“ ── who’s your little friend , hm ? you can’t seriously think i was born yesterday . bringing him here to make me jealous or something … ‘cause i think it’d be easier to just say you miss me . ”
@vanoincidence replied to your post “[pm] I need to talk to you. I [...] have something...”:
[pm] It's a letter. Um, have you [...] talked to Ariadne yet?
[pm] I am just getting in the car. I did. I [...] can't text I need to drive but I want to call or see you soon okay? I [...] It's not happening am sorry
TIMING: Recent
PARTIES: Van @vanoincidence & Daiyu @bountyhaunter
LOCATION: A Sly Slice
SUMMARY: Daiyu is excited to try the pizza burger Emilio recommended. Van doesn't have pizza burgers. High stakes follow.
CONTENT WARNINGS: N/A
Daiyu was very confident as she walked into Sly Slice. She had a mission, after all. A local genius had given her the advice of a lifetime, after all. A pizza joint with a secret menu where she could have her burger needs filled. It had become a little running theme over the past years — going to new towns and discovering the local burger shops. A small little ritual for herself. Though Wicked’s Rest had disappointed her so far with the Knuckle burger, she was willing to give it a second chance.
“Hi!,” she said, stepping up to the counter. Daiyu gave a conspiratorial look as she leaned a little closer. “So I know it says everywhere there are four types of pizza, but I’m here for the … menu on the side, you know?” She winked. This was going great. “I want the burger. Do these also come in the four styles? Because if so … I want the pepperoni burger.” She looked over their shoulder, wondering if someone was listening in. “Is there a certain thing I need to do to unlock it?”
After the events that had transpired in the creamatorium, Van had been on edge. She kept imagining that the man would come back, digging his way out of whatever hell he’d been sent to and hurt her for hurting him. Thea had no clue what had happened to him, but in turn, Van had no idea what had happened to her behind that door. Her skin crawled with anxiety, and the bruises beneath her eyes were more evident– sleep was a risk these days.
But still, the grind never stopped, or whatever overworked millennials said. She swore she’d heard Jade say it once, and though she didn’t really identify with the idea of working herself to death, she did have bills to pay. The winters at Sly Slice were slow enough that she could play on her phone most of the day. Her day had only been filled with a few customers so far, so when an additional one came through, she barely lifted her head.
It was only after she heard the word burger, that she lifted her gaze. Was this woman stupid? She looked so sure of herself. Van’s jaw slackened slightly. She was tired, and she was desperate– not even Honkai Star Rail could distract her. She thought for a moment, to be honest with the woman ahead of her, but then she thought better of it.
“You have to hop on one foot and touch your nose, then say burger, burger, how I want a burger.” She wasn’t sure why it was the first thing she thought of. “Sorry, those are Rocky’s rules.” This was so stupid, she thought– who the hell had told this woman she could get a burger at a pizza shop? They didn’t even carry garlic bread.
The woman behind the till seemed a little bored and tired, but Daiyu didn’t think much more of it. She would also be bored and tired if she had to do this kind of job. (She was, admittedly, often bored and tired in general, but neither of those emotions really ever got her to do something productive to combat it.)
She waited for the revelation and then squinted a little at it, her head turning animatedly. Sure. She could hop on one foot and touch her nose and sing a little song — she wanted her pizza burger, after all. She had her heart set on it and Daiyu had never been one to just let go of such things. Somewhere in the back of her mind – always in the back of her mind – someone chastised her for her stubbornness, for her love for stupidly small things that mattered nothing.
But here and now, she grinned and took a step back. “That’s all?” She lifted her left foot, stretching out her leg and started hopping. Her nose was touched with her right hand, index finger pressed against the tip of it, flattening it slightly. “Burger, burger, how I want a burger!”
Letting go of her nose and putting her foot back down, she inched closer to the counter. “Alright, one of the pizza burgers then, please. And do you do drinks? I’ll take a cherry coke if you do.” Daiyu wondered if maybe she’d made a fool out of herself for nothing. The guy online had also said to bring hay, which had felt a little out there — maybe all of it was bullshit. But it was worth it. For the potential pizza burger.
Van half-expected the woman to throw obscenities her way after suggesting that she dance for food, but to her amazement, the customer was backing up and doing the little song and dance that Van had instructed of her. Most people would have told her to fuck off. Now, she realized she would have to deal with the repercussions of lying. She thought about texting Jade, of asking the older woman to hurry over with a burger so that she could slap some melted cheese and pepperoni onto it, but by the time she thought to reach for her phone, she remembered she no longer had one. The old iPad stared up at her menacingly, the top right corner of its screen chipped.
A surge of guilt washed over Van and she clasped her hands together, thumbs worriedly pushing against the opposing one. “I– there is no pizza burger, there never was a pizza burger, and I figured you’d realize that it was stupid to walk into a pizza shop to ask for a burger, and even more stupid to do a dance for your food.” Van blinked at the brunette, wincing as she remembered the topic of cherry coke. “We uh– no, we don’t do that here. The cherry coke, or regular coke. It’s all off brand, there’s a– uh, a lime one. A lime one is good, do you want the time– I mean lime?”
She was in a good mood. These were always precarious things in Daiyu’s case, however, whose spirits tended to change so easily and quickly. Temperamental — that was how her father always described her, always in a negative manner. Her brother had even less nice words about it, chastising her for that short temper (while setting it alight himself). But she was in a good mood. She was down to dance like a jester and be a little silly, especially because it was for a worthy cause.
The key word was, of course, was. Past tense. Because as the person behind the till started anxiously explaining that there was no pizza burger, Daiyu’s face fell, her arms as well, hanging slack by her body. “What the fuck?” She didn’t appreciate being called stupid at all. “I’m stupid? I just — you know, secret menus exist! Someone told me about that — you should have just told me it didn’t exist, who just lets someone dance for nothing, that’s such bullshit.”
That man must have lied to her online. Her cheeks grew red. She felt toyed with, like she was catching up on someone who would always be wiser and quicker and she’d never, ever be able to catch up. This too was something her brother would chastise her about. Daiyu, come on, catch on already, don’t be so daft. “I’m not stupid,” she bristled, her fingers flexing by her side, trying not to form a fist. She was not stupid and she was not temperamental.
Van winced at the apparent change in demeanor. She knew that she shouldn’t have made her dance, but there was such little joy to be had in her life that Van couldn’t resist. The urge to sink beneath the register and crawl her way out through the back was overwhelming, but the thought of having old cheese stuck to her hands kept her upright.
“Um– no, you’re not stupid, I said that asking for a burger at a pizza place was stupid.” She bit the inside of her cheek, trying to gauge what to say next. “I thought it would be funny! I didn’t think you’d actually do it! I thought you were messing with me!” She wasn’t sure who told this person that there was a burger at Sly Slice, but she had a few guesses (none of them correct– Janice didn’t even live here anymore.)
Van’s hands shook slightly as she clasped them together. The woman really was pissed. “Who told you that? Maybe they’re the stupid one.” She cleared her throat, nervously looking past the customer, willing somebody else to come in so that she could avoid this situation altogether. “I’m sorry I tricked you, but um, we still have the lime drink. It’s fizzy, it’s good.”
It was true, the other hadn’t said that Daiyu was stupid but to her it sounded the same. The insinuation was still there and her mind honed in on that, forgetting all other context and repeated the word over and over. Stupid, stupid, stupid. It was the one word that never failed to make her feel small. And when she felt small, she made herself loud.
“Whatever,” she bit, wanting to storm out or throw something. She didn’t want to talk. She didn’t want her mind to chastise itself in loops. She wanted to de-escalate herself but wasn’t sure how, when the TL-lights shone brightly. She glared at the employee, knowing it was a horrid thing to do to go off at someone who was working such an annoying job and yet the anger tingled in her hands. She kept them by her side, half moons pressing in her palms.
“Someone online, yeah, I– fucking know, don’t believe all you read, don’t even say it,” Daiyu said, snapping at comments that hadn’t been made yet. She felt her ears grow red. Was it shame or rage? It didn’t matter: to her, those two feelings had always been synonymous. She shook her hands out, fingers flailing about. “Sure. Yeah. I’ll try it. Sure. Whatever. So your menu is just those four pizzas? And weird drinks? Okay, yeah.” It was what the menu said. Secret menus, now those were stupid. And lying men online, those too.
Van had seen the same expression in customer’s before the one who stood in front of her now. It looked like she was contemplating something– calling the BBB, maybe. Van had endured a lot of those threats, but none ever came into fruition. What would this woman say? That she wanted a burger, danced for a burger, and then wasn’t given one at a pizza shop? How was that Van’s fault? Or Rocky’s? It just wasn’t.
“I believe a lot of things that I read.” That much was true. She had once convinced herself that Pluto was swallowed by Jupiter because she’d read it on a website. That was before she’d gotten into space and had learned that wasn’t possible, not only because of the way space worked, but because they weren’t within relative distance of each other. “I wouldn’t blame you, but I mean… this is a pizza shop.” She chewed the inside of her cheek, eyes glued to the customer’s face. She looked embarrassed, and Van felt a little guilty.
Van twisted around to look up at the menu board, nodding at the customer’s question. “Yeah, um, Rocky doesn’t like things to get super complicated.” She scraped her teeth over her bottom lip before punching into the register. “I can give it to you on the house? For all of your trouble, I mean.” Really, she’d just take it as her lunch since Rocky allowed her three slices a day for free, unless there was a lot left at the end of the day. That was a new thing. Maybe he saw that she was growing distant from her job.
“The lime is the best, or the cherry one, I swear.”
While one part of her brain was trying to count to ten, another was already mentally writing all the snide comments it would throw at the person who’d lied to her online. That was a crime one wasn’t supposed to just get away with — to get someone all excited about a pizza burger that didn’t even exist. Imagining taking the online stranger down with vicious words helped with her anger at the employee. Daiyu figured it a great way of de-escalation.
“Yeah, me too. You’d think you’d learn but I guess not!” She laughed, but it sounded like a painful noise rather than one of amusement. Daiyu wanted to fall through the earth. She wanted to be able to punch someone through a screen so she could punch the online liar. “I thought maybe there would be a pizza burger. You know? That’s what he said. I thought that was fucking brilliant. Pepperoni burger… man.” She shook her head. “Gonna have to create it myself now.” She’d burn the beef patty.
She had no clue who Rocky was but didn’t want to ask, as she felt stupid enough as it was. “No,” she said in stead, clear-cut and almost angry again, “I can buy my own food. Just … give me both the lime and the cherry. And then a slice of sausage and two pepperoni.” Daiyu sighed. She wanted to rest her head on the counter and groan for three hours and then kick the bin. She started counting again. “Pizza is good. Pizza is just as good as burgers.” She was trying to convince herself of something she knew to be a lie.
“Um, I don’t.. know, I don’t ever learn anything.” Not necessarily untrue, especially because Van always seemed to make the same mistakes, no matter the number of times it was clear she should stop. She clasped her hands together, listening to the customer as she explained further. All Van could do was nod. “Yeah, no, that– that doesn’t exist here. You were lied to, and like, that is so not my fault! And you’re so not stupid for believing it. I think I would, too, if someone told me that.” A pizza burger sounded interesting. Maybe she could convince Jade to help her make one, one day.
Surprisingly enough, this woman didn’t want free pizza. Nobody ever said no to free pizza, especially if they felt like they’d been sleighted. Maybe this woman wasn’t a Karen.
“Uh– lime, cherry, both coming up.” She nodded, grabbing the biggest two cups from their holders, filling them up at the dispenser behind her. There was another one towards the tables, but she figured asking the customer to do anything herself might result in… less than desirable results, especially considering how frustrated she seemed.
After she got the drinks, Van moved onto boxing the slices of pizza before depositing them into a bag. “I… hope you enjoy you not-pizza bur– I mean, your pizza.” She swallowed thickly before sliding the items across the counter. “I’m sorry about the burger. Please don’t give us a negative review, that wasn’t our fault. If you do, um– say my name was Janice, okay?” Even if Janice didn’t work here anymore, Van would still find a way to slander her.
“Haha, me neither,” she said, and it was still said with a laugh even if admitting such a deep truth made Daiyu uncomfortable. She never learned. When was she going to get it through her head? She never learned. It was like there was something blocking actual critical thoughts from entering her brain, that had to be it. Her father’s voice mixed with her own inner one as she chastised herself. She needed to leave. “Maybe I’ll just invent the pepperoni burger myself then and become a billionaire. It’s my idea, okay? Don’t get any ideas.” She didn’t sound half as threatening as she’d like. She was small.
Daiyu watched the employee feel the cups, the sound of the soda clattering in them echoing roughly in her ears. She had half a mind to grab her earplugs or headphones and slam them on, her heightened senses seeming to go in overdrive whenever her anger had left and was replaced with this dull annoyance at everything.
She took the bag with a bit more force than was necessary. “Thanks.” That was stupid. She wasn’t supposed to say thanks. There was another burst of beration flooding her brain. Daiyu offered a smile, but it was crooked, and she gave a glance at the name tag on the employee’s uniform. Not Janice. “Sure. If I write a review, I’ll tear Janice a new one.” She wouldn’t. She might write a review that said there were no pizza burgers, though, so no one else would be lied to. And so that not-Janice wouldn’t have to deal with this shit again, either. She slipped some bills from her wallet, figured it added up to enough (it was more than needed, as she’d later realize) and held up her hand still holding her wallet. “Um. Have a nice day.” And with that she was off, cheeks still burning with anger and somehow worse to her: shame.
TIMING: Recent
PARTIES: Van @vanoincidence and Samir @razorsharpteeth
LOCATION: WR Community center
SUMMARY: Van and Samir hang out after a cooking class he taught, which soon turns on its head as Van grows anxious and accidents occur.
CONTENT WARNINGS: N/A
The cooking classes were his favorite. Samir was a simple man: he liked doing things he was good at. He liked sharing the knowledge of things he was good at. During the cooking classes, he’d share a few funny stories from back in the day, when he’d cooked for the tourists in Florida. Of working in a real restaurant’s kitchen, and how mistakes were not as permitted there as they were in his class.
Most of the people that came were the same old. This, he didn’t mind. It was a steady beat. They oohed and aahed at his knife technique and asked him questions for at-home cooking. Now, with the class done, there were a few stragglers, like mrs Selic who was wondering what she was supposed to do about her daughter’s girlfriend ‘who was a vegetarian, and it’s all so much to get used to’. Samir patiently pointed her to some recipe sites, as well as the beyond meat stuff in the grocery aisle and watched her go on her merry way.
Now came the cleaning. Samir also didn’t mind this: it was different from cleaning his own mess. It was something more satisfying. He was about to start piling all the cutlery into one pot when his eyes fell on one of the people from the class. A tiny thing, which explained why he’d missed her. Or maybe it was just the full moon around the corner. “Hey,” he said. “Van … right? Not like the car? Can I help you with something?”
Van wasn’t sure what she was thinking, taking a cooking class. Of all places she shouldn’t have been, a public kitchen was definitely one of them. Her nerves were hard to shake, even after the class had concluded. She had tried her best to listen to Samir’s stories, had tried to get lost in them, even. But the thought of somewhere else only brought her back to the reality of her situation.
Even if she was in community here, at a literal community center, she still felt alone. Her thoughts broke as Samir approached. Her gaze snapped up to meet his and she opened her mouth to respond, to give him thanks, or maybe something else– to say that she was glad she came today, but it was locked beneath her tongue.
“Not like the car, yeah.” At least he had remembered. Van wasn’t sure where that came from these days, it was just something she reminded people. “Um…” She looked around her station. She had tried to tidy it as much as possible. The empty plate of what they made sat with the fork and knife hanging over each other in some dangerous balancing act. “It was good. The class was good.” That was right, right?
The community center was a saving grace. Samir had always felt this incessant need to be useful, to have at least some kind of purpose. It was something born out of trauma, but he lacked the insight to understand that — and so he just moved through the world like this. Searching for small purposes. Volunteering to help his colleague move. Working in a kitchen, where he could make people happy with the food. Fulfilling tasks here, in this community center.
It was a balancing of scales. He didn’t delude himself into thinking he was a good man: he was just a man, who was also a monster. A trail of blood had followed him to Maine. No matter how many old people he helped or how many cooking classes he taught, there’d always be those ghosts. He would never be good — but he could at least try to put some good into the world.
So he smiled at the semi-stranger. “You can leave it as is, it’s fine. I’ll clean everything. Don’t mind.” With the full moon looming and the Pit promoting his oncoming fights more than usual, he liked the menial tasks as distraction. Samir shrugged. “Thanks. I try to keep ‘em exciting. Cooking’s an important skill, you know? If you have any requests on what you’d like to learn to cook for a future class, just let me know.”
“Are you sure?” Van had been taught to clean up after herself, and even if that lesson had gone over her head in recent years with her grandma’s departure back to New York, that didn’t mean she left other places a mess. Unless it was Sly Slice, but only when Janice was working there. Now, she had no excuse but to clean up after herself.
He seemed sure, but she still felt bad. She looked around him, gaze sliding over the different components of the kitchenette. She hadn’t realized it existed until a few weeks ago, too lost in her own head to really venture out into the unknown. Van bit the inside of her cheek and nodded at his comment. “You sound like my–” My what, she thought. She didn’t have anything, and nothing had her. All she had was herself, and maybe her friends, but she was slowly turning them away as the days went by.
“Friend. Who likes to cook.” Van scrunched her nose before sticking her hands into the pockets of her too-baggy jeans. “Do you always teach them? Or do you like, take volunteers?”
“Sure. Unless you’re a superfan of cleaning, don’t wanna keep you from your hobby and all.” He said it as if it was an outlandish thing, as liking to clean was a rare characteristic. Samir wasn’t going to forbid her from helping out, though. He didn’t have the energy to do so. He even mustered a little smile.
He smiled a little further at the rest of her words, “It’s good to have friends who know how to cook. Nothing like sharing a meal, huh?” He said those words and he meant them, but they were removed from him and his current reality. Samir didn’t cook for people any more, especially not friends. Sometimes he did some mise en place at local restaurants that were short staffed, but that hardly counted. There seemed little room for him to speak his love languages.
“Sometimes it’s me. There’s another woman, too, she’s brilliant. Monica.” Cursed with a shitty name, though. “Why, do you want to be the teacher? Or …” Samir frowned a little. “Was it not to your liking?”
“A superfan…?” She blinked before shaking her head. “No, I’m not, I just–” Van thought for a moment, brows furrowed, “wanted to help out.” She made a mess of pretty much everything in her own house– outside, things were clean. Outside, she could pretend to take care of herself.
At his comment, she nodded. If she hadn't lied, she’d be able to hold onto it. Van had lost her community the day her grandmother left Wicked’s Rest. The ladies who played mahjong, the man who would give her discounted fruits at the grocery… they looked at her now as if they’d never known her at all. She wondered what kinds of things her grandma had said on her exit.
“Oh, that’s cool.” She didn’t know anyone named Monica. At his question, she shook her head. “What? No. No, I don’t–” Van cleared her throat, “I was just– small talk. That’s what people call it, right?” She’d made it tons of times, knew it like the back of her hand. The things she could avoid with small talk, to keep things busy. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. I didn’t want to–” Van shook her head and rubbed her hands together. “It was cool, I swear, I just… I was wondering is all.” She wasn’t sure why this out of everything had catapulted her into the throws of anxiety, but it had.
“Ah,” he said. That made more sense. “I mean, you’re welcome to. Really. Just don’t feel obligated to!” Samir wasn’t really sure if he was helping or worsening the situation, or if he was imagining a problem. He just didn’t want the younger woman to feel like she had to.
Now he had said the wrong thing. He watched Van stumble over her words and felt his stomach sink — he’d felt so good about the lesson, about giving people some properly helpful tips when it came to cooking. For a moment, he’d felt like a tolerable person, rather than whatever he made of himself when his thoughts were dark and stormy. And here he was, anyway, making a mess of things.
“Shit, no, you didn’t offend me. I was just wondering, just wanted to be sure it was all good, you know.” He tried to keep his face clear and calm, tried to think of managing his younger siblings or even the rascals that came in here. “Just small talk. It’s fair to wonder. You’re okay, I’m glad you liked it.”
She was regretting leaving her house now. Van cleared her throat, feeling the tips of her fingers beginning to grow clammy with the unprovoked anxiety that swarmed her. She wasn’t sure why this situation had triggered her. She could feel his gaze under her skin, could pick out all of the things she was saying wrong, the way he almost seemed confused.
But he was explaining that she hadn’t offended him, but it didn’t make sense, because he had said it in his own words, was it not to your liking? “All good, yeah.” Her throat felt dry. She should go home. Yeah, she should definitely–
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that the instructor’s boots had begun to melt to the floor. There was no heat signature, and there was no smell– it was just goop. Shit, shit, shit. Van looked up at Samir– that was his name, desperately. “I– I didn’t do that.” But she had, and she knew she had.
He’d done or said something wrong. That happened often, as Samir wasn’t the best communicator. He tried to be patient and open, to think along with the people he spoke to and offer them grace. But he was clumsy and tired and sometimes simply an asshole, but this time he’d really tried. And yet.
He felt frustrated with himself as he looked at the young woman, but then his attention was diverted by a strange sensation at his feet. Looking down, the cause of that feeling was very clear: there his shoes went, growing liquid around his socks. “Uh.”
That there was more out there besides werewolves had grown abundantly and horribly clear to him the months since he’d become employed by the Grit Pit. But he hadn’t seen this before. He looked back to Van. “It doesn’t — It’s not hurting?” He didn’t know science very well, but shouldn’t this hurt? What else could make leather act that way. He raised a leg and his shoe dripped from his feet, all sticky and gooey. “What the fuck?”
It’s not hurting?
That was good, at least. Van wasn’t sure what it felt like, mostly because her abilities typically tapped into melting actual objects, never any living creature. She opened her mouth to speak, but snapped it shut almost immediately. She wasn’t sure what to do. She was only here for a stupid cooking class.
Van glanced down to his boot, watching as the plastic and rubber became some kind of goopy mixture, dripping back down onto the linoleum. Her gaze cut back up to meet his, eyebrows pinched together as apologies began to build themselves up at the back of her throat.
“I– it doesn’t hurt.” It wasn’t happening to her, so clearly he’d put two and two together, right? “That’s good.” The words left her before she could stop them and she was already taking a step back, stumbling towards the closest exit. “I didn’t– I didn’t mean to do it, I didn’t do that.” She had already practically admitted it was her. “I’m sorry!” Van gasped out as she turned, running away from another mess she’d created.
The plan had been to clean up behind him and then make his way home, take out Cleo for a long, long walk on the beach and think of nothing but the crashing waves. But as he stared at his boots, the way they were growing sticky and fluid around his socks, he had a feeling it would not be that easy. Samir blinked back up at Van.
“It’s not …” Good? Your fault? A problem? He was dumbfounded, not sure how to answer this, what to say to her suddenly insisting that she didn’t mean to, implying that she had done it. Somehow. Though Samir knew there was magic in the world, he didn’t understand it, and would never claim to.
“Hey, no – wait!” His voice echoed after her, and Samir attempted to run after her — wanting maybe an explanation, or at least a solution. Or to tell her it was okay, but that she couldn’t just run off! (Even if that was what he had done, every time his inner wolf had covered himself in blood once more and killed more than just an animal.) As he tried to lift his feet to chase her though, he found himself slowed by the melted boots and did something he’d prefer not to admit.
He tripped, falling on the kitchen floor and looking at Van’s disappearing feet, somehow feeling like this too was his fault.
PARTIES: Van @vanoincidence & Inge
LOCATION: A park.
TIMING: 15 june.
CONTENT WARNINGS: None.
SUMMARY: A dog didn't like Inge's mare-ish vibes and chased her into a tree. Van bares witness and tries to help a little, but she's pretty exhausted and mostly amused.
The string of curses that left Inge’s mouth was a combination of English and Dutch and somehow some third language, too. It was hardly like she was occupied with the linguistic nature of her cursing, though, as she was at present being chased by a massive dog. The creature seemed to have gone rabid from its unease and saw it fit to yank free from its owner and start sprinting, flashing its shiny teeth.
Now, it wasn’t like she was afraid. Ingeborg Endeman created fear, invented trauma and terrified for a living, so she did not get scared. She was just worried about the very real threat of this dog burrowing its teeth in her leg and revealing a lack of red blood, as well as its teeth ruining her delicate decades-old skirt. She didn’t mind a scene, but she would mind one like that. And so she ran, heeled leather boots hitting the ground.
It would be perfect if a storefront appeared on either side, but the park offered little places of shelter. There was nowhere to go but up. So up Inge went, clambering into a tree with haste, watching as the dog jumped up and down, trying to nip at her feet. When her eyes fell on a passerby she yelled: “Hey, you! Help!” She was not afraid, please remember that.
Van stuck the straw from her drink into her mouth, jabbing down at the leftover tapioca pearls at the bottom. They were a little too squishy to go through the straw now, so it was a stab and jab kind of deal. Once she’d gotten one, she let go of the straw from her mouth and pulled it out through the small hole she’d poked through the plastic, biting off the pearl. She wasn’t normally a taro kind of girl, and it never tasted right, but she’d been in the mood for something purple to match her outfit. Except she’d sucked down the entire drink within ten minutes and now she was at the beginning of a tummy ache. “Should have gotten it with soy.” She frowned as she found a trashcan to throw the near empty cup into.
The sound of a dog barking made her look up, exhaustion evident beneath her eyes. The dog was chasing somebody and that… somebody was climbing up a tree. Suddenly, Van was amused. It was like something straight out of a cartoon. Maybe if she’d been a little less tired, she would have been more concerned.
The woman began to shout, and with Van being the only one in the vicinity, she assumed that it was she who was being beckoned. “Me?” She pointed at herself with her index finger, then looked at the dog, its front paws scratching into the tree trunk while its jaws snapped wildly, spit flying from its jowls. “What did you do to him?” Because he wasn’t reacting to her, which meant that the brunette in the tree had done something. “Did you pretend to give him a treat and take it away? Is it your dog?”
Give it a few days, perhaps even one of them, and Inge would laugh at this. It would be a moment to look back at fondly, to potentially recount when she met someone new and wanted to exchange exciting anecdotes. In the moment, however, she was nothing if not agitated. She was too unfocused and frazzled and in public to elevate her spirit and body into the astral plane and this entire ordeal was bound to become the source of at least some public ridicule. She really hoped no teenager was filming this. Or worse, a student.
The dog kept snapping and barking, tireless in its stupid rage and ferocity. If she wasn’t so annoyed, she’d pay a little more attention and focus on the details of that jaw snapping, the spit flying. Instead, it was just the young woman she was trying to get her to help that she focused on.
“I did nothing!” The words were exclaimed, her voice an octave higher than she had intended for it to be. “Not my dog either. Its owner has to be fucking somewhere, but it just must’ve whiffed something and —” Inge’s hands pointed wildly at the dog before grabbing the branch she was sitting on again, making sure not to lose her balance. Now that would be even worse. “Can you, I don’t know, throw a stick? Find its owner?”
The woman’s voice was shrill, full of desperation for somebody to believe her. Van had been there before many times. Only, not in public. She looked at the dog as it continued snapping its jaws, tail low to the ground, ears peeled back. Whatever it saw in the woman, it didn’t like it. At the woman’s suggestion she do something, Van sighed. “Yeah, sure.” She looked over her shoulder, tired gaze sweeping the green behind them, but there was nobody looking slightly upset that their dog was up a tree. Instead, all either she or the other woman gained were stares.
“I don’t think they’re owner is here and like, I don’t… want to get bit.” Van tried her best to get the dog’s attention by clapping her hands together, but it did nothing. She had some of her slim jim left, the plastic folded over itself to keep it from getting fuzz from her backpack on it. “Hold on.” She dug it out and unwrapped it. “Dude, I hope you’re not on a diet.” She waved the meat stick around, but the dog didn’t even look in her direction. Van looked up at the woman in the tree with a helpless expression. “Any other ideas? You a cat person or something?” If she weren’t so tired, maybe she’d take the situation more seriously. Anxiety, for once, was on the backburner.
She really wasn’t afraid. Of course, it was easy to claim such a thing when you lacked the flow of blood of mortals and your heart didn’t tend to start pumping excitedly. When you had seen terror in its purest form and caused it. Inge refused to be afraid, even if her voice jumped higher and there was an edge of panic to it. No, this was nothing but pure frustration. Her own gaze drifted over their surroundings, trying to find whatever idiot owned a dog this aggressive, but finding nothing.
“Their owner is a shit, then.” It was fair enough that the other didn’t want to get bit, but Ingeborg found she couldn’t care as much as she perhaps ought to. Her eyes were hopeful when the other waved a meat-stick around, but the dog didn’t budge. Inge steadied herself on the branch she was perched on, breaking off a stick and tossing it down. Hitting the dog on the face did nothing if not infuriate it more. “Yes, sure, I’m a cat-person, but that doesn’t warrant this kind of response, does it?” She was a plant-person, actually, but this could already look suspicious enough for someone in the know of mares. She let out a bark of laughter, ironically. “Fuck! I mean, that’s hardly on you, sorry. But can you believe this?”
Van made sure to keep her distance from the dog, just in case it decided to turn and chase her instead. She really wasn’t sure what had happened to make the dog so upset in the first place, but she wasn’t sure that she believed the woman in the tree had done nothing to elicit this kind of response from it.
As the woman broke off a stick from the tree, Van winced, watching it fall down to the ground, but not before smacking the poor animal in the face. Honestly, it probably didn’t hurt very much at all, but she couldn’t help but understand the dog’s rage a little better. The woman spoke again and Van lifted her gaze up to meet the brunette. “Maybe it can sense that you don’t like dogs. Dogs are like, weirdly in tune with that kind of shit.” With a sigh, she looked over her shoulder, scanning for anybody who might be upset that their dog was off leash and barking at some random woman. Still, nobody came into view. “I’m not sure what I believe anymore.” There was some truth to her words, but they weren’t meant for this situation. “I mean..” Van cleared her throat, pausing only momentarily, “do you have any snacks in your pockets? Maybe it wants those.”
Maybe this was her own fault, for having called out to the stranger. But what was a panicked mare to do? She could have tried to remain calm and wait for the area to clear so she could go into the astral plane and back home, but in stead here she was. Attention on her. The dog still fucking barking. Inge was starting to get a headache.
“Yes, maybe that’s it,” she said, knowing full well that that was it. Sanne had explained it to her, all those years ago: animals don’t like us, they think there’s something wrong with us. It had been a nightmare to walk around her hometown, with all the cattle and other animals. Inge patted down her jacket, which did have multiple pockets of which she didn’t always remember the content. “Just chocolates, don’t think I should poison the thing, right?” No, she had little interest in that. Despite her tendency to scare the bejeezus out of people who others might consider innocents, she had little interest in harming animals. Hell, she didn’t even eat them. Just as she was about to open her mouth, a stout man ran in their direction, a leash swinging in the air, apologies falling off his tongue.
“Sorry, sorry, don’t know what got into her, this never happens!” He did look genuinely apologetic. Inge didn’t care. If he couldn’t handle a big dog, he shouldn’t have gotten one. The dog’s head turned at the sound of his voice, though, and that, at least, was something good. “Come here, girl, come to dad.” It took all her might not to gag at that.
“No, I don’t think so.” Van’s frown deepened as she craned her neck to get a better look at the woman in the tree. It didn’t seem like she was carrying any bundles of salami, either. She’d seen it in a cartoon once. Van was silently grateful that it hadn’t been her up in the tree. What would she have done? Would anyone have stopped?
Just as Van was about to suggest that the woman get out of the tree to try and pet the dog to show it that she was kind, a man jogged up to them. Van turned around to look at him, his expression melding from fearful to relieved. The dog turned around at the sound of his voice and let out a high pitched whine before returning its attention to the brunette in the tree. The barking had stopped, at least.
“Can you get your dog? She’s stuck.” Van’s voice came out a little more monotone than intended. The exhaustion really was catching up to her. The man nodded, desperate in his movements as he approached the dog, picking her up without issue. If Van had tried that, she had no doubt that she’d have gotten bit. The man apologized again before he began to coo to the dog who was wiggling in his arms.
At least the man was strong enough to carry his stupidly big dog himself. Inge watched him from where she sat in the tree, eyes near-blazing with indignation now that her panic was subsiding. “You should really get a stronger leash, or one with a stronger grip, you know! This is outrageous. Look at me!” She gestured at her position in the three. It was his fault, really, and not hers. How could she help it that her nature upset animals?
“I really am sorry, you’re right — but please understand, it’s never happened before, I’m telling you, I have no idea — well, I’ll just get out of your hair and get her out of here, alright? So sorry.”
She watched him try and traipse off, the dog struggling in his arms but at least on his leash again, now. Inge stared at his back, hard, but eventually tried to let go of her frustration and focus on getting out of the tree. At least her limbs were still as nimble as they had been when she was thirty three, because if she’d had to do this in an actual 77 year old’s body, she would have been majorly fucked. Still, there was a lack of some grace as she jumped from the last bit of the tree.
“Well.” She looked at the other. “I appreciate you not laughing at me.” She really did, though she did think that in a few months - or perhaps years - she would be laughing about this herself. “I really thought it would never leave me alone and I’d just have to sleep there.” Inge wanted to get away from this horridly embarrassing scene. She tried to pat her hair, wondered if there was a stick in there. “Right.”
Van couldn’t blame the woman in the tree for talking sternly to the man with the wiggling dog. Even as he walked away with it, it still barked and let out high pitched whines that made her ears hurt.
She watched with mild amusement as the brunette slid out of the tree, half-expecting her to scrape her backside on a rogue branch. She didn’t, however, and her feet were firmly planted on the ground. Van watched her for a moment before shrugging. “It would have been funnier if the dog had been smaller.” With a raised brow, Van tilted her head to the side. “You would have actually slept up there? Really?” She looked back up at the tree and shook her head. “At that point, let the dog bite you. Think about the bugs that could have gotten you instead.” She scrunched her nose.
Van took a small step away from the woman and shoved the beef stick into her pocket (something she’d started doing in an attempt to mirror Nora), and let out a small breath. “I’m just glad it didn’t turn on me. Then we’d both be stuck up there.”
Inge tried to look at her backside, trying to gauge if there was any green stuck to her trousers but unable to get very far. She still tried beating some off the dirt off regardless, having given up on trying to seem like a graceful person. Tomorrow she’d try again.
“I wouldn’t have had to climb as high if it was a smaller dog, too. But its barks would’ve been much more grating, so.” She let out a sound of amusement and frustration, somehow conveying both emotions into one. “God, maybe I would have. I’d prefer some bugs over potential rabies.” Besides, there wasn’t really any blood for mosquitos to suck from her veins anyway. What she left unsaid was that she’d just have astral projected herself home.
“Either way, nice of you to stick around and not let me sort-of-fight this battle alone. And fair enough, I wouldn’t wish being stuck in a tree as a dog barks up to it to my worst enemy.” She absolutely would. “Anyway. I’m running late to my appointment as is, so I really should go. Have a nice day without any other feral dogs, will you?”
