Hippolyta Hollister

The ibis spots her, and flaps its wings excitedly before striding over and crowding around her heels like an enthusiastic sheepdog. It's one of the ones that had gone looking for her when she first disappeared. See? See? There she is! Right there!

Djehuty, when he opens the door, looks just about as ecstatic. Then he wraps her in a hug. "Huuu. Huuu, it is Hippolyta, it is." Happy, happy sigh.

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"Hello, Djehuty."

It's been so long for her, three months. And how long before that had she let go by without visiting with her friend? Too long. The Nexus has made her lazy, it's made her take everything for granted.

Never again.

"Oh, I missed you," she whispers, hugging him back.

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Preening people may not be compellingly godlike, but he sure as heck is nibbling on Hippolyta's hair. "And I missed you. Greatly. Huu, Ruthven said to me that he had seen you in the Nexus and I was in such delight. But please, you are well? Let me look at you."

((Mrrrr. My email notifications are non-existent and my computer's cranky as hell. But hopefully I can continue to be online tonight!))

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"I'm fine. I'm better than fine. I'm home."

Getting preened by Djehuty is one of her guilty pleasures, like being licked by Hermes or kissed on the cheek by Ruthven. Those little physical touches from men far more powerful than herself, who for some bizzare reason loved her. And there's another little notch in her 'belt' of that revelation she had about feeling unloved.

"Look away. Here I am!"

((No proooooblem. I'm gonna be on and off tonight too; Del and I might play some WoW later. ;) ))

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Headtilt. Inspection. Yes...yep, yep, definitely a Hippolyta. All arms and legs present and accounted for. No obvious signs of damage. Good! Djehuty hugs her again, for good measure.

"--Huu, and I am being a poor host, trapping you like this in the doorway. Please, please, come in, let me bring you tea or beer or sandwiches or--huu, what can I bring you? Ruthven is here somewhere. He might be lecturing ibises just now. They are very keen on philosophy and the history of science...."

The lunar living room looks about the same as always: books, Egyptian knick-knacks, ashtrays, Djehutymes' school clutter. A dense, octopus-shaped cloud of smoke billows out of a vase and eyes Hippolyta.

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Yeah, all the 'damage' is definitely emotional. You'd be pretty miffed too if you were stuck in Arnold Rimmer's subconscious.

"Beer and a sandwich!" she gurgles, raising her hands and eyes heavenward in thanks to him. "I haven't had a proper beer and a proper sandwich in way way WAY too long! Oh, my, please, I'll have some of that, please."

She carefully flops onto a squashy couch and ooooh, smoketopus. She's not seen him in forever. A careful finger is extended for him to grab onto if he likes.

"How are YOU, Djehuty? Everything going well with you too?"

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Djehuty expects emotional damage. But it's still good to see no obvious amputations or dents in the skull.

"Beer and a sandwich can easily happen." He clicks his beak, laughing, and waves for a baboon to bring lunch. "I am quite well, myself, and Ruthven also. I hardly go to the Nexus at all--which probably accounts for it. Djehutymes grows very teenagerly, but he seems to be in a good humor with his parents just now. --Tch, Lotus, be good. Do not harrass our guest." The smoketopus has wrapped enthusiastically around Hippolyta's wrist. At least it isn't going for the ears.

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Ruthven comes out of the kitchen with his sleeves rolled up and a thoroughly unRuthvenid smile on his face. "Hollister! Good Lord, it's nice to have you here again."

He comes over and sits down beside them on the couch, eyeing Lotus sternly, but has to put an arm around her and hold her close. He looks extraordinarily happy, if tired.

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"It's good to be here." She gently hugs back, careful of Lotus on her wrist, and then leans her head on Ruthven's shoulder, eyeing him diagonally. He always looks tired, but this looks to be a 'busy at work with kids' tired rather than a 'mercury vapor in the lungs' tired.

"I just wanted to say that I love you both, by the way. I don't think I say that anywhere near enough to either of you."

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He smiles, and cuddles her. "We love you right the hell back, my dear. And I'm pleased to see you looking so well. It isn't everyone that can get over temporal displacement and bikinis with such élan."

There are noises of beer and sandwiches from the kitchen: ah, excellent baboons.

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"Yes. We do love you." This is said in Djehuty's most certain tones. Universal laws, here. Physics, math, Ruthven and Djehuty adore Hippolyta. That sort of thing.

The noises of beer and sandwiches give way to the arrival of same, borne on a tray by a pair of brawny baboons.

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And that just makes her feel so warm and fuzzy all through. Like she swallowed an angora sweater. Although she'd rather swallow beer and sandwiches. Which she does!

"...And, also, I'm still really sorry about that whole divine opium thing from a few months ago." Shifty eyes go here. "Um. I've decided to be with Ramon for the next time he does it. I mean, be there with him. So."

Oops, Lotus, do not steal Hips' pickle.

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Ruthven taps a smoky arm and retrieves the pickle daintily. "It is utterly forgotten, Hollister. You had every right to be cross, and next time he does it we'll do it right." He grins, and nuzzles her, and opens a beer.

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Lotus swirls petulantly. Pickle! His pickle! He tries to stuff a few arms into Hippolyta's beer, instead.

Djehuty glances over at Hippolyta. Diffidently, he says, "If you have any questions about the, huu, divine opium, I will happily answer. It is very safe."

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"I know it is. I'd rather he get it from you than some freak on the street cutting it with rat poison. Heh."

She pushes her beer away from Lotus and nuzzles Ruthven back.

"I don't...hm. Questions. Well, Ruthven already said it wasn't addictive, so that's not a worry. Hell, I'm tempted to try it myself anyway. Since it did him so much good, maybe it'll help me get over this soul knot, too. I dunnow. Maybe."

Nibble.

"Good sandwich, tho."

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"In moderation, it can be quite a salutory thing. --er. What on earth's a soul knot, and do I wish to know the answer to that question?"

Ruthven collects the smoketopus and lets him play with his earrings.

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"Well, you know how your back gets knots in it if you stay rigid and unmoving for a long time? Yeah. Soul knot. I didn't budge a fucking inch on people using drugs for...twenty years? It's a big one."

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"Soul knot." Djehuty tastes the phrase; it seems apt. "Uncomfortable. But it is a good thing to recognize, at least. And huu, try the opium if you think you can be comfortable; but you know you don't need to prove anything?"

He takes a careful triangular bite of his sandwich. Mmmm, mustard. And Swiss cheese! "I cannot tell you, Hippolyta, how much pleasure it is to write up the holes in Swiss cheese." Conversation shift? Sure, if any would like one.

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She mulls this over for a moment, and then takes a deep breath. "I think I'd like to start, um, smaller than that. Djehuty? May I ask you for some of your divine mary jane, instead?"

And with that, she laughs, a nervous, high laugh.

"Not to prove anything. Just to try it."

That laugh becomes more natural as he talks about writing up holes in Swiss cheese.

"I always wondered how those holes got there!"

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