Room 206, Monday Morning - Arguing With One's Own Shoes
When Naminé awoke, her two blue sandals were involved in a rather hush-hush sort of conversation.
She laughed, cheerily. "Good morning, sandals. Am I to thank Fandom for this?"
The left shoe gave her a look that she could have sworn was a raised eyebrow. "Well, we aren't normally the type to talk, now are we?"
"I suppose not," Naminé said, a touch miffed. "Hello, then. It's very good to speak with you at last."
The left and right sandals shared what looked for all of the world like a meaningful sort of glance.
"Yes, dear," said the right sandal. "We've been hoping to speak with you for some time."
"Do go on," Naminé said. "You may not have this chance again."
"It's your outfit," said the left sandal. "White is just not your color."
Naminé blinked. "I ... beg your pardon?"
"You must have noticed it," the right sandal said. "Completely washes you out. Makes you look like a ghost."
"And these shoes," the left sandal said. "In March? You wear sandals all winter. It's a shock you haven't lost any toes!"
"Not to mention that they don't match the dress to begin with," snickered the right sandal.
Spots of color appeared on Naminé's cheeks. "I don't need fashion advice from my own shoes!" she insisted.
"Well, someone has to tell you," observed the left. "No one else seems willing to. And wearing that same outfit, day in, day out, don't you find it terribly ... boring?"
"I can imagine someone else does," said the right. "I wonder what else he's getting bored with? You can tell us, dear."
"My sex life is fine!" Naminé shouted. "Aren't we noisy enough for you? I can try to be louder in the future!"
All the residents of the second floor were probably hoping to hear that this morning. Very good.
"This is an intervention," declared the left sandal. "This may be our only chance to -- hey! Put me down! What are you doing?"
Naminé had lifted both shoes and was now walking purposefully to a corner of the room.
"I've realized something," she said cheerfully. "Sandals are inexpensive, and as we seem to be incompatible, I shall be replacing you. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy the view from your new home, inside Alea's litter box."
Five minutes and many profuse apologies later, Naminé was buckling her sandals and preparing to go to class.
"Bitch," one sandal muttered.
"I heard that," she said ominously. "Don't push me, shoes."
It was going to be one of those days.
(couldn't resist the crack. open for anyone wishing to chat.)
She laughed, cheerily. "Good morning, sandals. Am I to thank Fandom for this?"
The left shoe gave her a look that she could have sworn was a raised eyebrow. "Well, we aren't normally the type to talk, now are we?"
"I suppose not," Naminé said, a touch miffed. "Hello, then. It's very good to speak with you at last."
The left and right sandals shared what looked for all of the world like a meaningful sort of glance.
"Yes, dear," said the right sandal. "We've been hoping to speak with you for some time."
"Do go on," Naminé said. "You may not have this chance again."
"It's your outfit," said the left sandal. "White is just not your color."
Naminé blinked. "I ... beg your pardon?"
"You must have noticed it," the right sandal said. "Completely washes you out. Makes you look like a ghost."
"And these shoes," the left sandal said. "In March? You wear sandals all winter. It's a shock you haven't lost any toes!"
"Not to mention that they don't match the dress to begin with," snickered the right sandal.
Spots of color appeared on Naminé's cheeks. "I don't need fashion advice from my own shoes!" she insisted.
"Well, someone has to tell you," observed the left. "No one else seems willing to. And wearing that same outfit, day in, day out, don't you find it terribly ... boring?"
"I can imagine someone else does," said the right. "I wonder what else he's getting bored with? You can tell us, dear."
"My sex life is fine!" Naminé shouted. "Aren't we noisy enough for you? I can try to be louder in the future!"
All the residents of the second floor were probably hoping to hear that this morning. Very good.
"This is an intervention," declared the left sandal. "This may be our only chance to -- hey! Put me down! What are you doing?"
Naminé had lifted both shoes and was now walking purposefully to a corner of the room.
"I've realized something," she said cheerfully. "Sandals are inexpensive, and as we seem to be incompatible, I shall be replacing you. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy the view from your new home, inside Alea's litter box."
Five minutes and many profuse apologies later, Naminé was buckling her sandals and preparing to go to class.
"Bitch," one sandal muttered.
"I heard that," she said ominously. "Don't push me, shoes."
It was going to be one of those days.
(couldn't resist the crack. open for anyone wishing to chat.)