"When You Say You Will (Say You Will) But I Love You Still..."

Shoot. Me. for catering to Waen and her whacked-out desires.

Rouge et Blanc
Cosette/Carmen Sandiego

Red, bright red. Cosette pressed her face against the iron bars of the gate. Ladies weren't meant to wear such bright colours, her Papa said. They wore plainer colours, like her brown dress or her ivory brocade, dresses that didn't flash and sparkle. But this lady's big long coat did--it was strangely tight, and wrapped around her so that Cosette couldn't see what her dress beneath it was like, but that must also be awfully tight--and her hat...! Cosette gazed enviously at her beautiful red hat, velvety and big and so deep and full a colour that she felt it swelling with its brightness as she looked at it.

The woman was speaking with a funny-looking man who wore a suit of armour, like a knight in one of Cosette's fantasy books, which she hid in her room and read when she ought to be reading the Bible. The man in the suit of armour didn't, however, capture her interest half as much as the striking red lady. Cosette looked at her with wide eyes, deeply struck by the long brown ringlets of her hair, the strange, half-smirking smile on her red-painted lips, and her curious eyes, alert, awake eyes, clever, thoughtful eyes, businesslike and cunning and intelligent. Cosette had never seen such eyes before.

She ducked her head and pretended to be interested in a flower as the lady spoke to the man and he began to clank off, rather noisily. The lady's voice was soft and had the same half-smirk as was in her smile, and Cosette listened carefully.

Suddenly the voice stopped, and she couldn't help looking up fearfully to see what had happened.

The lady was standing right at her gate, looking in at her with a slight challenging expression. "Hello, honey. I'm afraid I've got to ask if you heard me talking with that man just then."

"Oh--not truly," said Cosette anxiously, shredding the petals from a hollyhock in her agitation. "I only heard you speaking, but I didn't listen in. That wouldn't have been polite."

"Well, you're right about that. I hope you're telling me the truth. It wouldn't be right to be nosy, especially with me--have you got that, darling?"

Cosette shivered and looked at the lady devotedly. She was frightened of her, and at the same time completely fascinated, by the dress, the bright, beautiful hat, the smirking smile, the careless, strangely accented voice, and the beautiful expressive eyes that stared back at her shrewdly, taking in her young girl's face and silly, tawdry clothes. Cosette looked down at herself quickly and felt disgusted. She looked like a baby, surely! Her hair was pinned up under a silly little bonnet, and her dress was modest and wide-skirted and brown. Even her eyes must look innocent and stupid.

"Yes, mistress," she whispered. "I promise I've told you the truth."

"Good girl."

"Oh--you're so beautiful," Cosette said suddenly, as the lady turned and made to go. At once, she turned back.

The lady laughed. Her laugh was as strange and evocative as her smile, as clever and professional as her eyes. She reached out one hand--red gloves, Cosette saw--and through the bars of the gate, tilted Cosette's chin up.

"What a nice thing to say. You look like a sweet girl. If any strange person--any persons dressed strangely, or with a lot of big equipment--people who you can tell don't know what they're doing here--if any people like that show up and ask you if you've seen a lady in red, you'll tell them no, won't you?"

"Yes, yes, I will, mistress!" said Cosette eagerly, shivering with pleasure at the touch of the red gloves against her skin.

"You are a good girl." The lady gave another slight laugh. "Good-bye." Her voice hung enticingly on the last word, and she leaned forward and gave Cosette a little, quick but lingering kiss on her little pink mouth. Then she turned and strode back into the street, and took something big and blue from beneath her red coat. She touched it, and there was a sudden loud crackling noise, and Cosette started to hide her eyes behind her hands, but wasn't quite in time. The lady disappeared in a burst of yellow sparking light, and was gone.

Cosette stood pressed to the gate, and stared at the spot where the lady had stood. There was still a trace of bright red on the corner of her mouth from the lady's painted lips.

"Hope Was Still An Open Door..."

Ahaha. Am here at the library, using not one of the lowly public use computers, but the REALLY BIG SHINY OMG one at the desk! I had no idea there was an internet connexion, but Jeanne let me in on the secret. In the future, I shall be good and use the one I ought, but just this once, REALLY BIG SHINY OMG OMG.

Had a wonderful morning with Waen. I admitted to her that I hate Cheerios, and dread the fact that I have to eat the rest of the jumbo on sale box I bought, and she declared that there was no reason at all to eat them if I didn't like them, and directly we made horse treats out of them.

1 jumbo box Cheerios
1 jar peanut butter
several large spoonfuls of Crisco
a bag of marshmallows, melted
grated carrots
an apple, finely chopped
many drizzles of molasses

Mix together, microwave, mix, microwave, put into a wax-paper-lined pan, cover, refrigerate for several hours, remove and chop into bars and then form into balls, feed to horses.

Sam loved them. ^_____^

So did Lily. Falcon and Rosie were indifferent. But it was so much fun, and it was so nice to have yet another good day with Waen. Directly we returned we played Neopets together, and have arranged to do more when I return home (I am working alone to-day, as she isn't feeling up to it).

Now I shall shelve, work the desk, get out some exercise tapes for myself, read children's books by the dozens and generally be busy and happy.

Also, she's said she'll illustrate a children's book if I write one. We've already formed the plot. I am verily excited.

Oh, and Jeanne wants Secrets for the auction. Yay!

"And Meet Us By the Gum Tree Down in the Swamp..."

Also.

When we took all the Cheerios out of the Cheerio box, guess what was inside?

A really shiny red toy racecar.

What did Soujin accidentally shout when she saw it?

"OH MY GOD. Racecar bling bling!"

Without even thinking. >_> My subconscious is out to make a fool of me KILL ME.

"I Know You'll Find a Way..."

Checked out an armful of the best children's books from the library for Waen, because she didn't come. I hope she likes.

We played Neopets and watched The Hunchback of Notre-Dame (the one where Esmeralda runs off with Gringoire and lives 'appily ever h'after) and Waen made beautiful snarky comments; and to-morrow we will watch Fantasia 2000, because it is shiny.

I want to write Frollo/Quasimodo, and probably will. Musical!verse, I think, but maybe to go with the book.

Hate body. Hate body. Book in the library suggested that the appropriate weight for a girl my age and height was a hundred and five pounds, o! Jesus-Christ. Another book suggested ways to wear clothing in order to get the best out of whatever bodily misfortune one has, either in the stomach or the breasts or the arms. A magazine recommended exercise techniques, and another offered low-fat recipes. The film collection has a whole section for exercise films. People checked out and returned books on losing weight, being overweight, dealing with fitness and health.

I am never going to be free, saah. Ne. Argle. *facepalms*

I need a wall to bang my head against so very, very badly.

But this is merely random muttering. I do not think I will have time to hate myself any longer, or at least not this week, between acting and work and library and school and writing and exercising and not bothering to try to have time any longer. It is a tired Soujin, really. It loves to look at things that are shiny and pretty, and wants something pretty of its own.

It really rather wants something pretty to love it. Perhaps it is time to take Paul out again. Paul is good at making one feel loved.

In any event, I do not think I have time to write to-night if I want to get more than six hours sleep, so I shall probably turn in. This peculiar sadness is one that, for once, feels natural. Anyone gets sad once in a while; so do I. It doesn't have to be a crisis or a deep-rooted psychological thing (Mum has decided my obsessiveness about time may not be pretend-OCD after all, and she is getting me Books). It is just natural sadness.

Thank God. And to-morrow, Waen and I will play Neopets again and watch Fantasia 2000.

"Quand tu croises nos chemins..."

Stolen from labelladame...

Post a false memory of me. It can be anything you want, so long as it never happened.