OHD is a story of pain, tears, apples, laughter, thievery, knitting, secrets, coffee, embraces, and spasmodic dancing.
This me making up for last week's moody chapter! I hope you think it's funny. Because it is. Here's a life lesson: Don't ever hit a black chick on the head. Ever. -4.15.13
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NoVacancyMind—Ah, greeting Misses Vacancy, thank you for being my ONLY review last chapter. And yes. Sequined moccasins. That the shiz right there. Please enjoy another one of Peyton's episodes causing some more of our poor Loki's fearfulness. And I love you too :D
Disclaimer: Just because everyone loves Peyton, doesn't mean I will share her. *hugs protectively*
Warnings: Coat stands, French for "seen previously", a make-believe fort, funny head protection,foreign curse words, and that oh-so deadly ballpoint pen.
Chapter VIII:Day One—Coat Rack
-December First, Two-Thousand and Thirteen
The waning fire flickered in struggled bursts as if fighting to stay awake with the unusual pair, to watch what outlandish scene would be happening next.
A freckled, tan-skinned human child with flowing rivers of raven hair that curled at the end, was lounging in her maroon-coloured wingback chair, bouncing her leg up and down in anxiousness, deciding whether or not she would do this—this thing.
A cream-complexioned ex-prince with violet, jagged scars about his mouth and wrists, was sitting on his green sofa, staring off into space. It was long enough to seat three comfortably, four uncomfortably, yet he insisted on wedging himself closest to the arm rest, for the combined illumination of the hearth and the oil lamp on the nightstand to envelop him, to be blanketed by it's comforting glow.
Peyton lethargically lowered her lids until they closed, laid her bespeckled cheek against one of the wings of the chair, and took a deep breath, almost in a yawn, listening to the shrieking winds battling against the house, wanting to break in.
No way she was really tired yet. It was still early, at least for her. Nevertheless, being in the same room with a distraught and emotionally-agitated prisoner sort of sucks the life out of you after a while.
She had already made up her mind what she was going to do. Yes. She was going to stay, if you're wondering. However, she'd also resolved to accomplish something else as well. A plan, if you will, while everything seemed relatively calm…for now…
Peyton opened her eyes, and concentrated on making her voice as composed and unthreatening as humanly possible as she piped up so as not to startle Loki, "Hey…"
Loki immediately came to attention, scanning the room with fear flickering in his green eyes when they rested on her, chest rising and falling unsteadily underneath the bulk of his cloak.
She gave a measly sigh ,pinched her lips together, and puffed her cheeks out with air, feeling as cheerless as ever. There was no way of NOT scaring this guy.
"Um, hey, it's me…Peyton, your roommate?" she teased awkwardly.
Loki glanced about sheepishly, apparently a tad embarrassed.
""Um, so your back is kinda…"
She searched for a word that was neither broken nor beaten nor wrangled. The use of those terms, she knew, could only lead to tension. Peyton pursed her lips as she guessed, using an expression her mother often used,
"Snafued?"
Loki's eyes widened considerably.
Sna-food?
His puzzled gaze switched anxiously back and forth, obviously not knowing what 'snafued' meant.
"Woy…."*
Peyton gave a mental facepalm and rebuked herself for not using a 'real' word. Snafued, really?
Despite not being aware of the definition of the unfamiliar term, a gave a perplexed, hesitant nod, just hoping not to be confronted any longer
Peyton nodded, appeased and glad he didn't deny it. "Alright," she said, putting her hands on her knees as she stood up from her favourite chair. "Then I think I know the trick."
Peyton strutted sleekly over to the coat stand by the door, with a confident smile and swiped dramatically for a rather long, black peacoat hangily limply on one of the spindly hooks, attempting to be suave. It was freezing out at night and the winds were literally strong enough to lift her away, she knew from experience. And for her not to put on a coat, she would have to be certifiably insane …oh…wait a minute…
She gave a light pull on the fringe of the garment, and her proud smile vanished quickly from her lips when it didn't come down. Swishing around the lining in order to shake it, it still refused to budge. She pressed her lips together and smushed them into a twisted bundle on the side of her face, and giving a huff, put her hand to her hip.
Not again.
Peyton being a small person and the rack being quite tall, evidently made the task of retrieving her coat a smidge more difficult, because she seemed to be having a hard time. After tugging on the sleeves several times, Loki, slightly amused, began to wonder how she'd gotten it up there in the first place. Yanking on the belt, the stubborn hook refused to let the collar of her coat go, it became blantant that the tag must've gotten stuck.
As several minutes went by of her jerking on the peacoat, having put up with the stupid piece of furniture long enough, she made the terrible decision to leap in the air and whip the edge of the coat in hand, in attempt to snatch the tag free from its hook. Too late she realized that was a bad idea as, instead of pulling off just the coat, she brought the whole thing down with her with a tinny crash on the wooden floors.
CLANGITTY CLANG!
Loki gave a humiliating squeak and jumped up off of the couch like a frightened little mouse at the spectacle, his leg screaming at him in pain for even daring to perform such a feat. Grimacing, he gingerly sat back down and hugging tight to his arm bolster, shaking in dread.
It hit her right on the head. And she saw glitter, rainbows, stars, kittens, and other randomness shimmering and dancing momentarily before her spinning eyes.
"Uhnnnn," she rubbed her head, almost feeling the room reel about her, the rest of her body going numb.
Was Peyton ever to know that something similar happened to Thor and a lamppost not minutes ago? No. She wouldn't.
Painfully slow, she rotated her head and glared murderously at the coat rack.
Loki's eyes grew to the size of beach-balls and suddenly he felt very, very cold. And that just doesn't happen too often.
Still clutching the arm rest , he clambered over to his end of the couch, as far away from her as possible, out of range of any potential danger. Because he knew Peyton was not going to take that sitting down, not even from an article of furniture.
Peyton, looking utterly pissed, shoved the coat rack off of her, stood quickly, rectified the stand, staring fiercely, "You really did that…" she said oh-so very dangerously gradual and quiet.
"-AGAIN?!",she suddenly shouted, then shouting abusively, wrapped both hands around the pole and proceeded to 'choke' the inanimate object.
Again, a startled Loki could only crush himself into the couch as Peyton berated the coat holder, trying his best not to cry.
After making an absolutely flamboyant rant consisting of belts of vehement swearing and other phrases that either Loki just couldn't comprehend or were insults that could very well possibly be from an entirely different language all together…
Somehow Loki felt a bit déjà-vu-ish like he'd seen that happen before. Or at least sensed that something analogous occurred not too long ago. Whatever the feeling was, he didn't like it, and decided to play it safe.
"You stupid-pointless-MUNDANE little appliance!" Peyton hollered,still battering the poor entity, smashing it and tossing it and kicking it around the living room"You know what, you imprudent *kick* piece *kick* of furniture*kick*,"
She threw her fists behind her, thrusted her head forward, and screamed, "GO GET MANMAN'W -"**
Peyton ceased ranting abruptly, mouth hanging open in mid-profanity, hands once again about the coat rack's 'neck' and stared at a bug-eyed demigod that she'd forgotten was even there, who'd impossibly wedged himself into the couch cushions.
Her eyes widened disproportionately. One at least six inches bigger than the other. This time she did a literal facepalm.
The cushions were arranged cleverly about his crouched body like a protective fortress, his cloak pooling about his knees, the funny little arm bolster placed horizontally on top of his hair, balanced perfectly on his head like a seesaw , she supposed, to act as a makeshift helmet, from-his-head-to-his-toes petrified for his freaking life.
It took everything she had not to explode, double over, roll around on the floor, and point at him with howling stripes of unadulterated hysterical laughter. But she controlled herself and released a few giddy, snorted chuckles, sounding terribly similar to an excited baby piggy.
"Spnicg-spnicg-spning-tah-tee-hee-heheheeeeeee-spi ncg—"
Poor kid, you scared him to death.
She sputtered and cleared her throat trying desperately to stop snickering, feeling super duper guilty for making a scene and terrorizing her new housemate for about the fifth time that night.
"Pfft…spft…*cough*…ahhem. Uh… koman ou ye,Loki?" she asked, attempting to cover up what ridiculous feat she'd just performed.***
Loki lowered his head painfully slow from the back of his fortified wall and squinted fiercely at her with the pillow atop his head, only his narrowed eyes and his 'helmet' visible from kneeling behind his garrison, wielded with…what was that in his hand? Was that…the ballpoint pen?
As if he were saying," I have no idea what you said to me,child, but if you take a single step further I have no choice but to take defensive measures."
With a serious glare of his glowing green eyes, he clicked the top with his thumb, exposing the inked tip.
Like, "Be warned. I have a pen."
That. That made her lose it.
"Ba-ha-HAAAAAaaaaAAAAA!" and not caring about her remaining dignity at all , she clutched her arms about her waist and proceeded to do a non-hypothetical R.O.T.F.L.
Apparently, Peyton thought this was absolutely hysterical and Loki, clicking the pen back to it's neutral position, couldn't understand why.
* Translate: "Oh gosh…"
**I don't think I have to tell you what "manman'w" means.
***Alright. She said, "How are you, Loki *insert big grin here* ?"
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