Return letter delivered with Fluffers, who is still wearing a tiny blue tielikeabadpennySeptember 6 2007, 10:39:52 UTC
Claire,
Hufflepuff, huh? Yellow and black is better than the colors in my house. Seriously, green and silver. I'd prefer bumblebee spew than... yeah I can't even think of a proper metaphor to describe the horror that is green and silver.
Oh god, hahahaha There's a problem with our tent right now. You might have to hold off a visit until everything's safe. ...Giant cockroaches, it's nasty. I can meet you somewhere else, though?
Return letter with an owl - Fluffers is SO being pampered right nowms_miracle_growSeptember 6 2007, 10:46:39 UTC
Peter,
Dragon poo? Although green is better than yellow, come on. There are, like, four people on the face of the planet who can pull off yellow, and Beyonce I am not.
Okay, you...do realize I'm A) not buying that and B) totally not a china doll, right? Seriously, I'm coming down to your tent. I don't care if it's messy or whatever. I do have a younger brother. I know the grossness that is a boy's room. It's cool.
&hearts Claire
P.S. Is this the meerkat?! He's so cute. He's also totally being held for ransom - I'll bring him down with me when I come. See your tent. Where you live. ;)
Reply with the same owl; the poor creature looks like Peter flailed at itlikeabadpennySeptember 6 2007, 10:58:46 UTC
Claire,
And even fewer who can pull off this shade of emerald green and tin-can silver. Trust me. At least your dorms aren't dungeons.
Seriously, cockroaches. Giant ones. And my room isn't gross, I do know how to tidy - it's a wisdom that comes with age. ...Cockroaches. And earlier, our pipes burst, so everything is soggy and wet. Mold grew really quickly. Also, the tent burned to the ground, so there's actually nothing to see. And then Godzilla stomped on the remains- no maybe that's too much-
Anywhere else is good with me.
- Peter
P.S. Yeah, that's him. His name is Charles Fluffers. Just don't feed him lots of muffins, he'll outgrow us all and then go stomp Tokyo.
Owl returns, looking calmer - Claire gave it some muffinms_miracle_growSeptember 6 2007, 11:10:14 UTC
Peter,
On my way!
&hearts Claire
---
Hey, like she was going to believe any of that. She was promised tent time, dang it! Also, Claire was a bit overwhelmed with the whole 'magic castle, moving staircases, portraits that talk' thing. Visiting Peter seemed a nice little bout of normalcy. Or at least as normal as Claire got.
Charles Fluffers was a great help, running along before Claire, circling back to snuff at her shoes, and generally leading her in the right direction. She was dressed fairlysimply, hair pulled back low on her neck; there was pretty much no way she was wearing the low-budget porno uniform she'd found in her room. And come on - robes? Seriously?
With the meerkat's help, Claire was soon standing outside of tent 31. No signs of fire, flood, or giant cockroaches anywhere. Knocking once on the door, Claire waited, arms folded, amused quirk in her lips. Peter was such a bad liar.
Claire obviously wasn't in her room anymore, if the bounced letter was any indication. It had been a good one, too.
---
Claire,
DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT I'm warning you Can we do this another time? Please?
- Peter
---
Not that it would have stopped Claire, she seemed to be fairly determined to get her way in tent visiting time. Peter had spent a frantic five minutes running around and cleaning everything up, but that wasn't the real issue. The issue was that Rachel, now a vampire, hadn't been back to the tent for a while. Peter was getting worried, damn it, not to mention increasingly scared that she was actually out killing people
( ... )
"No thanks to you," Claire said lightly, though her smile faded somewhat as she looked at Peter. Something was...wrong. Scooping up Fluffers, Claire brushed into the tent past Peter, squeezing his arm as she went. "I think Fluff is thirsty, but I didn't have anything to drink in my room," she said.
Claude - who had not been following Claire around, standing guard outside her room, and he'd hit anyone who suggested he was protecting Noah Bennet's little girl - also followed past Peter. Of course invisible, and of course completely able to be seen by Peter, he just gave the other man a look. He was not up to meeting anyone. Just here to do a job. If Peter gave him away, he'd just leave.
Claire was looking around the tent, a tiny smile of awe on her face. "It's bigger than the outside," she commented, turning back to Peter. "That's...really cool."
Fluffers squirmed down to land on the counter, chittering at Peter. "Where's Rachel?" Claire's lips tipped further into a grin. "I was promised leather pants."
That Claude was being invisible clearly meant that he didn't want Claire to see him, but Peter beamed a bright grin at him anyway, a little too hopeful and happy to see the invisible man. He couldn't help it - as cantankerous and grumpy as Claude was, Peter missed having him around. Missed having any human company around, really
( ... )
Claude did a quick sweep of the house, hands jammed in his pockets, before nodding curtly to Peter and walking outside again, ostensibly to keep watch. Or just nap by the pool. Peter could take over for a bit
( ... )
And Claude was gone again. Peter shoved his hands into his pockets, fighting to keep a disappointed frown off his face. The fact that Claire was here made it a lot easier.
"You'd be my hero if you threw out everything that isn't salvageable," he grinned. He loved Rachel, he honestly did, but her clothing left a lot to be desired, and left practically nothing to the imagination. Not really the kind of look that Peter liked; not that he was superficial enough to let that drive him away, but a better wardrobe would be a plus. "I keep trying to subtly push her towards nicer clothes, but she never listens. Maybe it's because I'm a guy. Oh, and her bedroom's over there, through that door," Peter tilted his chin towards the bedroom door - their bedroom, it's not like they really had an option of two bedrooms when this thing happened
( ... )
"Hey, if she's my Aunt now," Claire said, grinning lightly, "the least I can do is take her shopping, right?" And Claire was Texan - she could sweet talk with the best of them. Heading up into Rachel's room, she looked back over her shoulder. "Oh, a beer would be great!"
Totally not laughing at him at all.
"Come help me," she requested. "I need something else to do besides," worry over her bio-dad, replay her conversation with Sylar, obsess about whether or not she was good enough for what she wanted to do, "think."
The room was obviously lived in by the both of them, which... Yeah, come to think of it, they were married, so that made sense. "Did you know the freaking paintings move?" she asked Peter as she pulled open Rachel's side of the closet. "I almost had a heart attack when some guy on a horse followed me to my dorm room."
Wrinkling her nose, Claire pulled out a halter top. "Who wears stuff like this?" It was a mystery. "She seemed normal enough - why does she buy clothes like this?" So much leather in the closet
( ... )
"People all used up inside." Maybe I'd come back to the tent because I needed to change and maybe for a shower and maybe I just kind of got lost on my way back from Gryffindor and wound up outside. It was hard to tell. "People who are only good for one thing so they have to wrap themselves in it to even have an identity. Masks made of leather and lace and cheap knock-off silk."
My heels had made no noise as I had walked inside; my entire body was held, hovering, just this side of pulling an aura. Muscles held in tense stillness, eyes almost fully black, my head was tilted to the side, studying them, with my hair spilling over my shoulder. "You're bright on the inside." Her aura almost hurt my head, until I realized I had opened my second sight again by accident. Closing it again required effort - by all rights I shouldn't still be able to use that and I wasn't quite sure if it was real or just my fevered mind filling in blanks where I expected there to be substance.
Hungry. So hungry that I couldn't remember not being that
( ... )
Retrieving two bottles from the fridge - a light beer, practically nothing on the alcohol scale, he didn't want to get in trouble with the Bennets - Peter followed Claire to the bedroom and handed one to her. "You're only getting one, and you're staying here long enough to make it seem like it never happened," he winked conspiratorially at his niece. He liked playing the crazy uncle, it was fun.
"And yeah, the paintings are pretty crazy," he agreed, popping the cap off his beer. "I saw this one of a guy with no head, and he kept laughing at me and following me from painting to painting. He was weird." Peter honestly couldn't answer Claire's questions about Rachel's clothes. Well, he could, in that he supposed Rachel dressed that way because it was the only way she felt good about herself, but... yeah. No good answers, there
( ... )
Hey, awesome! Taking the beer with a grin, Claire raised one hand in oath. "My lips are sealed." She pulled a small drink, browsing more through the horror show of clothes in Rachel's closet. "I'm beginning to think that this place is going to make me feel really normal," she laughed a little, shortly. Talking, walking paintings? Definitely weirder than a girl who could regrow her kidney, right
( ... )
She wasn't afraid. The golden girl with the aura so bright that it made me wince wasn't afraid and I took a deep breath, calming down. Fear would trigger me, but she wasn't, so it was okay. Right? It was okay? It was going to be okay?
Peter's harshness made me cringe, shying back for a second. "I know, I told you, over and over and you said it was okay but now it's not and I know."
Claire's hand landed on my arm and I jerked back sharply, eyes going wide. "No." I laughed, then, a wild chuckle that sounded like broken glass falling down a mountain in a rainstorm and oh, God, was this what it felt like to be crazy? "No, I don't think I ever have been. Except once, but I can't remember his name. He shone, though, all blue. But I can't see him anymore. I think I broke it."
My eyes went to Peter's, pleading with him to understand. "I think I'm lost. Could you tell me where I need to go?" Licking my dry lips, hands trembling, I felt like I should remember something. Like this thing that I couldn't reach was important
( ... )
Peter just hung back, his arms folded over his chest and a deep frown on his face. If Rachel started attacking, he would be fast enough to stop it. But that didn't mean he was going to make nice with Rachel right now. His side was automatically the side that needed the most help, and right now, that was Claire.
...Until Rachel seemed to regain a few of her senses. Peter promptly forgot all about sides.
With a low sigh, he started forward and wrapped his arm around Rachel's shoulders, leading her out into the living room. Ivy had told him that bedrooms, with their beds and their intermingled scents, weren't great places for non-practicing vampires. Not that the living room was any better. "Hey," Peter gently cupped Rachel's face, uncaring that Claire might be watching. "You okay?" Silent for a moment, he simply watched her, concerned. It was obvious that she was still a vampire, but he felt he could handle it if she started craving blood again. "Where did you go? I was worried."
Claire hung back. Something was definitely wrong, major weird wrong, and it felt like a family problem. So she contented herself with going through Rachel's closet and dear God did this woman have anything that wasn't skin tight or leather? Yeah, the whole wardrobe was going to have to start from scratch.
Giving up on that, she grabbed a pair of worn jeans, a tank top, and a hoodie from a drawer full of the things the Rachel obviously didn't wear out in public. Slipping out, she laid them on a chair - Rachel would probably feel better once she wasn't dressed like a hooker - then went into the kitchen to make some tea. Tea was soothing, right?
Hufflepuff, huh? Yellow and black is better than the colors in my house. Seriously, green and silver. I'd prefer bumblebee spew than... yeah I can't even think of a proper metaphor to describe the horror that is green and silver.
Oh god, hahahaha There's a problem with our tent right now. You might have to hold off a visit until everything's safe. ...Giant cockroaches, it's nasty. I can meet you somewhere else, though?
- Peter
Reply
Dragon poo? Although green is better than yellow, come on. There are, like, four people on the face of the planet who can pull off yellow, and Beyonce I am not.
Okay, you...do realize I'm A) not buying that and B) totally not a china doll, right? Seriously, I'm coming down to your tent. I don't care if it's messy or whatever. I do have a younger brother. I know the grossness that is a boy's room. It's cool.
&hearts
Claire
P.S. Is this the meerkat?! He's so cute. He's also totally being held for ransom - I'll bring him down with me when I come. See your tent. Where you live. ;)
Reply
And even fewer who can pull off this shade of emerald green and tin-can silver. Trust me. At least your dorms aren't dungeons.
Seriously, cockroaches. Giant ones. And my room isn't gross, I do know how to tidy - it's a wisdom that comes with age. ...Cockroaches. And earlier, our pipes burst, so everything is soggy and wet. Mold grew really quickly. Also, the tent burned to the ground, so there's actually nothing to see. And then Godzilla stomped on the remains- no maybe that's too much-
Anywhere else is good with me.
- Peter
P.S. Yeah, that's him. His name is Charles Fluffers. Just don't feed him lots of muffins, he'll outgrow us all and then go stomp Tokyo.
Reply
On my way!
&hearts
Claire
---
Hey, like she was going to believe any of that. She was promised tent time, dang it! Also, Claire was a bit overwhelmed with the whole 'magic castle, moving staircases, portraits that talk' thing. Visiting Peter seemed a nice little bout of normalcy. Or at least as normal as Claire got.
Charles Fluffers was a great help, running along before Claire, circling back to snuff at her shoes, and generally leading her in the right direction. She was dressed fairly simply, hair pulled back low on her neck; there was pretty much no way she was wearing the low-budget porno uniform she'd found in her room. And come on - robes? Seriously?
With the meerkat's help, Claire was soon standing outside of tent 31. No signs of fire, flood, or giant cockroaches anywhere. Knocking once on the door, Claire waited, arms folded, amused quirk in her lips. Peter was such a bad liar.
Reply
---
Claire,
DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT I'm warning you Can we do this another time? Please?
- Peter
---
Not that it would have stopped Claire, she seemed to be fairly determined to get her way in tent visiting time. Peter had spent a frantic five minutes running around and cleaning everything up, but that wasn't the real issue. The issue was that Rachel, now a vampire, hadn't been back to the tent for a while. Peter was getting worried, damn it, not to mention increasingly scared that she was actually out killing people ( ... )
Reply
Claude - who had not been following Claire around, standing guard outside her room, and he'd hit anyone who suggested he was protecting Noah Bennet's little girl - also followed past Peter. Of course invisible, and of course completely able to be seen by Peter, he just gave the other man a look. He was not up to meeting anyone. Just here to do a job. If Peter gave him away, he'd just leave.
Claire was looking around the tent, a tiny smile of awe on her face. "It's bigger than the outside," she commented, turning back to Peter. "That's...really cool."
Fluffers squirmed down to land on the counter, chittering at Peter. "Where's Rachel?" Claire's lips tipped further into a grin. "I was promised leather pants."
Reply
Reply
Reply
"You'd be my hero if you threw out everything that isn't salvageable," he grinned. He loved Rachel, he honestly did, but her clothing left a lot to be desired, and left practically nothing to the imagination. Not really the kind of look that Peter liked; not that he was superficial enough to let that drive him away, but a better wardrobe would be a plus. "I keep trying to subtly push her towards nicer clothes, but she never listens. Maybe it's because I'm a guy. Oh, and her bedroom's over there, through that door," Peter tilted his chin towards the bedroom door - their bedroom, it's not like they really had an option of two bedrooms when this thing happened ( ... )
Reply
Totally not laughing at him at all.
"Come help me," she requested. "I need something else to do besides," worry over her bio-dad, replay her conversation with Sylar, obsess about whether or not she was good enough for what she wanted to do, "think."
The room was obviously lived in by the both of them, which... Yeah, come to think of it, they were married, so that made sense. "Did you know the freaking paintings move?" she asked Peter as she pulled open Rachel's side of the closet. "I almost had a heart attack when some guy on a horse followed me to my dorm room."
Wrinkling her nose, Claire pulled out a halter top. "Who wears stuff like this?" It was a mystery. "She seemed normal enough - why does she buy clothes like this?" So much leather in the closet ( ... )
Reply
My heels had made no noise as I had walked inside; my entire body was held, hovering, just this side of pulling an aura. Muscles held in tense stillness, eyes almost fully black, my head was tilted to the side, studying them, with my hair spilling over my shoulder. "You're bright on the inside." Her aura almost hurt my head, until I realized I had opened my second sight again by accident. Closing it again required effort - by all rights I shouldn't still be able to use that and I wasn't quite sure if it was real or just my fevered mind filling in blanks where I expected there to be substance.
Hungry. So hungry that I couldn't remember not being that ( ... )
Reply
"And yeah, the paintings are pretty crazy," he agreed, popping the cap off his beer. "I saw this one of a guy with no head, and he kept laughing at me and following me from painting to painting. He was weird." Peter honestly couldn't answer Claire's questions about Rachel's clothes. Well, he could, in that he supposed Rachel dressed that way because it was the only way she felt good about herself, but... yeah. No good answers, there ( ... )
Reply
Reply
Peter's harshness made me cringe, shying back for a second. "I know, I told you, over and over and you said it was okay but now it's not and I know."
Claire's hand landed on my arm and I jerked back sharply, eyes going wide. "No." I laughed, then, a wild chuckle that sounded like broken glass falling down a mountain in a rainstorm and oh, God, was this what it felt like to be crazy? "No, I don't think I ever have been. Except once, but I can't remember his name. He shone, though, all blue. But I can't see him anymore. I think I broke it."
My eyes went to Peter's, pleading with him to understand. "I think I'm lost. Could you tell me where I need to go?" Licking my dry lips, hands trembling, I felt like I should remember something. Like this thing that I couldn't reach was important ( ... )
Reply
...Until Rachel seemed to regain a few of her senses. Peter promptly forgot all about sides.
With a low sigh, he started forward and wrapped his arm around Rachel's shoulders, leading her out into the living room. Ivy had told him that bedrooms, with their beds and their intermingled scents, weren't great places for non-practicing vampires. Not that the living room was any better. "Hey," Peter gently cupped Rachel's face, uncaring that Claire might be watching. "You okay?" Silent for a moment, he simply watched her, concerned. It was obvious that she was still a vampire, but he felt he could handle it if she started craving blood again. "Where did you go? I was worried."
Reply
Giving up on that, she grabbed a pair of worn jeans, a tank top, and a hoodie from a drawer full of the things the Rachel obviously didn't wear out in public. Slipping out, she laid them on a chair - Rachel would probably feel better once she wasn't dressed like a hooker - then went into the kitchen to make some tea. Tea was soothing, right?
Reply
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