Room 508, Sunday afternoon
Ringo had started the day by grabbing a box of donuts right as JGOB opened and taking them out to the causeway. She'd sat there for hours, slowly eating her way through the box, some tiny part of her hoping that two particular people would come walking up and share the pastries with her. No one had, though. Besides, even if one or both of them did eventually make it back, the chances that it would happen to be today as opposed to any other day were pretty slim. An hour after she finished the last donut, Ringo admitted to herself that she was just putting off the task she'd assigned herself, so she headed back to the dorm.
After stopping by her room for a stack of unassembled boxes, a couple of rolls of packing tape, and some markers, she finally opened the door to room 508. An few hours later, Ringo was pretty sure that the two boxes on Raven's bed represented everything the girl had had in the room. Only a few clothes, and what seemed like some antique knickknacks. It wasn't much to leave behind, and somehow that seemed sad. Ringo snorted at that thought. As if Raven's lack of stuff was somehow sadder than Raven never coming back.
There were quite a few more boxes on Kathy's bed, and it had taken here even longer to pack those than it probably would have if so many of those things hadn't sucked Ringo into memories of their owner. A couple of dresses that Letty had insisted Kathy buy in Baltimore. A set of lockpicks. A well-read, but cared-for acceptance letter to Stanford. A sticker-covered iPod (which was such a Kathy thing to own because who even had iPods anymore?).
A pair of well-worn ATs, which she spent a couple of minutes examining, running her fingers lightly along the worn down spots. You could tell a lot about someone from their ATs. What their stance looked like, what kind of tricks they enjoyed the most, the kind of terrain they rode on. To Ringo's practiced eye it was like a montage of every ride Kathy had ever done. She had to swallow around a lump in her throat before she could return to her task.
Most of those things, those memories, went into boxes. After some maudlin staring at a few of them, perhaps, but into boxes. But not everything. Ringo had found a heavy envelope with "Dante" written on it in Kathy's hand, and a couple of paper-wrapped packages addressed to Anders. Once she'd found those, Ringo had looked more carefully, half-hoping that there would be something with her own name on it, but there hadn't been anything. She knew that that didn't mean anything, but somehow it still hurt. She'd taken a couple of minutes to think about that, then Ringo had set the iPod aside next to the other things that needed to be delivered. Kathy probably would have preferred to know that someone would get something out of her music collection, right?
Now Ringo was doing one last pass through the room, looking in corners of closets and under beds to make sure she hadn't missed anything important. If this was the last thing she was going to get to do for her friends, she wanted to do it right.
[ooc: Room and belongings modded with permission. Door and post open.]
After stopping by her room for a stack of unassembled boxes, a couple of rolls of packing tape, and some markers, she finally opened the door to room 508. An few hours later, Ringo was pretty sure that the two boxes on Raven's bed represented everything the girl had had in the room. Only a few clothes, and what seemed like some antique knickknacks. It wasn't much to leave behind, and somehow that seemed sad. Ringo snorted at that thought. As if Raven's lack of stuff was somehow sadder than Raven never coming back.
There were quite a few more boxes on Kathy's bed, and it had taken here even longer to pack those than it probably would have if so many of those things hadn't sucked Ringo into memories of their owner. A couple of dresses that Letty had insisted Kathy buy in Baltimore. A set of lockpicks. A well-read, but cared-for acceptance letter to Stanford. A sticker-covered iPod (which was such a Kathy thing to own because who even had iPods anymore?).
A pair of well-worn ATs, which she spent a couple of minutes examining, running her fingers lightly along the worn down spots. You could tell a lot about someone from their ATs. What their stance looked like, what kind of tricks they enjoyed the most, the kind of terrain they rode on. To Ringo's practiced eye it was like a montage of every ride Kathy had ever done. She had to swallow around a lump in her throat before she could return to her task.
Most of those things, those memories, went into boxes. After some maudlin staring at a few of them, perhaps, but into boxes. But not everything. Ringo had found a heavy envelope with "Dante" written on it in Kathy's hand, and a couple of paper-wrapped packages addressed to Anders. Once she'd found those, Ringo had looked more carefully, half-hoping that there would be something with her own name on it, but there hadn't been anything. She knew that that didn't mean anything, but somehow it still hurt. She'd taken a couple of minutes to think about that, then Ringo had set the iPod aside next to the other things that needed to be delivered. Kathy probably would have preferred to know that someone would get something out of her music collection, right?
Now Ringo was doing one last pass through the room, looking in corners of closets and under beds to make sure she hadn't missed anything important. If this was the last thing she was going to get to do for her friends, she wanted to do it right.
[ooc: Room and belongings modded with permission. Door and post open.]