[The Dorms] A Perilous Acquaintance

[Kokuten]

"Je suis désolé, ma chère amie," Manon said from Drysi's bed, sitting up to cross her knees, "I have nowhere else in ze world to go. I am alone"

That joke hadn't been delivered with much paunch, or rather, it didn't sound like a joke at all. The clown didn't let it break her stride, and she stretched in the manner that resembled a cat.

"I cannot replace your cod liver fix, but I can blend in such a way, you would not notice me!"

With a swipe over her face, her make-up was gone.

"A little wash…"

Then, she made a motion like she were turning a dial on her head. Her eyes shifted from brown, to blue, to red and then to green.

"A little shine..."

Her fingers ruffled through her hair, shaking out the natural red, replacing it with a bright gold.

"And a little color, and you'd barely know I was here! This is ze look you like, non? I can even snuggle up and help you with your film, mais, pas de drôle d'affaire, je suis parlé pour."

[Straken]

“No! Just… no,” Willow started, blushing slightly. “Just, be yourself. Yourself yourself, not clown yourself. My comfort in all this is not based on your ability to look like Drysi… or snuggling.”

Burning Iron Willow found a vial of metal on her desk and pulled it through the air before catching it. Burning Steel she found her go to bit of metal in the floor, and in practiced maneuver pushed slightly against. It wasn’t a lot of force, simply enough to allow her to hop up onto her lofted bed. Collecting her laptop she rolled back off to the floor; but a bit more normally, feeling a little self conscious about being called an acrobat.

“I was smack in the middle of a horror movie, we can watch something else,” Willow said as she instead sat in her chair. “So you’re legit just planning on staying here all summer? Like… why? I mean, you told me the why, but why me? Crashing with someone you barely know is better than your alternatives?”

[Kokuten]

Again, Manon gave Willow a look as if she didn't quite understand the meaning of her words. She maintained the appearance of a green-eyed blonde, but her somewhat feline demeanor bled through. Her eyes blinked slowly, and her feet swayed back and forth.

"I did not think we were such strangers," said Manon, finally, "We fought side-by-side in the forest against ze wight, non? We have most of the same acquaintances, non? We are both very fond of Johann. Et je respecte assez sa sensibilité pour ne pas lui imposer ça."

She uncrossed her legs and folded her knees back the other way, "We all came back from Hawaii, harrowed, but alive. Moreover, I thought I had discovered something more we had in common; having no family to return to. Two orphans on their own, but together? Il a tous les éléments d'un drame d'été."

A wry look spread on her face, "Très franchement, I thought you would have leapt to my aid, being ze heroic type you are, but I am not a natural blonde, after all."

[Straken]

Leaning back in her chain, Willow shrugged slightly. Perhaps it was her own end that was lacking information. Even when Drysi was still all nails and vinegar when they first met, Willow felt she had a good idea of the other girl’s quirks within a week. Manon on the other hand Willow had known for months now, and yet a mental list of character traits amounted to: Clown stuff. The dangerous outings were a good point, but somehow even during those the list remained: Clown stuff. While they weren’t strangers, Willow felt she knew next to nothing about Manon compared to the others she’d met here at Safeholme.

“Again, I’m not an orphan,” Willow repeated. Her own demeanor seemed a little sullen. “And I’m not all that heroic I think, hair colors aside. Just an adrenaline junkie. Sorry to disappoint.”

[Kokuten]

"Comme c'est bizarre. D'où vient cette opinion de vous-même?" said Manon, fascinated by what Willow had told her. Feeling more at home now, she started unpacking more of her things: school supplies, some clothes, an old walkman, and a manila folder with the letters B-84/M. LAFRAMBOISE stamped on it. "That is not how others look at you."

A small bike horn was set on Drysi's table with a gentle reverence, "Johann; he looks up to you like a big sister. He sees everything you do as something to aspire to. Drysi. Oh, Drysi, do not be confused by her love. She adores you in a way few others do. She looks at you and sees foundation. Support. Vous êtes son socle. Just being near you makes her at ease. I see it when you leave the room."

She tugged out a little stuffed bee plush, "Eryk admires your bravery, charging into fights bare fisted. Chinami is intimidated by your honesty. Katerina values your steadfastness. Vrey gravitates to your consistency."

Returning to the bed with her bee, reclining like a queen, she gave Willow a saccharine smile, "Stop me if you start sounding too heroic."

[Straken]

Willow appeared to blush a bit as Manon gave her some affirmation. The Brit even smiled a bit, but it seemed oddly distant compared to how jovial she usually was. While it was all quite flattering, it brought to mind a rather fresh event she’d been working on forgetting. Shifting uncomfortably she lifted her legs up into her seat and hugged her knees.

“Questionable judgements all around,” Willow gestured and feigned sarcasm. “There’s more to heroism than reckless abandon and poor judgement. Most heroes don’t end up impaling themselves. Long way to go before I get my own comic book.”

In honesty, Willow didn’t see herself as heroic, she simply hated losing. Manon’s words felt good, but they also terrified her more than any movie. After all, what would her friends end up thinking when they realized the difference too. Resting her chin on her knees, she grabbed her feet and huffed.

[Kokuten]

”Non! You are right. You are tres right, several of your closest friends are certainly mistaken, and without cause to believe in you," Manon chewed those words out as she listened to Willow dismiss herself. "Even myself, who came to impose on you, was mistaken in her judgement. Pourtant, au lieu de me jeter sous la pluie, me voici au chaud et en sécurité."

Then, suddenly the bee flew across the room and struck the light-switch, plunging the room into darkness. Willow could make out the shadow of Manon moving around, but had little time for her eyes to adjust. Stage lights beamed from the ceiling, revealing Willow.

Rather it was a taller, more French Willow. Manon was wearing one of the girl's shirts, looking groggy. She stumbled for a moment, before finding some implied object on the ground.

"Oh, what's this? Drysi fell down the well? I'm coming, my love!" said Manon, in her interpretation of Willow. She leapt out stage right, and entered stage left somehow. "It's worse than I thought! It's no well at all, but a demon grandma! I'm coming, my love!"

Manon snatched up the pillow on the bed, threw it stage left and then leapt to tackle it to the ground when it flew in from stage right. The lights went out, and there was a series of tumbling heard.

"Have at thee! Die, evil grandma!"

After a few minutes of struggling, the lights came up again, and the pillow was atop Manon. "We have it done it, my love. You are free. Now… To live…"

Manon's Willow turned over on the pillow, "... happily ever after."

She began to passionately kiss the cushion, and the lights went out.

Another soft object tossed across the room toggled the light switch, and Manon was revealed as normal, bowing. "Thank you, thank you! It is a story of my own creation, but am struggling to typify its main character. Perhaps you have some ideas, Saule?"

[Straken]

Ouch. Manon was clearly leading into a bit, but it still stung. When the lights went out Willow almost started burning Tin as a reflex, but thankfully the dramatic lighting kicked in first and kept her from blinding herself. As the performance played out she almost lost it at the sheer absurdity of it all, and felt momentary nostalgia for her first day at Safeholme when Ms. Riley had appeared as an aged post-apocalyptic Mr. Flynn. It was funny, over-the-top, and best of all not overtly clownish. Although, it was still wrong.

“Loosely based on true events, of course,” Willow added at the end of Manon’s bow. “Makes for good stage play, but real people aren’t so flat. If, for whatever reason I were in that situation, I would also be motivated by pride, anger, and shame. MC lived with her for months, and didn’t notice the cries for help or the signs that something was wrong; and because of that her friend got hurt. Her friends got hurt. This play should have a part two, where her friends who came to help were confronted by a different evil, and all the MC did was cower.”

Willow was hugging her legs tighter, guilt apparent in her voice. Scowling at something, she eventually forced her feet back to the ground. She hated when she got like this.

[Kokuten]

Manon scratched her head, befuddled.

"C'est pire que ce que je pensais."

First she tried to say something, but then appeared to think better of it. She did this a few more times until she sat down on the bed, reflecting on Willow's words. Then, suddenly, as she always did, she burst from her seat with a fanfare of confetti.

"Non non non, this will not do, mon ami," said Manon, shaking her head, "Heroes. Saving. These words are not well understood by me. Perhaps my English… She is not very good."

Now a shoe went flying across the room, and the lights went out again. There was a loud shifting noise from Manon's end of the room, and a wide shadow grew. Stage lights illuminated an upturned mattress with Manon standing behind it.

Dangling from her hands was a puppet that looked like Alexei.

"A vicious criminal. Someone more powerful than any we have seen. He appears upon ze scene of our hero, and he encounters a foolish hexer."

A puppet of Eryk appeared, swaying only for a moment before his strings were cut.

"Then, a silly clown stands in his way."

Another marionette, this one a clown, dropped down, raising a hand holding an umbrella. Alexei moved forward and Manon discarded the clown over her shoulder.

"Finally, a handsome man defies him, dangerously close to using something awful he does not understand."

Down came a turban-wearing puppet. Alexei raised a hand, and Manon tossed the turban-clad lad off into the dark.

"And where is our hero?"

Out came the marionette that was undoubtedly Willow.

"Standing firm?"

The Willow puppet turned away from Alexei as he passed by.

"Running away?"

Alexei turned, and returned back the other way. He was pulled up and behind the mattress.

"Neither."

Willow's puppet turned again, this time with a three-eyed puppet tangled in her arms.

"She was preserving her friend. She could not save the others from their foolishness, so she saved what she could."

Manon tugged up the three-eyed puppet and walked the marionette that represented Willow over to where the turban-clad puppet had landed. The lights followed her over, revealing the puppet was oriented in a way that showed him trying to put the turban back on his head. The wooden Willow comforted him with her good arm, the other hanging limp, as the string had been cut.

"And when it was over, she stood and went to preserve ze others."

The lights went out, and another shoe went across the room. When the lights came up, Manon was back on the bed, the matress back where it needed to be. She looked a little disheveled.

"The thing that made the hero in this story was not her miraculous ability, nor her sense, nor ze bravery, but ze size of her heart. A heart so large that it is almost too heavy for her to carry. A heart filled with warmth. Un cœur rempli d'amour et de feu. A critic could point out what way she could have been written differently, better, but…"

Manon shrugged.

"... I prefer her this way. She is not perfect, but she is trying."

[Straken]

Willow laughed. There were some tears in her eyes, but she was laughing. The situation as a whole felt absurd. The performance itself wasn’t a comedy, and was actually pretty heartfelt for what she’d expected from Manon. It just helped put the absurdity of her own sullen demeanor. After a little she sighed and wiped her eyes with the palms of her hands.

“Thanks, Manon,” Willow said, her words followed by a loud sniffle. “Sorry about that. I hate when I get like this.”