Disclaimer: Usual applies.
****EPILOGUE****
Denna bounced along the street followed by a moody, limping stickfigure of a girl. One foot in the gutter and the other on the sidewalk, the taller of the two hopped on ahead while the other lagged behind, muttering to herself.
"Grueling heat..." She mumbled, swatting at the fat, short braids hanging over her shoulders - Denna's attempt at changing Lark's 'look' to something slightly different.
"Yay!" Denna sang.
"...can't go swimming..."
"Look at that, Lark!" Lark halted, balled up her fists, feeling the sweat gather in the creases of her skin between her fingers and in her palm with the irritability of a bull.
"Be quiet!" She said snappishly, managing to keep herself from stomping in a tantrum. Denna stopped long enough to look over her shoulder antagonizingly.
"Heat getting to you yet?" She asked coyly, one eyebrow lifted as her lips curled faintly.
"No! Leave me alone." Lark wandered on behind, her damaged foot - now on the verge to recovery - giving her a limp.
They stamped on.
At turning into Lena's street they nearly bumped up with a slightly grizzled man in an oversized raincoat - chances were he was homeless. Shoulders drooping he walked on past them, a bottle and a dogleash - unconnected to any such animal - in either hand.
They stared after him briefly, the moment lost in their minds soon after, completely forgotten soon enough. The sun had baked the concrete sidewalk to a dry, abrasive quality that made Denna regret wearing sandals, as her toes often scraped against it. When Lena's house came into view they both faltered to a stop, openly gawking.
"What?"
"Since when?"
Denna ran on ahead while Lark did her best to keep up, stumbling over the rougher patches of sidewalk and having to lean against what building she was walking alongside of every so often to let the weight rest on her good foot.
The moving van was parked directly in front of Lena's door and the door itself was open. Denna was nearly there, Lark pushed on. A few men came out the door supporting Lena's bed between them, bringing it into the van with rough delicacy. They were panting with the effort as Denna pulled up along the van wonderingly, letting a hand fall onto its side in astonished awe.
Someone, one of the movers, came around and stared at her suspiciously.
"Is something wrong here?" He asked tonelessly, his words lacking any interest in her doings but stiff. Denna shrugged, staring at the side of the van quieted dismay.
"Is...whoever was living here, is she still here?" The man's forehead crinkled up into exactly five wrinkles that stretched from one side of his head to the other. The corners of his mouth turned down and his eyes narrowed, if not focused on her.
"No."
"Odd." Denna muttered, her voice breaking a little. She heard Lark's uneven steps behind her.
"Where is she?" The smaller girl asked sharply. Denna raised her shoulders in a shrug, flopping around to lean against the van and run her hands over her face. The mover glanced down at her staunchly, unsure.
"I don't know." Denna replied although the question had not really been directed at her. Lark waved the comment off and stared expectantly at the mover, who shrugged as well and pulled at the cap on his head.
"Can't help, sorry." With that, he left, walking into the house and, ten minutes later, coming out with a box filled with clothing. Lena's clothing. Denna watched, bewildered, while Lark regarded each living being seemingly involved in the moving of her friend's things with irrationally growing anger. She slapped her hip a few more minutes after, her eyes darting down at the tires of the van before going up to Lena's bedroom window.
"Did she - ?"
"No."
"She would've - "
"I'm pretty sure."
"Shouldn't we ask around?" Lark cried out. Denna performed another, hapless shrug.
"I don't know. Perhaps."
"Perhaps? She's gone!"
"That seems to be it." Denna sounded unbelievingly disheartened. "So?"
"So we need to find out what happened."
"Do we?" Lark stared at her incredulously, quivering. "She's probably home again."
"Or something might've occured!"
"We'd be seeing the police here instead of a moving van where that the case." Lark remained stubbornly against finding a plausible reason for Lena's disappearance. She refused for something that simple, that sensible, to be the result of this search.
"She'd have told us." She muttered spasticly, spit flying from between her teeth a little. Denna bumped herself away from the van, keeping her eyes on the gutter. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her pants - camouflage pants that zipped up at the hip - to find an old candy wrapper in the slightly-gritty bottom of it. She crunched this up in her fist for a moment before letting go, her arms sagging as though their weight were suddenly too much.
"That's what I thought." She said plainly. Lark curled her arms around herself, hugging them to her chest, wrists cramping in the position. The back of her neck felt itchy.
"She didn't say anything last night?"
"No." Denna stepped onto the sidewalk, sidling up against the wall of Lena's house, propping herself against its warm side. Lark followed after, staring up and down and at the movers, and from them to the windows and then back at the movers. It was all very bewildering.
They seemed to have finished. A few of them even began to close up the van and Lark stopped one of them as he left the house.
"Where are you takin these things?" He raised an eyebrow thoughtfully.
"Why are you asking?" Lark jerked a thumb at the house.
"We knew her. She was our friend." The mover reached up to rub the back of his neck.
"Eh, a number of places - second hand, auctions..." Lark stared dumbly at him for a moment, her small hand slowly receding from his arm. Denna had long since frozen against the wall, arms crossed over her chest, head tilted against the plaster of the house. Her eyes remained widened to a considerable degree, her mouth a slim, straight line of red in her face.
"Er...thank you."
"Sure thing." He left. Ten minutes later the house was locked up, in front of their eyes, and the movers via the moving van left the street, going the way they had come. They had, in turn, looked back at the forlorn, forsaken house, unbelieving. The entire affair left them numb.
Denna limply slid a hand around her neck, letting her fingers tighten a little. They stared up at the boarded windows, the suddenly unwelcome feel of the area. It seemed like an unusually little, cramped space now rather than a snug home. Perhaps not a home. But a snug house it was not, not anymore.
Lark was the first to move.
"Come on. I need something to drink." She said dully, backing away and onto the curb of the sidewalk, wary of her surroundings. Denna looked over her shoulder at her sadly, confused, eyes asking many questions that but voiced those of her friend. Before any questions could be asked further Lark turned on her heel completely, marching crossing the street, heading in the direction of a coffee shop nearby that she had coincidentally learned the location of through Denna.
Denna glanced up at the house once more. She sighed, heaving a large, noisy exhale. Why? Oh Lena. They had such a good time together, even in fits of tension and alarming moments (of which there had been a thankful few). Any depressive loops in day-to-day activity had eventually seen Denna here, on the couch that was now on its way to who-knew-where. She had been so easy to talk to, even though she had often been moved to give advice without urging.
She stepped back slowly, her hands creeping into the pockets of her pants again. One came up to stroke her hair - still auburn, she had left it the original color rather than mess with it just yet - before slipping it back in. Lena had been so endearing, even Lark had agreed, at some point, to that.
Looking around, at the sky, at whatever lay across and at both ends of the street, she found it all to have lots its shine. Her skin broke out in goose pimples and she gave a small shudder. She had been kind...
Then, she followed after Lark, a hardened, heavy clump of something hanging inside her chest, encased in nothingness but existing of bullying worry, alarm, depression.
The street she left behind became unfamiliar territory again, crossed and walked through beforehand but featureless. A painful track of memory she embedded in the caves of her character to be pulled out only while reminiscing, and even that activity would be done lightly from then on. She felt it to be the same with Lark.
They never could remember if they saw anything of that street again. They probably passed by it or through it at some point, but without the needed recognition of making the event important. They had been sorely let down - and tested to an unneeded degree. This had been a low blow. And although they always wanted to find out what happened, they never extended their necks far enough to find out. They would not be cut like that again, and recoiled from that sort of pain then on.
She had never had any pictures of them taken. Them, or her, or all three together. Lark later on admitted to having searched the boxes the movers brought out, just in case. All she had seen was clothing. And all of it looked so impersonal once it had been shipped out of the right establishment, from home to van. Almost as though it had never belonged to the girl they knew to be their friend.
"They'll hurt. I know. I've told a terrible lie. This will affect them. But rather that than somehow bring on an upheaval of their normal life, or somehow endangering it through their knowing me any further. Rather that. Rather that than almost anything." Relena had said this tersely, in private, a touch of regret in her tone, her voice powdered over with sadness.
Oh Lena.
"Where'd you go?..."
Thank you very much for having followed this to the end, even through to its epilogue, something I had not expected to write in the beginning stages of this fic. Either way, I'm glad to have written this, something as I believed it would have happened. And I couldn't leave out my two original characters still in Canada - they deserved a bit of the end. (Longwinded, ne?). Anyways, thank you again!!
And here come the personal "Thank you"'s: Jooles, again, you're awesome, "A Boarding School Facade" is, by far, one of the best fics I've ever read (here's a shameless fic promotion: GO READ IT IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY, IT IS FANTASTIC!!). Your insight and humor and comments have all been highly appreciated, I wish you good luck in everything.
Vixen, I'm glad to have met you, I really enjoyed our discussions, as well as your pennies' worth concerning "SO". Thanks!
Nightheart, I've enjoyed your reviews immensely, thank you. ^_^ !!
Everyone who has reviewed and read as well, my appreciation of you abounds! Thanks a gazillion!!
****EPILOGUE****
Denna bounced along the street followed by a moody, limping stickfigure of a girl. One foot in the gutter and the other on the sidewalk, the taller of the two hopped on ahead while the other lagged behind, muttering to herself.
"Grueling heat..." She mumbled, swatting at the fat, short braids hanging over her shoulders - Denna's attempt at changing Lark's 'look' to something slightly different.
"Yay!" Denna sang.
"...can't go swimming..."
"Look at that, Lark!" Lark halted, balled up her fists, feeling the sweat gather in the creases of her skin between her fingers and in her palm with the irritability of a bull.
"Be quiet!" She said snappishly, managing to keep herself from stomping in a tantrum. Denna stopped long enough to look over her shoulder antagonizingly.
"Heat getting to you yet?" She asked coyly, one eyebrow lifted as her lips curled faintly.
"No! Leave me alone." Lark wandered on behind, her damaged foot - now on the verge to recovery - giving her a limp.
They stamped on.
At turning into Lena's street they nearly bumped up with a slightly grizzled man in an oversized raincoat - chances were he was homeless. Shoulders drooping he walked on past them, a bottle and a dogleash - unconnected to any such animal - in either hand.
They stared after him briefly, the moment lost in their minds soon after, completely forgotten soon enough. The sun had baked the concrete sidewalk to a dry, abrasive quality that made Denna regret wearing sandals, as her toes often scraped against it. When Lena's house came into view they both faltered to a stop, openly gawking.
"What?"
"Since when?"
Denna ran on ahead while Lark did her best to keep up, stumbling over the rougher patches of sidewalk and having to lean against what building she was walking alongside of every so often to let the weight rest on her good foot.
The moving van was parked directly in front of Lena's door and the door itself was open. Denna was nearly there, Lark pushed on. A few men came out the door supporting Lena's bed between them, bringing it into the van with rough delicacy. They were panting with the effort as Denna pulled up along the van wonderingly, letting a hand fall onto its side in astonished awe.
Someone, one of the movers, came around and stared at her suspiciously.
"Is something wrong here?" He asked tonelessly, his words lacking any interest in her doings but stiff. Denna shrugged, staring at the side of the van quieted dismay.
"Is...whoever was living here, is she still here?" The man's forehead crinkled up into exactly five wrinkles that stretched from one side of his head to the other. The corners of his mouth turned down and his eyes narrowed, if not focused on her.
"No."
"Odd." Denna muttered, her voice breaking a little. She heard Lark's uneven steps behind her.
"Where is she?" The smaller girl asked sharply. Denna raised her shoulders in a shrug, flopping around to lean against the van and run her hands over her face. The mover glanced down at her staunchly, unsure.
"I don't know." Denna replied although the question had not really been directed at her. Lark waved the comment off and stared expectantly at the mover, who shrugged as well and pulled at the cap on his head.
"Can't help, sorry." With that, he left, walking into the house and, ten minutes later, coming out with a box filled with clothing. Lena's clothing. Denna watched, bewildered, while Lark regarded each living being seemingly involved in the moving of her friend's things with irrationally growing anger. She slapped her hip a few more minutes after, her eyes darting down at the tires of the van before going up to Lena's bedroom window.
"Did she - ?"
"No."
"She would've - "
"I'm pretty sure."
"Shouldn't we ask around?" Lark cried out. Denna performed another, hapless shrug.
"I don't know. Perhaps."
"Perhaps? She's gone!"
"That seems to be it." Denna sounded unbelievingly disheartened. "So?"
"So we need to find out what happened."
"Do we?" Lark stared at her incredulously, quivering. "She's probably home again."
"Or something might've occured!"
"We'd be seeing the police here instead of a moving van where that the case." Lark remained stubbornly against finding a plausible reason for Lena's disappearance. She refused for something that simple, that sensible, to be the result of this search.
"She'd have told us." She muttered spasticly, spit flying from between her teeth a little. Denna bumped herself away from the van, keeping her eyes on the gutter. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her pants - camouflage pants that zipped up at the hip - to find an old candy wrapper in the slightly-gritty bottom of it. She crunched this up in her fist for a moment before letting go, her arms sagging as though their weight were suddenly too much.
"That's what I thought." She said plainly. Lark curled her arms around herself, hugging them to her chest, wrists cramping in the position. The back of her neck felt itchy.
"She didn't say anything last night?"
"No." Denna stepped onto the sidewalk, sidling up against the wall of Lena's house, propping herself against its warm side. Lark followed after, staring up and down and at the movers, and from them to the windows and then back at the movers. It was all very bewildering.
They seemed to have finished. A few of them even began to close up the van and Lark stopped one of them as he left the house.
"Where are you takin these things?" He raised an eyebrow thoughtfully.
"Why are you asking?" Lark jerked a thumb at the house.
"We knew her. She was our friend." The mover reached up to rub the back of his neck.
"Eh, a number of places - second hand, auctions..." Lark stared dumbly at him for a moment, her small hand slowly receding from his arm. Denna had long since frozen against the wall, arms crossed over her chest, head tilted against the plaster of the house. Her eyes remained widened to a considerable degree, her mouth a slim, straight line of red in her face.
"Er...thank you."
"Sure thing." He left. Ten minutes later the house was locked up, in front of their eyes, and the movers via the moving van left the street, going the way they had come. They had, in turn, looked back at the forlorn, forsaken house, unbelieving. The entire affair left them numb.
Denna limply slid a hand around her neck, letting her fingers tighten a little. They stared up at the boarded windows, the suddenly unwelcome feel of the area. It seemed like an unusually little, cramped space now rather than a snug home. Perhaps not a home. But a snug house it was not, not anymore.
Lark was the first to move.
"Come on. I need something to drink." She said dully, backing away and onto the curb of the sidewalk, wary of her surroundings. Denna looked over her shoulder at her sadly, confused, eyes asking many questions that but voiced those of her friend. Before any questions could be asked further Lark turned on her heel completely, marching crossing the street, heading in the direction of a coffee shop nearby that she had coincidentally learned the location of through Denna.
Denna glanced up at the house once more. She sighed, heaving a large, noisy exhale. Why? Oh Lena. They had such a good time together, even in fits of tension and alarming moments (of which there had been a thankful few). Any depressive loops in day-to-day activity had eventually seen Denna here, on the couch that was now on its way to who-knew-where. She had been so easy to talk to, even though she had often been moved to give advice without urging.
She stepped back slowly, her hands creeping into the pockets of her pants again. One came up to stroke her hair - still auburn, she had left it the original color rather than mess with it just yet - before slipping it back in. Lena had been so endearing, even Lark had agreed, at some point, to that.
Looking around, at the sky, at whatever lay across and at both ends of the street, she found it all to have lots its shine. Her skin broke out in goose pimples and she gave a small shudder. She had been kind...
Then, she followed after Lark, a hardened, heavy clump of something hanging inside her chest, encased in nothingness but existing of bullying worry, alarm, depression.
The street she left behind became unfamiliar territory again, crossed and walked through beforehand but featureless. A painful track of memory she embedded in the caves of her character to be pulled out only while reminiscing, and even that activity would be done lightly from then on. She felt it to be the same with Lark.
They never could remember if they saw anything of that street again. They probably passed by it or through it at some point, but without the needed recognition of making the event important. They had been sorely let down - and tested to an unneeded degree. This had been a low blow. And although they always wanted to find out what happened, they never extended their necks far enough to find out. They would not be cut like that again, and recoiled from that sort of pain then on.
She had never had any pictures of them taken. Them, or her, or all three together. Lark later on admitted to having searched the boxes the movers brought out, just in case. All she had seen was clothing. And all of it looked so impersonal once it had been shipped out of the right establishment, from home to van. Almost as though it had never belonged to the girl they knew to be their friend.
"They'll hurt. I know. I've told a terrible lie. This will affect them. But rather that than somehow bring on an upheaval of their normal life, or somehow endangering it through their knowing me any further. Rather that. Rather that than almost anything." Relena had said this tersely, in private, a touch of regret in her tone, her voice powdered over with sadness.
Oh Lena.
"Where'd you go?..."
Thank you very much for having followed this to the end, even through to its epilogue, something I had not expected to write in the beginning stages of this fic. Either way, I'm glad to have written this, something as I believed it would have happened. And I couldn't leave out my two original characters still in Canada - they deserved a bit of the end. (Longwinded, ne?). Anyways, thank you again!!
And here come the personal "Thank you"'s: Jooles, again, you're awesome, "A Boarding School Facade" is, by far, one of the best fics I've ever read (here's a shameless fic promotion: GO READ IT IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY, IT IS FANTASTIC!!). Your insight and humor and comments have all been highly appreciated, I wish you good luck in everything.
Vixen, I'm glad to have met you, I really enjoyed our discussions, as well as your pennies' worth concerning "SO". Thanks!
Nightheart, I've enjoyed your reviews immensely, thank you. ^_^ !!
Everyone who has reviewed and read as well, my appreciation of you abounds! Thanks a gazillion!!