You must be, if the tale of 52 is to be right.
[Coming home from town, Jilly doesn't stop to look at the nameplate before opening the door to her room. Why would she? The artist's name had never been on the nameplate for 1105. It was Sakaki's room and it always had been, for longer than Jilly had been in the castle.
Shouldering the door open, arms full of a bag with sweets appropriated from the Kat (she figured Barney wouldn't mind), Jilly's already speaking as she steps inside] You know, I never remember how tiring murals are until I agree to- Oh.
[She stands in the doorway, stunned into silence. Gone are the two beds. Gone are the stuffed animals, the pictures placed lovingly on the walls, and the piles of books that hadn't quite made it back onto a bookshelf (Jilly's fault, usually). Instead, Jilly found herself looking at the standard, castle given room, its impersonal luxury denying that anyone else had ever lived here.
The artist's things were still there, of course, but they were neatly piled at the foot of the bed... as if the ghosts had come and set everything up to be moved to another location. Even their pets had gone silent, Ricky hiding in a corner of his tank, Fluffy doing...well..what tribbles always did. Or didn't. And Chirp, bereft of one of its owners, was currently a handkerchief lying sadly at the bottom of its cage.
She doesn't cry (or not yet, anyway, though she can already feel it threatening). There's no desperate attempt to deny what's happened. Instead, she quietly sets her bags on the floor and opens her journal, doing her best to keep her voice from breaking]
For anyone who knew her... Sakaki's gone home.
Shouldering the door open, arms full of a bag with sweets appropriated from the Kat (she figured Barney wouldn't mind), Jilly's already speaking as she steps inside] You know, I never remember how tiring murals are until I agree to- Oh.
[She stands in the doorway, stunned into silence. Gone are the two beds. Gone are the stuffed animals, the pictures placed lovingly on the walls, and the piles of books that hadn't quite made it back onto a bookshelf (Jilly's fault, usually). Instead, Jilly found herself looking at the standard, castle given room, its impersonal luxury denying that anyone else had ever lived here.
The artist's things were still there, of course, but they were neatly piled at the foot of the bed... as if the ghosts had come and set everything up to be moved to another location. Even their pets had gone silent, Ricky hiding in a corner of his tank, Fluffy doing...well..what tribbles always did. Or didn't. And Chirp, bereft of one of its owners, was currently a handkerchief lying sadly at the bottom of its cage.
She doesn't cry (or not yet, anyway, though she can already feel it threatening). There's no desperate attempt to deny what's happened. Instead, she quietly sets her bags on the floor and opens her journal, doing her best to keep her voice from breaking]
For anyone who knew her... Sakaki's gone home.