07/09/2012
WHO: 2012 Persona Users + Oscar
WHERE: Dormitory attic
WHEN: July 9th, 10AM-ish
WHY: Attic cleaning! And beginning of what will be a terrible disaster.
( Being principal, he was able to assign himself with any group. )
WHERE: Dormitory attic
WHEN: July 9th, 10AM-ish
WHY: Attic cleaning! And beginning of what will be a terrible disaster.
( Being principal, he was able to assign himself with any group. )
Sure enough, when she glanced over, her suspicions were confirmed. The sigh under her breath was a resigned one, almost amused at how different they were. Emi's hair was in neat pigtails, Ama's had been tamed by a few brush strokes and was now starting to stick to the back of her neck, and one was sipping some kind of latte while the other one was... using a pair of boys as step-stools.
Speaking of which--
"Welcome to the party, Emilinda!" she called out, turning her attention back to the task at hand. Using their hands, Ama was able to get the boost she needed to grab the box on the very top-- as she'd expected. What she didn't expect was that the boxes underneath it had been shifted by the earlier moving, and they were starting to wobble.
Ama bit back a curse and shifted the box to rest on her hip in order to steady the other boxes with one hand. Easier said than done, and she knew poor Lester wasn't going to enjoy this, but if she didn't get them to stay still, it was going to be Boxes: 1, Box Team: 0. The last thing she wanted was a whole bunch of boxes falling on their heads.
Either way, this wasn't the most ideal of situations.
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Emi gave Rolf a totally unimpressed glance. She took a drink of her coffee while thinking of an appropriate response to that comment. "Got enough dumb smile there?" Yes, that would do. Siiiiip. Though she did acknowledge that she was on to something. By the looks of it they were just moving things around. Or getting the other people to do it for them. With the coffee in her hand, she quickly tried to think of the best way to get on the latter team.
She watched as Ama struggled "Don't call me that!" She knew no Spanish herself and, while she sometimes regretted taking French in place of Spanish as her language credit requirement, it was easier just to yell at Ama without actually knowing what the word meant. She was a bit peeved that Ama hadn't waited for her, after all. It bothered her ever-so slightly being the one to show up last and alone, but whatever. She had coffee and they didn't. And Ama looked like she was failing miserably. For the moment she took upon herself just to watch the spectacle. At least until she caught the sight of something moving way too close to her feet. She froze for a moment until she realized that it was a mouse of all things. The small girl quickly scuttled to the side and dropped her coffee in the process, but she held in her frightened squeal.
At the sound of the dropping iced drink, Oscar sighed heavily and looked up again. By the look he gave her, she knew that she would be cleaning that mess up herself. But that was the least of her worries. He, too, saw the small white mouse scurry to whatever safety it had behind the mailboxes. He himself really, really didn't care, but he didn't need any more mouse-caused accidents. "Their nest is probably behind those," he pointed out, walking over to the mailboxes himself.
Seeing what was behind them was much too difficult, but there was something interesting carved into the side. Right below a small peg where a large key hoop hung was a message: DO NOT MOVE!! A small butterfly followed the message, but he saw no significance to it other than the fact it was probably written by a girl. He trailed his finger over the letters and gave a mildly amused chuckle.
"You know, I hear that there are a lot of ghost stories about these. The principal that came in before me had told me that she tried to store some valuables in here, but everything would disappear." He was sure that the rumor wasn't true unless the other principal had a case of kids breaking into the attic, but messing with the students never got old. Oscar gave a wide grin, pulled the ring of keys off of the peg, and gave them a shake. "Want to try it out?"
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He cringed when he heard that gigantic iced coffee hit the floor, and he spun around to see the puddle of coffee just reach his shoes. "Careful. Try not to make more work for us, yeah?" As much as he wanted to just step over the spill, he couldn't just leave Emi with the mess. With a quick scan of what was closest to him, he pulled some rags out of a box and began soaking up the liquid and gathering the ice. Upon closer inspection, the rags looked to be part of an old costume in another life. Whoops.
As he cleaned, Rolf glanced over his shoulder at the principal. "Ghosts? If they'll take all this stuff, I'll give it a try."
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"Maybe if we put things in there and they stay, other students will find them someday."
The unicorn lunchbox full of trinkets and treasures Lillian had buried in her backyard when she was five was still there, waiting to be found if her parents ever sold their house.
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She turned her attention towards the mailboxes when Oscar moved and spoke, glad to have a distraction for a moment from all these people gathering. The thing he said wasn't as well received though. "G-ghosts? Do you mean ghosts came here and took those things..?" Heather nervously glanced around her as if one could pop up from behind a box any moment. She was usually a pretty logical person but the idea of ghosts scared her nonetheless. Perhaps she never really had grown out of it.
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"Almost done there, Ama?"
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And roll her eyes again at her roommate freaking out over something and making another mess, but that could come later.
"I've got it," she replied now, almost radiating excited energy; she definitely wanted to check these mailboxes out. "Thanks, guys, you can drop me now."
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He looked over his shoulder at the sudden turn of conversation. Glancing at the mailboxes, he just shook his head. "Come on everyone, that's just one of the old campus pranks. A few troublemakers spreading rumors isn't enough to get excited over."
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After Ama finished making sure they weren't going to be buried, Ezra dropped his half of the support gently and clasped his hands behind his head in a stretch. Overhearing Lillian's question, Ezra decided to play along.
"Like what? If we put something inside, it should be worth finding later." Something interesting or useful. He glanced around the uninspiring attic thoughtfully.
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A letter saying hello to the ghosts seemed a lot more polite than just dumping stuff on them, unasked. If Lillian was a ghost, she'd prefer to be asked if she minded taking some clutter off of a person's hands first. If ghosts existed, wouldn't they have feelings, too?
"There might be paper in one of these boxes..."
Lillian abandoned the box of knick-knacks and started rummaging through another box looking for a notebook and something to write with.
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"Paper?" Rolf hrm'd aloud as he, too, began picking through a box with now sticky hands. Oh, hey. He pulled out a small notebook and quickly flipped through it. It looked like there were some notes already written into some of the pages, but the ones in the back were blank. He flipped the notebook open to the blank pages and glanced over at Lillian.
"Lillian, catch!" And he tossed the notebook over to her.
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Lillian blinked, blushing slightly, picked up the notebook, and flipped it back to the blank page. She sat it down on the floor next to her and reached back into the box. There, I thought I felt a fountain pen somewhere in all that junk, she thought triumphantly and pulled out a cheap, black plastic ink pen that had clearly been chewed on at some point in its life.
"I found a pen," she quietly announced.
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"Yeah, alright...why not?" He walked over and kneeled beside the box where Lillian had found the pen. He dug around for moment, sorting through what seemed to be mostly junk, until he found another (somewhat usable) pen. Sticking it behind his ear, he reached for his pocket and removed a thin, leather wallet. No sense in writing out a detailed letter to mice and pranksters, he thought, frowning.
Instead, Dominick rifled through until he found a wrinkled photograph of his car, an old '67 Mustang. On the back of the photo, he wrote: "Don't waste your youth on idle pranks and mischief, kick it into gear and pursue your dreams! - Dominick"
"Silly," he muttered, still kneeling beside the box.
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Lillian looked around for somewhere to sit, preferably somewhere she could inhale a little more fresh air. Spotting a rickety wooden chair with faded upholstery near the window, Lillian took a step toward it then paused. "Those boxes over there are full of junk," she stated, gesturing vaguely to the pile she'd been standing by.
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Haunted mailboxes.
She sighed (more like huffed) once she was back on her own two feet, then quirked an eyebrow at Ezra. "Hate to disappoint, but there's probably not going to be anything here that'll be worth pulling out later," she pointed out-- though she suspected he already knew that. Not that it was going to stop her from testing out this weird mailbox theory, so Ama followed Dominick's example and rummaged through her pockets until she'd drawn out one of her grandmother's worry dolls. Why she carried them around when she had one under her pillow, she didn't know, but it had always made her feel better.
"Any pencils or anything I can write with in there?" she asked, moving over to the box to investigate. "Maybe something not like a quill and ink?"
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"Come on, guys. Looks like we're writing to some ghosts," he gestured welcomingly at the others, and made a point to smile at the nervous-looking girl.
"See anything in there?" he asked Amalia as he pushed some boxes aside for sitting room for the group. He'd be fine with just a crayon or something.
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