OOM: build and rebuild
Leena's Bed and Breakfast
Unnamed unincorporated settlement
South Dakota
Claudia is totally down with building and rebuilding. She's also very much in favor of 'out with the old, in with the new'; in light of all the changes she's been through in the last few months, that couldn't come at a better time. There's a few things she's been meaning to burn, and a few things that, concerns of Artie flailing about what she did with all that dirt she collected on the Warehouse aside, she feels like she needs to burn.
So after dinner, she goes to her room and digs through her stuff until she finds her backpack - her old one, not her laptop-ready, button-and-patch-covered one.
First, she crams in all of the 'WHERE IS ARTIE NOW?' fun, other than a few maps she thinks she might be able to reuse. That alone almost fills the backpack to bursting - it was designed for fifth-graders, not this kind of work - but it's not the first time she's overloaded it, and it... well. It may or may not be the last.
It's been with her through a lot, after all.
Then she grabs enough of the Rheticus notes to be symbolic (and, incidentally, make it that much harder for anyone else to fill the gaps), any papers she can find with any mention of the psych ward, the essay she got stuck with on her three-day suspension on the importance of not zapping your classmates with handcuffs, even when they clearly dared you to do it...
The last few things take some more digging, but she finds them anyway: A teddy bear that someone at social services gave her in a failed attempt to be comforting. The order of service from her parents' funeral - not the news clipping about the car wreck itself, as she feels the need to keep some record of them. A few of the cards her foster parents gave her.
And last, but not least, she folds up Joshua's obituary (without reading it again) and tucks it into the front pocket.
There. Now all she needs to do is get it out of here and into the bar without raising any eyebrows.
Unnamed unincorporated settlement
South Dakota
Claudia is totally down with building and rebuilding. She's also very much in favor of 'out with the old, in with the new'; in light of all the changes she's been through in the last few months, that couldn't come at a better time. There's a few things she's been meaning to burn, and a few things that, concerns of Artie flailing about what she did with all that dirt she collected on the Warehouse aside, she feels like she needs to burn.
So after dinner, she goes to her room and digs through her stuff until she finds her backpack - her old one, not her laptop-ready, button-and-patch-covered one.
First, she crams in all of the 'WHERE IS ARTIE NOW?' fun, other than a few maps she thinks she might be able to reuse. That alone almost fills the backpack to bursting - it was designed for fifth-graders, not this kind of work - but it's not the first time she's overloaded it, and it... well. It may or may not be the last.
It's been with her through a lot, after all.
Then she grabs enough of the Rheticus notes to be symbolic (and, incidentally, make it that much harder for anyone else to fill the gaps), any papers she can find with any mention of the psych ward, the essay she got stuck with on her three-day suspension on the importance of not zapping your classmates with handcuffs, even when they clearly dared you to do it...
The last few things take some more digging, but she finds them anyway: A teddy bear that someone at social services gave her in a failed attempt to be comforting. The order of service from her parents' funeral - not the news clipping about the car wreck itself, as she feels the need to keep some record of them. A few of the cards her foster parents gave her.
And last, but not least, she folds up Joshua's obituary (without reading it again) and tucks it into the front pocket.
There. Now all she needs to do is get it out of here and into the bar without raising any eyebrows.