TT: I have writer's block.
GA: Oh
GA: Is There Anything I Can Do To Unblock You
TT: I'm afraid not. Thank you, however, for the offer. You are ever helpful.
GA: Hence The Self Given Title Of Auxiliatrix
TT: It fits you well.
GA: Rose I Am Blushing
TT: Good. You're adorable when you blush.
GA: You Are Not Helping This Situation
GA: Perhaps You Should Write A Story Entitled Two Females One Jadedblooded Troll And One Human Girl Who Makes Said Jadeblooded Troll Blush On A Regular Basis
TT: Perhaps I shall. The story of two girls who speak softly, read hungrily, and flirt heavily.
TT: Now, how could that possibly end?
TT: I haven't the slightest idea.
It is obvious from the first time our two females strike up a conversation that they are combustible. They seem at each other's throats, ripostes flying frantic from their keyboards, debating and one-upping and discussing things of monumental importance and minimal sense. They do not know each other's faces; they are hidden behind inconsequential screen names and their facades of banter and bicker.
They do not yet know each other at all.
TT: I've decided on names for the two in my story.
GA: And What Pray Tell Would Those Be
TT: You're intelligent enough to figure it out.
It is not until they meet that things start easing out; when they are able to talk to each other in person instead of tossed about on the violent seas of muddled timelines, unsure of how many times they have previously spoken. When they lay eyes on each other, they know; friendship has unseated passive animus, and they consummate their bond bent over a book at a dark-wood table, heads close together, minds buzzing with proximity and literature.
That first night, one of them dreams about the other, and it is a sunny dream that hurts sleeping eyes and unsettles the dreamer.
GA: Do I Get To Read Your Work When It Is Completed
TT: All in good time, dear.
TT: All in good time.
It is soon frightfully clear that the bond between them grows ever stronger; it is not long before they are scarcely seen apart; where one is, so is the other, and the one who is not omniscient, and so cannot speak for the other does not completely understand this connection that she participates in. She buries herself in the literature she is so familiar with, learning new things and yet aware every second of how very close the other is, the curve of her lightly luminescent neck marble against the honeyed colors of the room they spend most of their time in.
She wishes that it was easier to grow up, and sometimes, when she thinks no one can see her, she lets herself cry a little because she wonders, oh, she wonders and wonders if anyone else understands how she feels.
Ah, but none of this is simple!
These uncharted waters seem unnavigable, yet she remembers; she remembers that she does not have to sail them alone, for there is a girl sitting cross-legged in an armchair with a heavy book in her lap, poring over the text with a tiny smile on her lips, and this girl will help her along.
If only she could ask for the assistance.
GA: Are You Actually Writing This
GA: Your Responses Are Startlingly Slow
TT: Give me a minute.
These limbo days go on, and they pass by with an air of dreaminess, as though this is all the time in the world and yet no time at all, every second elongating and then pressing against its neighbors, impatient for the future and yet clinging to the past.
This girl attempts to chase away these feelings that have risen up in her with eloquence and logic, two things that have never failed her before, yet it nags, and finally, it comes to a crux, as all things must in the end.
And so she logs onto a chat application, a familiar one; if it were tangible, it would be worn around the edges, the corners scuffed from the times it has been dropped from medium heights. She holds a witty, yet meaningful conversation with this girl, this girl who she cannot fathom out, this girl who glows bright and blushes green and is very, very silly when she does not think anyone is watching.
She tells this girl she loves her.
And she asks, with some degree of apprehension (for these things do not come lightly), if the other feels the same.
She waits, blushing, behind her keyboard for an answer.
GA: You Must Be Writing An Awful Lot
TT: I find I am rather tired of writing this story, Kanaya.
TT: You shall have to pen the ending yourself.
TT: send: TwoFemalesOneJadedbloodedTro llAndOneHumanGirlWhoMakesSai dJadebloodedTrollBlushOnAReg ularBasis (doc)
My Addition Is Simple And Does Not Need Much Fanfare For My Writing Is Not As Articulate Nor As Attention Grabbing As Rose Lalondes
I Love You Too Rose
TT: You do?
GA: Of Course
XXX
Two Females One Jadedblooded Troll And One Human Girl Who Makes Said Jadeblooded Troll Blush On A Regular Basis.
The End?
