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wearsredhelmet.livejournal.com) wrote in
shatterverse2009-01-07 10:52 am
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Yesterday, Bridgette made a snowman by the pond of the Cooper farm. Button eyes, scarf, carrot nose, branches for arms. Nothing terribly exciting about that.
Today, she's gotten tired of looking at it. She's outside, with a short sword in hand, glaring at the snowman intensely.
With a cry of 'en garde!' she hacks at her snowman's lower torso. Marie, sitting a few feet from the snowman, watches with interest.
Today, she's gotten tired of looking at it. She's outside, with a short sword in hand, glaring at the snowman intensely.
With a cry of 'en garde!' she hacks at her snowman's lower torso. Marie, sitting a few feet from the snowman, watches with interest.
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Uh. She means, she really disapproves! Yes!
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"Oh?" she asks curiously, eyeing the sword because she has no real idea what an arc means.
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"How does that feel?"
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"How come it matters so much?" she asks - not complaining (well, not much), but curious.
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Bridgette glances to her left then rolls her eyes. "Not like you have to know this stuff, Marie."
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"Why not?"
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"You don't have to worry 'bout me becoming a killer," she says quietly.
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Oh.
Dinah tilts her head, not moving away from Bridgette and still as compassionate as she's always been around the girl.
"What happened, sweetie?"
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But she can imagine it. A lot more, ever since Katara's ghost told her that there might be away to bring Marie back.
Bridgette avoids Dinah's gaze, eventually finding herself looking at the house. "Let's go inside. I don't wanna-- it's cold. Out here. Please?"
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But she's still not going to teach her to kill.
She stands, hand moving to Bridgette's head. "Do you want cocoa?"
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Bridgette's fingers close over thin air a few moments later.
"Sure. Cocoa's cool," Bridge replies, without any real enthusiasm.
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Once inside, Bridgette will sit down on a couch in the living room - fortunately empty despite all the people here - without drying off her sword, which she puts on the couch next to her. Bridgette puts an arm around thin air.
She doesn't make a move to get cocoa for herself. That's what grownups are for.
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She decides to let it rust, and sits on the arm of the couch, leaving room for Bridge's imaginary friend.
"How are you doing, Bridge?"
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A moment of silence produces a muttered, "Sometimes."
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"You miss home?"
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"Yeah." She gently kicks her leg against the couch as she stares into the cup. "I have Inty and Gabe, and I love them, and also a lotta people here are really nice and cool, like you guys and Steph and the Rabbit and everyone else. But they're also...you know, back home before the flu, things were good. I didn't always think so back the, but that's 'cuz I was a kid."
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"It's good," Bridge says, gaze still on the cup. "We both like it."
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"Mommy used to put whipped cream and cinnamon on me an' Ariel's hot cocoas. We only ever had them at Christmas. 'Cuz we lived in Phoenix and we liked to drink cold stuff most of the time. It was special."
Bridgette falls silent. She'd forgotten that until now. How many other things about home is she going to forget?
Kick, kick, kick goes her foot against the couch.
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