - Dean, Arthas, Aslan, and Sylvanas, and your character too if you think they need the extra push]

You too. I know you can take care of yourselves, but it might mean a lot to someone.

[Even if that someone is not who she is implying.]

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Thanks for the thought, but we'll be leaving soon right? I think I can remember the important parts on my own.

You probably will, yes. But sometimes time is strange between and there.

[All totally true.]

And it couldn't hurt.

Likely not, but what would I say? I had a dream about babysitting a lot of cute children and knocking sense into adolescent boys? It's not exactly scholarly material.

...That's not a bad idea. I mean, writing things down.

[private]

Does it matter if I don't know who I want to write to?

[Oh, Lilith. You lonely, clever little darling. Anya's smile says - quite truthfully - that it's a very bright question, and that she's endeared to Lilith for thinking of it.]

It doesn't matter at all.

If you want to write a letter, I think it'll get to the person who needs it when the time is right.

[This... ...sounds like a terrible idea to someone who is both used to this and absolutely not, and that lurks behind the cocky smirk that Dean is wearing when he replies.]

Has anyone claimed the Crayola yet?

I think I have a sparkly purple one left just for you.

Do I look like a purple kinda guy to you?

Not denying the sparkles, I see.

I happen to be very capable of pulling off glitter.

[Irony: he's not remotely serious, and completely unaware that he's not lying.]

[There are lots of notebooks and things in her room, but - maybe it'll be easier, with someone else there. Maybe she can help her figure out what to say.

So it's not long before she's peering into the art room, cautious and curious.]

Hi there. Jean, right?

[She's not sure where Jean's at with her powers, at this age. But Anya doesn't much want to lie about knowing her in any case.]

[She only hesitates a moment before she nods, stepping through the door.] I've written letters before, but...not about anything like this.

[Steve doesn't have anyone he wants to talk to that's not right here, so he doesn't respond to that. (Well, he does, but his parents are dead and he's too pragmatic to think about writing them letters when he talks to them in his prayers at night.)

But before he ends up too sick to go running around, he does end up at the Art Room - admittedly drawn in by the promise of paper and pencils as much as by the smell of cookies. Although his eyes go a little wide (and just a touch envious) when he spots the latter.] Who are those for? They must be lucky.

Guess it's your lucky day.

[Wait.]

- unless you have allergies.

[Do not lie to her, Rogers. Do not lie to this stare.]

Edited 2014-12-10 15:48 (UTC)

[He starts to brighten - of course, until she stares at him so intently.] Uh - not to food. That I know of.

[Plenty of other things, though. But that means the cookies are safe, right?]

[staaaare okay she relents]

Alright, go on.

[The biggest smile but he manages to look pretty grateful, too.] Thanks, miss. [He reaches for one - but just one, he doesn't want to eat more than his share.] Did you bake them?

Why would I write to people I can see whenever I want?

[ She has enough memories to know that much, at least, but she isn't cruel enough to spoil the fun for the others. ]

Sometimes it's just a nice gesture. Thoughtful, you know?

Nobody writes letters anymore.

[She's a grandma, yep.]

That's 'cause email's faster.

[ She grins like the troll that she is. ]

Too bad about the service out here.

Yeah, I hear the mailman takes forever.

We're on a ship. How will they get the mail?

You act as though these children won't be seeing their families again.

059 ☣ i was so much older then

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