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[h_hollister]

They're gone.

Nine days, starting now.

I can make it. I can make it.

Comments

[private to Hippolyta]

[secretarybird.livejournal.com]

I am also learning quite well the route between Mayfair and the Embankment.

Yes, it is the lack of helping that hurts so much. That's why I want to learn to do something like vaccuum and cook; it is so irrelevant but concrete.

I am very afraid. I don't know if I will feel it and I'm afraid I won't.

Re: [private to Hippolyta]

[h-hollister.livejournal.com]

...

I... I'm terrified. Not that I'll feel it, because I know I won't, but that they'll never come back.

I guess I kinda prepared myself to lose Nadezhda ages and ages ago, when she and Sev announced their engagement. But I'm still scared stupid thinking about losing her this way. She might not come back. Or, if she does come back, she might be completely different. Evil. Unspeakab...

*deep breath*

They will be back.

Re: [private to Hippolyta]

[secretarybird.livejournal.com]

Oh, they will. That I am quite sure of. They will be back, and loveable, and--preenable, and other things that are good. They will.

I will be in and out then, over the next few days, to dust and make unwanted sandwiches. Oh! That is the other thing I am learning, sandwiches.

Re: [private to Hippolyta]

[h-hollister.livejournal.com]

Djehuty? Can you teach me to pray?

I'll teach you sandwiches if you teach me faith. *little grin*

Re: [private to Hippolyta]

[secretarybird.livejournal.com]

I can try! I can at least show you what I do. Oh, and do people make sandwiches of honeyed figs? What about avocado?

I will come over soon.

Re: [private to Hippolyta]

[h-hollister.livejournal.com]

...

*small giggle*

I've never had a honeyed fig sammich before. I suspect that wouldn't taste too hot with Grey Poupon, which is what makes sammiches worthwhile in my mind.

And please do. I need someone solid to hug, and you're getting solid-er by the day.

Re: [private to Hippolyta]

[secretarybird.livejournal.com]

I will be there shortly. I might fly; it is quicker and I do not like the cold weather.

In half an hour or so, Djehuty is knocking on the door, shivering in his kilt.

[h-hollister.livejournal.com]

She opens the door when he knocks, dressed in sweatpants and a dark grey cableknit sweater.

"Hey. I've got hot cocoa."

[secretarybird.livejournal.com]

He steps quickly inside, turning ibis-headed as he does, and hugs her tight. "Hot cocoa! Oh, that is a good thing, a wonderful idea. I have had--some set-backs in being concrete, but I am practicing it very hard now."

[h-hollister.livejournal.com]

She hugs back, clinging to the god like a life preserver. ducking her head under the beak.

"You're solid and real and hugging me. That's pretty damn concrete, my dear."

She releases him from the hug and takes his hand. "There's marshmallows, too."

[secretarybird.livejournal.com]

He preens her hair a little. "Do they really melt in the hot chocolate? That is what I understand, but I have not seen it done."

He follows her to the kitchen, looking around. He has some interest in houses now, looking to see what makes the comfortable for humans and human-like people.

[h-hollister.livejournal.com]

She hums a bit at the preening. She's always liked that.

"They do! The fun part is slurping 'em down when they're just a touch melty."

She putters around the kitchen, pouring out the milk and the cocoa mix, popping both mugs into the microwave. Of course, if Djehuty is trying to get a sense of human-like kitchens, Dez and Hip's kitchen probably isn't the best place to start. There are no tentacle monsters today, but it's pretty bare, since nobody's had the energy to do a shop.

[secretarybird.livejournal.com]

As far as Djehuty is concerned, it's human-like. He can't make tea just by writing it down somewhere. It's fascinating.

"Look at that, it is a mix, it is like miniature cocoa that isn't ready yet...." He'd happily go for groceries if he knew they were needed, but he honestly doesn't know what makes a kitchen bare or well-stocked.

[h-hollister.livejournal.com]

The microwave pings, and Hippolyta pulls out two steaming mugs. Stirring them both, dropping in a couple of large marshmallows in each mug.

"Okay. This is one of the best comfort foods ever. I'd toast with you, but we don't want to spill."

She wanders back over to the living room and gingerly sits down on the sofa. "I just wish it wasn't raining again. This might be easier if I had some sunshine."

[secretarybird.livejournal.com]

"I know. I like the sunshine too; the rain is odd and cold and hard to fly in." He tilts his head to the side, eyeing the marshmallows as they melt. Probably this is one of those things that are better to drink without a beak, so he goes back to being human. For some reason the phrase goldfish shoals nibbling on our toes, fun fun fun in the sun sun sun comes to mind. It doesn't seem to help.

"Isn't the rain supposed to stay mainly on the plain? Or is that only Spanish rain? --I am sorry, it is small talk, but small talk is useful from time to time."


((Gotta go for a bit, d'oh.))

[h-hollister.livejournal.com]

"I think rain, well-mannered rain, at least, is indeed supposed to stay in the plain. Unfortunately, we've only got rude rain here in London."

A sip of cocoa, and an internal debate as to whether or not she should eat that marshmallow now... she does. It helps.

"I know that normality is what you make it, and holding onto your world as it crumbles is entirely human, and small talk over cocoa is entirely necessary. But... I've lost so much, so quickly. It's like there's something out there poking at me with a stick, seeing how much I can stand before I shatter."

[secretarybird.livejournal.com]

He reaches over and pats her arm, careful not to make her spill the cocoa. "I don't know if there is or not. But, huu, even shattering isn't permanent..." He scratches his head. "I know what you mean."

[http://users.livejournal.com/_ruthven_/]

A reasonably familiar voice from the doorway asks "....This a private cocoa-party, or may I intrude?"

[secretarybird.livejournal.com]

Djehuty's face brightens considerably. He starts to wave, and sloshes a bit of cocoa on his knee. "Oh, oh, Ruthven, hello, I--ow, that is hot I think, yes--I thought I would try to be useful here and spend time with Hippolyta. She will teach me sandwiches. And...huu, I am sorry, I have been running back and forth and making myself free in both houses, which is perhaps poor guest manners...."

He looks anxiously at Hippolyta, not wanting her to think that he'll cut off their conversation now that Ruthven is here. But he can't help being delighted to see him.

[http://users.livejournal.com/_ruthven_/]

"Ne t'inquiete pas, my dear. I came to see if there was anything I could do to help, and if Norman is anywhere remotely closely approaching all right." He detaches himself from the doorframe and comes over to them. "And my apologies, too, for arriving uninvited, Ms. Hollister. None of this can be particularly entertaining or even bearable for you, either. I shall do my best to remain unobtrusive."

[h-hollister.livejournal.com]

"Ruthven! Smegging hell, I haven't seen you since the party."

She manages a bit of a smirk. "You're not going to sing 'Bohemian Rhapsody' at us now, are you?"

[secretarybird.livejournal.com]

"Norman? I thought that....well, I tried not to think, and so did not ask. He is here?"

--and, dully but distinctly, he does feel something (http://www.livejournal.com/users/mercurialnature/56594.html). His hand shakes, and he drops his mug, and he stares at it.

"I...am sorry...."

[http://users.livejournal.com/_ruthven_/]

He says nothing at all, the same flicker passing through him, but he does take Djehuty in his arms and hold him painfully tight.

[secretarybird.livejournal.com]

He leans on him, and would be heavy if he weren't very abstract at the moment.

[h-hollister.livejournal.com]

She gets splashed with a bit of the hot cocoa, and it burns a bit... But that's swallowed up in the realization as to what just happened.

"It... is it...?"