Here or there

[ficcion]

WHO: Sophie Amundsen and YOU (specially if you happen to be at the Barns)
WHERE: The Barns, somewhere else? If you want.
WHEN: February!
WHAT: Sophie goes to visit Ronan, sort of decides she likes it there.
WARNINGS: n/a will update as needed

I. Getting there is half the fight

[ In order to get to Ronan, Sophie spent a lot of time preparing, by which it meant checking maps and roads and all kinds of stuff, so that she wouldn't get lost halfway.

And then she discovered Google Maps, and everything turned out to be a lot easier than she had expected. Faster too, but by then January was ending and she decided it would be best to go visit him on the next month. Some irrational idea that it wouldn't be polite to drop at the end of the month, somehow.

But with Google Maps... well, it was really easy! And fast! And actually kinda cheap! Still, it was something of an experience to get on a bus and go somewhere else, because while Sophie was all for adventure, this wasn't how she had pictured her first visit to the States.

A couple of buses later though, realization dawns on her. She's here, like actually here.

Getting to the actual Barns was still a bit of a walk, mainly because Sophie doesn't want to accidentally miss it from a bus. Still, it's a nice day to walk, and soon enough she sees the house on the distance, getting bigger and bigger as she gets closer.

Eventually, she reaches the door, but instead of knocking she just... stands there. This is fine, right?

Maybe she'll wait to see if someone comes out. Eventually. ]

II. A little nice and quiet

[ After the inevitable conversation that happens between Sophie and Ronan, she can be found lazing around. Ronan certainly likes his green areas, and Sophie is quick to find a really nice, warm expanse of grass to lie down and take a deep breath. While she wouldn't call herself a nature lover, Sophie feels very much connected to this place, and the quiet that comes with it.

So nice and quiet that she starts to nod off, indeed. Maybe she just needs a little nap, right? It should be fine. It's not like she needs to be somewhere else, or do anything else for the moment. What Sophie hasn't considered is that the nice grass might already be someone else's spot, or that it will undoubtedly attract the attention of others looking for some nice and quiet.

Well, they will just have to wake her up. ]

III. Writing it out

[ When you have the power to write anything you wish into existence (or at least Sophie hasn't found her limits yet), one would think that naturally, you would be writing things nonstop. For Sophie, however, it was actually a struggle to figure out what she wanted. She has no immediate need for material things (and she'd rather actually buy the likes of a phone or a laptop, since she wants to learn how they work). Money? It feels useless to her. Weapons? What for, since she's not a hero in any sense of the word.

What she wants to create is a dog, but Sophie knows that it would just be based on the one dog she misses. Still, it's a good thing that Hermes isn't here, but creating a Hermes-like-dog feels like cheating. ]

Maybe... a cat?

[ Sophie is by the house's entrance, sat down with a big book on her lap and a pen on her mouth, absentmindedly tapping the empty sheet in front of her. Whatever might she be doing? ]

IV. Wildcard

[ Find Sophie wherever and whenever, be it in the Barns or any of the cities. I'm open to most things, so feel free to pm me at beoluve ]

Comments

III (backdated!)

[deadthing]

A cat?

[A shadow falls across the page as a gawky blond teenage boy appears from ... somewhere to have a look at what she might be drawing? writing? (neither) and also at Sophie herself because she's new. The Meadows does get visitors from time to time, but Noah hasn't seen her before. He wonders how she knows Ronan.]

We get strays sleeping in the barns sometimes if you want a reference. ...Hi.

[ficcion]

[ Sophie can't help but jump a bit, quickly looking up to the boy that came seemingly from nowhere.

She tries an answer, but stops herself before she can make any sort of sound that could be confused with actual words. ]

Oh, um. Well, I don't really need a reference. But if there are already cats here, I wouldn't want to make another one.

[deadthing]

[Personal space is a concept he should really re-familiarize himself with now that he doesn't have the excuse of being dead. One of these days! Anyway, Noah does at least shuffle sideways so he's standing in front of her rather than peering over her shoulder.]

Make another one?

[He sounds mildly curious rather than completely baffled. After all, he does know a dreamer.]

[ficcion]

Yeah, like this.

[ And Sophie writes "SOCKS" on the page. She then... pulls the words out of the page, and in doing so pulls a pair of white, completely average looking socks. ]

I haven't tried with living things yet, though.

[deadthing]

Cool.

[Okay, the socks themselves are not cool by any stretch of the imagination, but watching them come through the page? Noah stares in slack-jawed amazement.]

Do you have to write all the details too? What about if it's something bigger than the paper?

[ficcion]

You think it's cool?

[ Sophie is honestly surprised. ]

I've noticed that the less details I write, the more it takes from my own... I guess, my own mental image, is it? But it's easier if I write more details. I don't know.

I'm still figuring it out. Would you like something?

[deadthing]

[Writing things into existence is very cool. Obviously.

He nods, excited.]

What about like, uhhh-- [Crap, now he has to think of something. He makes a vague circular gesture then snaps his fingers.]

Oh!

A really big gummy bear. One of those, like, two pound ones.

[ficcion]

A really big gummy bear...

[ Sophie is a bit embarrassed to admit she's not sure how much two pound is, so she just thinks of how a big gummy bear would look like. The first thing that comes to mind is her teddy bear back home; the plush was about the side of her head. That should be big enough, right?

So Sophie takes a deep breath and writes "A gummy bear the side of a teddy bear", while keeping the mental image of her teddy bear locked in. She finds it strangely simple to do, and when her fingertips touch the paper, Sophie feels it; power, flowing calmly from the words, connecting with her mind.

And then she pulls the words, and she feels as if she had just rushed a small flight of stairs up.

The gummy bear is... huge, honestly. it sits on Sophie's lap, as big as her head indeed. It's a bright red in color, and it looks like it's just been made. Because it has, of course.

Sophie turns to Noah, an uncertain smile on her face. ]

Is this okay?

[deadthing]

[Okay, so Noah has seen pictures of jumbo gummy bears on the internet before. He thought he was prepared... But it's so big. It startles a breathless laugh out of him.]

Oh my god- Yeah! It's incredible.

[He's already reaching down to tug on one of its ears.]

I don't know if I can eat it all. Maybe we should split it.

[ficcion]

Maybe, yeah.

[ Sophie laughs, tentatively poking the gummy bear. It wiggles on her lap, just like she imagines a regular one would do. This one is just ridiculously big. ]

Maybe we should put it on a fridge or something? I don't want it to melt on me.

[deadthing]

Oh, good thinking.

[He's just gonna scoop it up- carefully, carefully, oop- no, he's got it. It's squishy and dense at the same time somehow.

With both hands awkwardly full, he nods in the direction of the door.]

Come on inside. We can eat as much as we want and put the rest in the pizza fridge.

[ficcion]

[ Sophie nods and stands up, orbiting around Noah carefully in case the bear decides to misbehave. ]

Sounds good. I don't know how much of it I can eat before getting sick though. It'll be a nice surprise for the rest I suppose.

Next time I might want to make something a little easier to move though.

[deadthing]

[It would not be the first time Noah ate himself sick since regaining the ability to do so...

He hauls the bear to the kitchen and plunks it on the counter, starts rummaging around for utensils.]

Well, hey, I asked for it. So that's on me.

[How does one slice a gummy bear? He holds up a butter knife with a considering expression. Hmm probably not sharp enough. Steak knife? Bread knife?]

How big a piece do you want?

i (finally)

[nightmarist]

[ Ronan's not inside the house, anyway. He's in the barns, tending to the livestock, and she's been standing there for several minutes before he notices her there and crosses the fields to greet her. ]

You showed up, huh.

[ His boots are covered with the mud of mid-January snowmelt, so he stops to work his way out of them before he opens the door. His eyebrows raised, he gives her a ladies first sort of gesture. ]

owo what's this

[ficcion]

[ Sophie is starting to feel a bit silly when Ronan shows up, not from the door, but from a side.

Well, that's awkward. ]

Of course I did, and I've been looking into the Internet about these memes.

I like the one with the penguin.

[ She gives him a quick once over. If they hadn't been talking before, she would be intimidated right now. Ronan looks like the sort of guy that usually gets casted as the shady, morally ambiguous character in movies.

And as far as Sophie knows, he might very well be. Not that it matters to her. ]

Do...do you need any help?

[nightmarist]

[ No one - least of all Ronan - would blame her for assuming he's a shady sort of character, though he considers himself incredibly unambiguous when it comes to morality, even if his priorities are different from most. ]

Why the penguin?

[ No answer to the other question as he sweeps into the house. ]

[ficcion]

[ Sophie follows suit in a hurry, not wanting to be left outside. Which makes no sense, but then again, nothing makes much sense anymore. ]

I don't know, it's cute. And shy. But sometimes the background is red and things go well.

[ Is she an awkward penguin? Maybe. ]

Which one do you like?

[nightmarist]

Oh, you'll find out soon enough.

[ He shuts the door behind her and wanders in the direction of the kitchen, assuming she'll continue to follow. It's cold as balls outside and he needs something warm to unfreeze his fingers. ]

Want something to drink?

[ficcion]

You make it sound macabre somehow.

[ Does she need an adult? Is Ronan an adult? Sophie follows nonetheless. ]

Sure. I'm not picky, so whatever you have.

[nightmarist]

[ Somehow Ronan is indeed considered an adult in all fifty states. He scarcely believes it himself. ]

It's not not macabre.

[ Ordinarily he'd make a beeline for the coffeepot, but today he grabs a saucepan and sets it on the stove. He pours out some heavy cream and gets to heating it, gathering other supplies in the meantime: cocoa powder, sugar, big fat marshmallows. ]

[ficcion]

You probably like that tiger that starts all innocent and then says something... nasty.

[ She can't understand that sort of humor. Well, she sort of can, but teenagers in this decade are a mystery to her. ]

What- what are you doing?

[ Ronan you can't drink marshmallows. Or at least she thinks. ]

[nightmarist]

What, are you diabetic?

[ As the cream begins to bubble, Ronan stirs cocoa and sugar in, bit by bit, measuring by sight. ]

You'll like this. Don't worry.

[ficcion]

I'm not?

[ She thinks, at least. There's so much of herself she doesn't know about, so many holes in the narrative that makes Sophie Amundsen be a girl. Well, she assumes tehre is no point on worrying about it now. ]

So what is this, exactly? Some American delicacy?

[nightmarist]

Bingo. It's real hot cocoa.

[ Like his mother used to make, but he won't be sharing that, because he doesn't want to talk about her. The slop continues to heat for a few more moments, and just when it begins to bubble at the edges, Ronan turns off the stove. He fetches a pair of oversized mugs from the cabinet and pours out two servings, tops them off with a marshmallow each, and hands one over to Sophie. ]

Sip, don't gulp.

[ficcion]

[ A smile tugs at the edge of her mouth. This is... strangely cute? And considerate? But of course Sophie won't be saying that anytime soon.

She holds her cup gingerly, still not entirely sure on the entire deal. Still, she's a guest and she knows how to behave herself.

Following his instructions, Sophie sips. Once, twice. ]

Hey, this is actually really good!

[nightmarist]

Of course it is. It's fucking hot cocoa.

[ Ronan carries his own mug over to the kitchen table and plunks himself down on the bench. He sips at his cocoa, but its primary function seems to be warming his hands. ]