After the last conversation, a certain brunette heroine was feeling a little left out and this was the result. So, enjoy some more!
Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own it.
While her visits, for lack of a better term, from a certain Fae King are not exactly commonplace, they aren't rare either. What is rare are the visits she gets from her. She only has this power because sometimes the girl needs another girl to talk to. And who better than one she identifies with so much?
"What can I do for you?" she asks while lying in bed. Her other guest isn't nearly as annoying as her counterpart when it comes to wanting to talk, and more often than not it's the former who seeks the latter out.
"I heard you've been having some trouble writing lately," her voice always remains that of the teenage girl, no matter how old she must be by now, no matter how she's been imagined to have aged she always remains that stubborn teenage girl who so many got to know, and watch grow, in the span of a single night.
"Gee, nothing stays secret for long, does it?" she asks sarcastically, "Did his royal glitterpants tell you that?"
There's a chuckle at the insult, and while the girl knows the king will hear about it, she also knows that she's somewhat constructed him to know she's only playfully insulting him. Most of the time, anyways.
"No," she manages through her mirth.
"Then, praytell, how did you know?"
"Well, this is your mind. Did you really expect us not to know? How could we help you if we didn't?"
She has a point there; the other girl concedes. The "we" in this case refers not just to the two of them, but every character she keeps in her gallery in case she ever has need of them.
She sighs, "It's just been hard. I have plenty of ideas, more than enough. But writing is hard enough on its own. Add that to the year I've been having and… Not to mention, I've only had the strength to rewatch once or twice. The year before had me watching it at least once a week. Somehow, it just doesn't feel the same anymore. I still adore it, I still adore you guys, but it almost feels like there's something…"
"Missing?" she supplies.
"Yeah," the girl agrees, "But I thought you would be happy about my lack of progress. Minus the "unfinished story limbo" itch I'm not placing you into clichéd romance plots with his highness at the moment."
"I feel as though you've been a bit too influenced by that fancomic you've been reading," she responds, "While, yes, normally I would be in denial about feeling anything other than disdain for him: it's been thirty years. And with nearly the entirety of the –what was the word you used? Fandom? Yes, the fandom, wanting me to become his queen you start to wonder if they don't have a point."
"There are a few who would rather keep him for themselves," she points out.
"Ah yes, he's told me," one thing that she had often thought about when talking with them was that since they were a public product of sorts, if they were not connected to everything related to their movie. Somehow, that had turned into the answer yes. And they had both told her that every piece of fiction involving them, whether she had read them or not, they knew: because it became a part of them.
"Nothing like being shoved to the wayside for a self-insert character, right? Or, in some cases, your own brother," she stuck her tongue out and shuddered at that. She wasn't against two men in love, but there had to be a believable basis for such a thing, and baby-napping didn't qualify with her.
The other female shared the sentiment. Some things were just too weird to even consider.
"Just because you haven't stopped writing doesn't mean others have you know," she pointed out.
"They're welcome to it," she countered, "I just can't bring myself to do it. Every time I try I feel like the spark has been extinguished. Besides, what's the point? Every good story has already been told."
"But not every story has been told the way you tell it." She pointed out, "You know, I always feel as though you portray me well. I never was the simpering, turn a complete one-eighty type anyways."
She rolls her eyes and laughs, "I'm sure, the only reason I relate so much to you is because we have so much in common."
And it's true, to some extent. Both of them loved reading and acting, both appeared to have trouble with friends, they had odd habits, and they each had a single sibling with a bit of a large age gap between them. Her parents hadn't split, and were still married, but not everything was like it was in the movies.
She laughed, remembering something her parents had once told her, "Did you know I was even supposed to have your name?" she asked.
The other girl's brows rose, "Really?" she drawled, "What happened?"
"My parents," she said as if that was explanation enough but continued anyways, "I have a lot of extended family because of my parents' friends. Well, my mother and one of their friends were pregnant at the same time, and they shared the same first name. My parents' friend had her baby first and named her… your name obviously; well, they already had the conundrum where the two mothers had the same first name, they weren't about to put their daughters through the same thing. So, a new name had to be thought up and that's partly how I got my name."
"You think I would have known that, considering I'm somewhat part of you."
"I don't make it a point to always be thinking of stories surrounding my birth."
There was a pause. And then the other girl said, "Will you try to write again?"
If there was one thing she hated, it was being nagged, "Telling me I should do something immediately makes me not want to do it."
"It's been months," she pointed out.
"I'm aware of the passage of time you know."
"You've come to terms with-"
"No I haven't!" she protested, putting her hands over her ears and shouting, "La-la-la I can't hear you! It's not true, that didn't happen!"
"Now who's being childish?" she asked.
"I don't care," said the other petulantly.
"You know how life is. One day you too will die, and then part of us will die with you."
"Gee, aren't you a ray of sunshine?" she retorted, "And, I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but the direction you're taking this conversation in isn't helping your cause."
"If this was how I was acting that night maybe I deserved all I got," she mused.
"I thank you for that lovely comparison."
"I was just thinking out loud," she argued.
"Right…" she drawled.
"We're getting off track here," she attempted to salvage the derailed conversation, "Look, I know it's hard, I know it's even a little bit painful. But from pain comes one of two things: greatness, or more tragedy. Which one do you want to be?"
She sniffed, "Greatness?" the way she phrased it like a question belied her uncertainty.
"Then go out and create, share your feelings, share your magic. I can almost guarantee there are others out there who feel the same."
"You really think so?"
"There's only one way to find out. Go on," she urged, "Put your fingers to the keyboard. Let the words, let the emotions pour out of you. It doesn't have to go anywhere; as long as you know you've done it then that's all that matters. I've seen what you can do, and everyone has a little magic in them. For some it's art, for others it's music, sports, math, science, anything you could imagine. Your magic is writing, don't keep it bottled up inside."
"Wow," she remarked after the speech, "You really are a heroine character, aren't you?"
There was a surge of movement and she could almost see the blush forming, "You have a problem with that?"
"No, no," she quickly assured, "I just couldn't help but notice it, especially after you go and do something like that."
"Remember, part of the way I am is due to your influence as well." She reminded.
"Yeah, you know, I treat you guys so much like autonomous people that sometimes I forget."
"And that's how you get caught talking to yourself."
"I have an excuse down pat for that by now. Whenever someone asks me if I was talking to myself I always say, "Yes, because I always have the most interesting conversations this way." The looks I get are priceless!"
"And yet I seem to recall you feeling like an outcast for the longest time for doing things like that."
"I found theatre, and I have a whole internet full of like-minded individuals to back me up. Hard to feel like an outcast when so many people can relate."
"I suppose," she realized the conversation had derailed again, "But really now, you should get to writing again."
"I will" she replied through a yawn, "But can't it wait 'til tomorrow? You kind of chose a poor time for a pep talk that yields results."
She thought about that for a moment, and realized her companion was right. She could let it go for now. And if more pressing was needed later, that was fine too.
She laughed a little, "Alright, I'll let you get some sleep. So long as you keep your word and get to writing again soon."
"I know," the yawns were coming more frequently now, to the point where her speech was getting mangled by them.
"Goodnight then, I'll see myself out. But remember: should you need us, for any reason at all…"
"I'll call," she finished, "Goodnight Sarah,"
"Goodnight," and the presence vanished, leaving nothing more than a sleeping girl with a secretive smile on her face.
Much like last time, everything I have said in this story isn't made up. I actually do have a sibling who's ten years younger than I am, and my name before I was born was supposed to be Sarah, until the other Sarah's mother who shares a name with my mother had her first and got dibs on the name. What can I say, my life has some interesting vignettes that would make for a great biography if I ever got famous. Also as stated before: if I don't see you again before the year ends Happy Holidays and may every lovely thought warm you this winter. Unless you're in the Southern Hemisphere in which case I hope you're not physically warmed but emotionally and maybe spiritually if you're that kinda person. Fairfarren!
