Room 218, Thursday Evening, For the last time ever
The boyos were off being ridiculous somewhere, at least if the texts and messages she was receiving were any indication. Karla was rather glad of that, because it gave her a free evening to finish cleaning and packing her dorm. It was hard to believe that her time here was almost over, but as of Saturday, Karla would no longer be a student at Fandom High School.
After so many years of wanting this and waiting for it, Karla found herself sad it had arrived. This island had been her home for four years; she'd made friends, enemies, lovers, and family here. She'd laughed and she'd cried, bitched and moaned, flinched and hid. This place had driven her crazy, transformed her into other people, taken her to different places, even brought the dead back to life. In the end, though, she'd learned more than she ever would have guessed, and come out ahead far more often than she'd come in behind.
And now she was leaving it all behind, going home to an uncertain future of war and bloodshed. The kind of magical 'it will somehow turn out all right' aura that Fandom had wouldn't hold up anymore. The dead would still be dead, and being right was no guarantee of winning.
Maybe she could hide under her extra winter blankets rather than vanishing them away?
Tomorrow, she would pack up the rest of her bedding, bring the frogs she'd gotten from Drake to Dite's, at least for the summer (a warzone was no place for a tankful of frogs, even psychedelic ones named after Dumas' characters), and move the stuff she'd need for the next week or so to Warren's hotel room. Once she was done packing her room up, she was going to curl up on her bed with Nemit, and spend the rest of the night pouring over old photo albums from the past four years.
End of an era and time to say goodbye.
[Establishy. NFI. I just had to make myself good and sad.]
After so many years of wanting this and waiting for it, Karla found herself sad it had arrived. This island had been her home for four years; she'd made friends, enemies, lovers, and family here. She'd laughed and she'd cried, bitched and moaned, flinched and hid. This place had driven her crazy, transformed her into other people, taken her to different places, even brought the dead back to life. In the end, though, she'd learned more than she ever would have guessed, and come out ahead far more often than she'd come in behind.
And now she was leaving it all behind, going home to an uncertain future of war and bloodshed. The kind of magical 'it will somehow turn out all right' aura that Fandom had wouldn't hold up anymore. The dead would still be dead, and being right was no guarantee of winning.
Maybe she could hide under her extra winter blankets rather than vanishing them away?
Tomorrow, she would pack up the rest of her bedding, bring the frogs she'd gotten from Drake to Dite's, at least for the summer (a warzone was no place for a tankful of frogs, even psychedelic ones named after Dumas' characters), and move the stuff she'd need for the next week or so to Warren's hotel room. Once she was done packing her room up, she was going to curl up on her bed with Nemit, and spend the rest of the night pouring over old photo albums from the past four years.
End of an era and time to say goodbye.
[Establishy. NFI. I just had to make myself good and sad.]