radio414

“Yeah... yeah, I know. I guess it’s nice just to hear it from other people sometimes,” Elizabeth said. But what did she mean by that? Melissa wasn’t sure. Was this a sort of “I’ve heard that before” sort of comment, like a “thanks but no thanks?” That wasn’t unlikely. After all, Melissa had only parroted something she had heard before and stumbled around the rest, so Elizabeth certainly could have heard it before. But Elizabeth kept going. “My mother would be so proud of you.” What did she mean by that? “You’ve got your baggage too.” Now hold on - She almost said it out loud, a sudden outburst that Melissa liked to think seldom happened, though this was the second time in as many conversations with Elizabeth. What was it about her that lowered Melissa’s mental blocks? Like, it was something that probably was fine by itself but, well, the question still remained. Was it how pointed she was? Each question, no, each statement, each word always seemed to be driving at something, even if neither of them realized it at the time what it was or even that she was doing it. Or maybe it was just Melissa getting used to a new person, though she didn’t have any trouble like that with Gabriela, did she? Or Jun or Yusuji or…? “Maybe you’ve got good timing after all.” “Elizabeth, wait, what did -” All the other things Elizabeth said, the offer to pay her back (again), the almost-determined statement to face her pain, those things did matter -- Melissa wasn’t about to say that they didn’t -- but it was that final statement that finally prompted Melissa to actually say something. So of course it was also right when Elizabeth crossed the threshold, then around the corner, out of sight. The irony was not lost on Melissa. She would have spent more time reflecting, maybe on how easy it would have been to say something sooner, maybe she would have wondered if she’d actually said the right thing at all (it was all she had!), but instead her focus was pulled by a buzzing coming from her pocket. She’d forgotten to silence the group chat. Two penguin soldiers walk into a bar then one flips out and they both go home It was a step up from insults, at the very least, but still, just… why? Like, she expected some amount of off-topic discussion in the group chat -- she could barely hold a conversation with one person, let alone ten -- but the ratio of on-topic comments to off was literally zero. That was to say, as soon as it had been created it had devolved into complaining about school and easy jokes. How could that not be at least a little disheartening? Melissa was already in a down mood after her surprise weighty conversation, but it was a little difficult watching one of the few places she could express herself (if only a little) disappear into, well… this: just gonna rush recklessly into puns huh Melissa started wandering again, even cutting through the patches of green between paths on campus in an effort to get to nowhere in particular even faster. She couldn’t enjoy herself that much, though. Even after silencing her phone and putting the Community Service Club as far away from her mind as possible, that only invited Elizabeth’s last remarks back in. “You’ve got your baggage too.” Like, maybe, sure, but did she really have to say it like that? At best, Elizabeth had compared her own trauma to what, a little anxiety? At worst, it was a flippant remark designed to hurt and their relationship wasn’t as developing as Melissa had perceived it. The “At worst”, or close to it, seemed more likely, if Melissa was being honest with herself. Elizabeth was an upperclassman, after all, while Melissa was a lowly sophomore. Melissa providing a distraction from whatever ailed Elizabeth at the moment was just that: a distraction It wasn’t like Melissa was the best judge of relationships, anyway, so who knew how far off the mark she really was? No! She had to be better than that. There had to be some sort of mutual trust there, there just had to be! People didn’t ask people questions like that without at least being acquaintances first, and not the kind of acquaintanceship that would break if a question like that had been asked. Or her outburst a week ago at CoffeeCards. That, too, could easily have soured first impressions to the point of no return. But it didn’t, and neither did this. Neither would this. But what if… Forcing herself not to think about it was difficult because what else was there to think about? Or do besides continue doing what she was doing, which was wandering and having self-destructive thoughts? She could look around and explore campus, but what was there to look at besides- oh hello, what was this? Lying on a park bench just off the path was a small red notebook. It wasn’t an unusual place for a notebook to be, all things considered, though it was unusual for there to not be a human with it. And when Melissa looked around, she didn’t see anyone who was looking for it or coming back or anything to that extent. It was just a curious little notebook. “Or suppose a woman has ten silver coins and loses one. Doesn’t she light a lamp, sweep the house and search carefully until she finds it?” -Luke 15:8 (NIV)Melissa held the notebook in her hands and took a closer look. It had certainly seen better days; the cover was a little scratched and a lot worn, there was a little water damage on the fringes, and the binding was falling apart. That was a good thing, though. That meant it was well-loved, that it had an owner that was looking for it. She went to flip through it, looking for a name, and found one right on the inside of the front cover. “PLEASE RETURN TO SAI KAMEZOOKA” was written right there in, well, it was legible scrawl, at least. Melissa tried not to read more, but on the opposite side, there was a drawing of a ninja. Oh, was that supposed to be based on a card? Melissa didn’t know any Sai Kamezookas (or was it Sais Kamezooka?), but she was pretty sure they didn’t want her flipping through what could be deeply personal to them. But at the same time, what was she supposed to do with it? They could be back at any minute looking for it, and if she wandered off, even to a lost-and-found of some kind, who was to say when they might get it back? No, the best plan was waiting around. If Sai Kamezooka didn’t show themselves by the end of the day, then she’d figure out what to do with their notebook. Until then, she sat down next to it and tried wait and watch the world go by.

Melissa’s brain was still firing out “call of the void” suggestions even as Elizabeth started moving again (“We really need to stop running into each other like this.” “Oop, let me just sneak right past you.”), so she didn’t quite comprehend everything that Elizabeth was saying. She heard the words, sure, and she got the basic gist, but the complete idea still eluded her. When Elizabeth said, “I’m not sure if I’m meant to be in there,” that was something Melissa could sympathize with, but that didn’t soothe her worry. If anything, it just made things worse. But then, of course, came the question. “Have you ever lost something irreplaceable?” Elizabeth said. “I mean, how are you ever supposed to know when it’s okay?” Surely she was allowed to think about it, right? What was she supposed to say? Everyone was looking at her with this expectant look on their face like the answer was obvious, or worse, that she should think the answer was obvious, but they weren’t her, they didn’t think like her, and it’d be great if everyone would just stop staring at her and let her think about it in peace for even, like, five seconds. But that was how it always went in Catechism class. Somebody would have an idea, some way to develop themselves and their classmates on a spiritual level; Nick and Katie, eager to foster such growth and big believers in the power of self-discovery, would support it; and everybody else, either out of an obligation to follow the crowd, true piety, or some combination of the two, would readily agree. Melissa was in that third category, very much not wanting to cause a scene and also frequently interested in the activities the group did together. But that didn’t mean she didn’t want to think about it first. The choice was always the same. Either she didn’t go and consequently felt guilty for not participating, or she took what could be a massive risk. Like, sure, she knew Nick and Katie and everybody else well enough. She could handle being around them, but other people? Hell was other people. And it could only become more and more hell the more other people there were. For example, for their latest excursion, they’d all taken a tour of a nearby mosque/community center. Melissa had been apprehensive, but the only “other people” had been their tour guide and they had mostly spoken to the group as a whole. And she’d learned a lot! So yes, there occasionally was something to be said for charging into the unknown. This, though… This was different. What was she going to do? Seriously! What a question to drop on someone out of nowhere. Melissa just spent the first few moments taking it in. She hoped Elizabeth would afford her some time to think, at least for a little bit. She even said as much, though it came out more like “Hmm…” or “Uhm…”. But even that was borrowed time. If it was a deep question, it was also an important one, the kind that needed to be answered. There was no “I’ll have to get back to you on that” about it. Elizabeth was clearly looking for an answer and Melissa felt -- no, was -- obligated to give her something. “‘Something’ or ‘someone?’” Melissa said. She knew the answer already. Everyone knew the answer already. It was a desperate lob into Elizabeth’s court, a grab at more time to think. Even then, she felt she had to justify it. “A lot of somethings- A lot of somethings can be replaced. I know you, uh, said- asked, sorry. Um, I know you asked about irreplaceable things, and I’m sure there are, but most, uh, a lot of things- I think a lot of things can actually be replaced. “But you weren’t asking about things, were you?” “What do you do when you lose someone close to you?” That was what Elizabeth was asking. That was what the question was “We’re going to Mister Stevens’ funeral, right?” It was Peter’s idea -- it seemed like it was always Peter’s idea, though that was probably only fuzzy hindsight. He was Melissa’s opposite: always outgoing, always eager. Even when he was being a bit more serious, saying things like, “I think it’d be good for us as students and servants of The Lord to experience the entirety of life’s mysteries,” he always had the slightest hint of a grin. And he was genuine about it, too. If it were anyone else, Melissa might have wondered what his motivations were, but Peter had already laid them out. It was that earnestness that had brought her other two classmates on board as well, which in turn had inspired Nick and Katie, leaving Melissa as the only hold-out. It wasn’t like they hadn’t been invited. Not even an hour ago, at the beginning of mass among all the talk of Bible studies and the upcoming Vacation Bible School summer camp, Mrs. Gracie Stevens had invited the entire church to “celebrate the life of her husband, Howard, this coming Friday.” If it had been a regular of the church, if it had been somebody that she knew, then Melissa wouldn’t have hesitated. But Howard Stevens, or “Old Man Stevens”, had been a Christmas and Easter sort of person who left after communion with barely a nod to anybody else as he marched down the aisle and out the door. His wife had a better attendance record but she frequently left early as well. Melissa, of course, immediately jumped to the worst-case scenario. The Stevens clearly had very busy social lives and Gracie had only invited the church as a formality. There was the expectation of being asked, but not actually one of attendance. Those who did would be surrounded by several close friends and family members, each of whom would ask the same question: “How did you know him?” “We went to the same church,” she would reply. They would frown. “I didn’t think he was really all that religious,” they would say. And then what? The best she could come up with -- it wouldn’t work, but it was the best she could do -- was “It was only occasionally, he wasn’t someone devout of faith Elizabeth’s words rang in Melissa’s mind. There was an expectation there. She was supposed to be, if not spiritually wiser, at least slightly more experienced with the concept of loss and salvation. And to be fair, Melissa thought Elizabeth had every right to have that expectation. That was what happened when one of the key events in your religion was the death of a holy man. Father Gregory would have had an answer by now. He probably got questions like this all the time. Melissa imagined him guiding the questioner, walking through the chapel and up to the altar, or maybe they’d just sit in the front-row pew, side by side. He would explain to them how he understood their struggle, how he never liked “God’s plan” as a response to a tragedy, but the alternative was consigning death into the unknown and unknowable. And he would do it with a quiet, solemn confidence that Melissa could never hope to match. He and the querent would pray together afterwards, a prayer Father Gregory would end with a single beatitude: Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. -Matthew 5:4 (NIV) So went the lyrics of hymns playing in the background as the catechism class somberly entered the funeral home. Melissa was among them, of course. The social pressure that already was there beat out the potential, larger pressure that might not be. It was a pretty small room. It was smaller than Melissa had been expecting, at the very least. Outside of a rather ornate urn, it was a pretty bland room as well. The walls were a soothing beige with only the occasional landscape photo providing any sort of highlight. Folding chairs -- the metal kind, the kind that probably everyone had seen at one point in their life -- had been set up, though, at the moment, only one person was sitting in any of them. Gracie Stevens sat with hands folded together in the center front, slowly rocking back and forth. She wasn’t crying, Melissa noticed, nor were their lines on her cheeks indicating she had been recently, though there wasn’t really a non-sadness emotion she could attach to her expression. “Are we early?” Peter said. They weren’t, but it was still a fair enough question, given how few other people there were. In fact, aside from the catechism group, Father Gregory, and Gracie Stevens herself, the room was devoid of people. And in a moment of clarity, Melissa finally started to understand. The congregation hadn’t been the last people Gracie Stevens had invited, but the first and only ones. And the only ones who were going to show up already had. The hymn faded out and everybody was silent. Melissa wondered if that was because everybody else had realized what she had or if they were waiting for somebody else to make the first move. Were they waiting for her? Surely they knew her well enough that- Melissa took a step forward, then another. If she was guided by anything, it was sympathy, because what else did she have? She could feel the rest of her class’ eyes on her as she kept moving through the quiet, but for some reason, that didn’t seem to bother her at the moment. This -- whatever she was doing -- was more important. She kept going until she sat right next to Mrs. Stevens, who turned a turned towards her and nodded with a polite, superficial grin. “Hello, young lady.” Mrs. Stevens said. “Thank you for coming.” “I’m sorry for your loss,” Melissa said. “I’m so sorry Elizabeth. I really am.” Melissa almost didn’t realize how tremble-y her voice was. But she was finally speaking -- she finally had something -- and there was no backing down now. “Um, but that seems like something you’ve heard too many times already,” she said. “No, it’s not an answer, and I didn’t- I don’t expect it to be one. But your first question… I haven’t lost anyone, Elizabeth. Not like- not like you have. “I feel like, because of that, whatever advice- whatever help I can give you is going to feel hollow. All I have is what somebody else told me. I’m so afraid you’re not going to like it, but, um, it’s all I have: “It’s always going to hurt.” Father Gregory had stepped aside, allowing Mrs. Stevens to say a few words. Specifically, he had said, “And now, Gracie would like to say a few words of remembrance,” but her opening line made it clear that wasn’t exactly the case. Gracie Stevens was standing almost straight, addressing the few attendees with an even voice. “It’s always going to hurt,” she said again. “If there’s anything I want you all to take away from this, it is that. I’ve lost daughters. A son. What friends Howard and I did have. It always hurts. It doesn’t get any easier, even if you think it might. Even if you know it’s going to happen. Especially if you know it’s going to happen. That actually makes it worse. “Howard was, well, he wasn’t the most compassionate man, even I can admit that at times he could be too gruff for his own good. At best, he was liked, but never well-liked, if you can understand that. I admired him, though, well, for a lot of reasons, but most of all I loved how he was always, at the end of the day, worried about other people. If he yelled at somebody or complained, he was always looking out for their best interest. “‘It’s always going to hurt.’ I remember he said that to me after my mother died. “Don’t let anybody tell you that it shouldn’t, that it’s been too long or anything like that. There’s a void there now, one that can’t be filled or ignored no matter how hard you try,” Melissa said. She closed her eyes, trying as best she could to remember it all. “But if you’re not careful, that hurt, that void, that’ll just swallow you up, too. What you’ve got to do is look at the parts of you that are left and do the best you can with them. It’s hard, oh sweet Mary is it hard. But the alternative, well…” Mrs. Stevens turned around and placed her hand on her husband’s urn. “I’m the last one,” she said. “I’ve put so much into this life, lost so much, sometimes I feel like just a tiny, tiny person. That’s all that hasn’t been taken away from me.” She paused and took several long breaths. “I’m glad you’re all here,” she finally said. “Goodbye, Howard. I’ll see you soon.” ... “I don’t know, Elizabeth,” Melissa said as she opened her eyes. “I can empathize. I can pretend I understand. I can even, maybe -- and this is a hard maybe -- talk about the theology- the metaphysics of it all. But that’s all I have. If that gives you anything, I’m glad. I really am.” What else was there? Lunch? Had Elizabeth offered a meal? It seemed like so long ago, Melissa almost wasn’t sure. She agreed with the other part, too. It would be nice to not have to worry about something like this every time she met somebody, if that were possible. It probably wasn’t, but it was nice to think about. But she couldn’t talk about that now. Now, it was a foreign subject, so far removed that the offer might as well have been in another language. She’d remember it for later, maybe, but now? Right now, Melissa just hoped Elizabeth didn’t collapse on her.

Don't have a cow, man.

I spent so much time looking for the killer, but it turns out the killer was inside me all along.

I'm just saying, if I wanted anybody to rep me, it probably wouldn't be the dead guy.

I bet being dead means he'll take a huge hit to his rep. EDIT: Thanks for the rep!

Of course it was Tormented. I'm never wrong. Just ignore the times I've been wrong before this.

Excuse me?

Half bumping this thread, half re-answering this question because, well, I started watching more anime. Basically what happened was I finished Super Danganronpa 2 (and let me tell you, I have o p i n i o n s) and found out that the conclusion to that particular storyline was in anime form. After making my way through that (P.S. even more o p i n i o n s), I realized that, while I still can't really binge-watch like I used to, I still like the act of consumption, if that makes sense. I mean, I still go out of my way to watch a bunch of movies, and episodes of things aren't dis-similar, at least. Anyway, I still don't watch too much and what I do is all stuff that's escaped into popular consciousness at this point. In a way, I feel like this this xkcd comic, but instead of video games and hardware limitations, it's anime and my ability to tell if it's any good or not. The stuff I watch is stuff that's already been deemed "good," so I already have a positive bias towards it. Despite that, I assume the inevitable question then becomes, "What are you watching right now?" and, like, I definitely am not the person to be giving recommendations, but my current three shows are Cowboy Bebop, JoJo's Bizarre Adventure (just entered the Battle Tendency arc), and Revolutionary Girl Utena.

lol

New King Gizz, only two/three days old at this point.

In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans. And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for God’s people in accordance with the will of God. -Romans 8:26-27 (NIV) For the first time in a long while -- not since that morning, as far as she could remember -- Melissa opened up her phone and checked on the Community Service group chat. It had slowed down since earlier when she’d had to mute it, but that didn’t mean there weren’t a bevy of messages from phone numbers she didn’t have that probably at least needed to be skimmed just in case any of them did have relevant information. Boy do I love writing papers. Someone ask me how much I love it doing homework on a wednesday wow what a narc lol p sure thats not what narc means but okay They did not. It was a nice feeling, just walking around. Melissa didn’t even put in headphones or anything, she just focused on putting one foot in front of the other and keeping an eye out in case she was about to run into anyone. Or, if she included Gabriela from earlier, anyone else. She didn’t have a specific route in mind, either. Every so often, she’d turn left or right, but only because that was where she felt like going in that specific instance. If there was a pattern, some grand design behind her route, it certainly wasn’t hers. “Idle hands are the devil’s plaything.” Again, that phrase came to mind, and again, Melissa ignored it. It wasn’t like she was completely idle. Her meandering route had led her past several posters advertising the weekend’s festivities, and it was starting to dawn on her that she might have to take part in some way. Like, would she have to run a booth? A bake sale? Volunteer? Melissa reopened the group chat. Typing a message out would mean interrupting the in-depth conversation on exaggerated insults and their etymologies, but her need took precedence. Hey, does anyone know if we’re doing anything as a club this weekend for the festival? she typed. She got a response only seconds later: lol who is this? She tried again, sending a similar message this time only to Connor. Are we doing anything for the festival this weekend? It took significantly longer for Connor to respond, and Melissa spent most of the intervening time alternating between checking her phone and telling herself -- reassuring herself, even -- that he’d get to it as soon as she stopped checking. But every time she slipped her phone back into her pocket, she’d feel a buzz and the cycle would only continue from there. Her walk had taken a different sort of mood than it had when she had started. Long, meandering turns this way or that were replaced by sharp jags and the occasional stop-and-start if she was absolutely sure she had gotten a message that wasn’t from the group chat. When Connor did respond, it was a meager five syllables in as many words. Nope! Just go have fun the text said. Melissa wasn’t sure what to make of that. Was this another one of Connor’s pushes to get her to “come out of her shell?” Or was it an admission that he couldn’t, that no matter what he did, Melissa would inevitably end up longing to cloister herself away from it all. The more Melissa pondered Connor’s message, the more she wondered if she’d have to confront him about any of it. It seemed rude to do so over text, but the next time she was sure she’d see him was at the next club meeting, which wouldn’t be until after the festival in question. So there wasn’t really any resolution. The matter just dropped. Melissa realized she’d been going in circles. Or maybe it was just one giant circle, but the point was when she looked up from her phone, she was out near the duel team’s meeting area again. Not much had changed in the intervening half-hour (at most); possibly the biggest difference was that there were fewer people outside. Which actually made sense once she'd thought about it. The meeting had probably already started at that point, so everyone was probably just inside. Melissa even spotted Elizabeth right as she was about to go in. She had a hand on the door’s handle, and… And Elizabeth didn’t move. To be more specific, she wasn’t moving. As soon as Melissa realized this, she did the same, stopping dead in her tracks and just staring at Elizabeth, just willing her to start moving again. It didn’t work -- because of course it didn’t work, why would it? -- though it did at least confirm Melissa’s growing suspicions. The approach was easier this time, at least, physically. Melissa was less concerned with whether or not she should and more with what she was even supposed to say. Her go-to of “Are you okay?” had served her well, but she still remembered how Elizabeth had reacted only a week ago (not to mention how she herself had reacted after that, though she didn’t want to think about that part…). So that was out of the question, but what else was there? Her brain could only think of call-of-the-void-type options, the kind she dared not say, but still for some reason thought of. “It’s a pull door, actually,” for example. Or “It’s probably not going to say, ‘Who’s there?’, you’ve just got to open it.” Or even just a simple “Boo!” “Hi” was too casual. “Excuse me” was a bit too impersonal. “Let me get that for you” didn’t really address the prob- “Elizabeth,” Melissa said, which was good enough. She could only wish that Elizabeth also heard her silent plea, the prayer in her head that revealed her intentions, if only to whoever in Heaven was listening. “Talk to me, Elizabeth,” Melissa thought. “Please.”

Isn't the host the guy who gets murdered in Clue? So there's a precedent. Anyway, I think it was Broken in the Kitchen with the Candlestick.

Sure, though I'd rather use this avatar instead of my current mod fun times one.

Brothers and sisters, do not slander one another. Anyone who speaks against a brother or sister or judges them speaks against the law and judges it. When you judge the law, you are not keeping it, but sitting in judgment on it. There is only one Lawgiver and Judge, the one who is able to save and destroy. But you -- who are you to judge your neighbor? -James 4:11-12 (NIV)Things were going well, all things considered. Despite bungling every moment she’d been expected to speak, despite how poorly Hiraku seemed to regard Gabriela, he’d still agreed to help set them in the right direction. Melissa felt a little bad about judging Hiraku based on his reputation rather than - Gabriela grabbed Melissa’s arm, causing her to flinch and derail her train of thought. The contact disappeared just as quickly, but the derailment remained. Her thoughts instead drifted towards something Gabriela had said before. “Your willingness to escort me is proof enough of your loyalty,” she had said. Loyalty. It was a concept Melissa associated with the routine. She went to church every Sunday because -- among other reasons, of course -- Melissa was a loyal member of the congregation. If she went elsewhere, if she shopped around, a lot of the same descriptors would still apply to her, like quiet (of course) or pious (she hoped!), but “loyal” would no longer be one of them. There were other, similar considerations too. Melissa imagined two lovers promising to always be loyal to each other, or a knight swearing their service to a king. But no matter how she framed it, each scenario involved someone who’d otherwise be lacking. Who was the lacking person? Melissa assumed Gabriela meant her, which was fair enough. But as her mind wandered on, she realized that even the groups never really were treated like groups in those scenarios. When Melissa was loyal to the church, it never felt like she was really “loyal” to the other specific members of the congregation, or to the ushers or anything like that. To Father Gregory, maybe, but again, that was a single person. So “loyalty” meant two people, each needing the other. Both of them were mutually getting and receiving something. Melissa was happy enough just being of help to someone. It probably wasn’t exactly true but she didn’t want to- she just didn’t want to think about it. And Gabriela? More words stuck out to her: “I would love the company of course,” Gabriela had said. But that would mean - No, no, no. Gabriela had been the one to chase after Hiraku in the first place, after all. And even before that, she’d been the one challenging Hitomu (Of all people, Hitomu!), or before that, announcing herself to a crowd . At the very least, there was a self-assuredness there that Melissa could barely fathom. It was just a wayward thought, anyway. Meanwhile, Hiraku and Gabriela were heading off, and Melissa quickly scurried after them.It wasn’t the place they were going to try next, though Melissa was thankful that it at least had been on her mental checklist. Hiraku pushed through the doors first, with Gabriela and Melissa following dutifully after. Melissa scanned the room. Most of the faces looking in their general direction seemed more interested in Hiraku. The few that were looking past him seemed more disappointed or expectant than anything else. As she continued to look, she didn’t see Hitomu anywhere. That was probably what they were looking for. Hitomu not being there meant something else as well: “We made it,” Melissa said. On time, or, at least, not later than its leaders. She hadn’t known what time everything was going to start, but she was glad for Gabriela, at least. “I, um,” What else was she supposed to say? “Have fun” or “Good luck” were the nice, good options, though they felt a little superficial. Was there anything better? It came to her eventually, though there were more steps involved. She had to riffle around for a pen and paper, and she could feel some rising awkward tension as Gabriela watched, as the distance between her last phrase and the now increased, but she ended up with ten digits in a hasty scrawl. “If you, um, if you need anything else,” Melissa said as she gave her phone number to Gabriela, “give me a text. Or a call, I guess. I won't always be able to help, obviously, but I'll definitely try.” She made sure to thank Hiraku again for helping them, too (did she thank him before? She must have, right?), and watched as they both joined the crowd of people waiting for whatever was going to happen next. What was going to happen next? Not for the duel team, but for Melissa? She left the building and simply continued to stroll around campus. It was a nice day for it, after all. So she wondered and wandered, and for now, at least, that was enough. If there was anything else, she’d take it as it came.

The very first plan, the very first impulse Melissa had as she chased after Gabriela, was to grab her -- by anything she could get her hands on -- and pull her away. It was a dumb plan. It wasn’t the worst, but it was close. It wouldn’t have worked anyway; Hiraku already knew they were there. Well, he already knew Gabriela was there. He was already looking around, but his eyes glazed over Melissa. If she left now, just disappeared from the scene, she’d escape whatever terrible fate Gabriela had gotten herself into- No, that wasn’t a good idea either. It just… did she really need to justify that one again? To herself or anybody else? It was just a tiring process, and it wasn’t an option at this point anyway. It just wasn’t! “Oh, it’s the chuuni,” Hiraku said. Which, from what Melissa had heard, was probably him pulling his punches a little bit. She couldn’t imagine anything worse, but she wasn’t Hiraku. “Why do you need an escort anyway?” That was her: “The escort.” It wasn’t how Melissa would have put it -- “escort” had at least one usage that she definitely wasn’t -- but there was no way she was going to say that out loud. Not to anybody, especially not Hiraku. If she could just get through this with the knowledge that he could only attach a title to her at best, she’d consider that a success. “Normally it would be more than this but I graciously offered you and Melissa the honor of doing it yourselves.” Well, now he knew her name, so that was- that sure was something. Gabriela even turned to her for a follow-up question, so there was even the association between the name and the face. What was left? That he just wouldn’t remember her afterwards? Melissa, almost unconsciously, let out a tiny squeak. That seemed like too small of something to hope for. Gabriela’s question still echoed in her mind. “This is simply the proper way to do things, yes?” she had said. And yes, Melissa did suppose that anyone of importance would have multiple people following them around, but that wasn’t really why she’d been following Gabriela. It was a minor distinction, but she hadn’t been following Gabriela because Gabriela had wanted her to, but because she -- Melissa -- wanted to.You belong to your father, the devil, and you want to carry out your father’s desires. He was a murderer from the beginning, not holding to the truth, for there is no truth in him. When he lies, he speaks his native language, for he is a liar and the father of lies. -John 8:44 (NIV)Hadn’t she just said she didn’t want to lie by omission? Agreeing here seemed just like that, the only obvious difference being that Gabriela wanted her to this time. Her obligation to not lie wasn’t to her, of course, but it felt like there was some weight there. So she was just stuck. And even if she did make a decision, what was she supposed to say? Melissa made a few noncommittal gestures. A nod, a shrug, a whatever. It was better than just standing there with dinner plates for eyes and a bit lip. I didn’t work, of course. Gabriela was still staring at her expectantly and Hiraku… she didn’t want to even think about what he was thinking. Time had long since run out for this to be anything but awkward, but she still had to go for something. “I would expect as much, but…” Melissa said. An “um” came out soon after, but there really wasn’t a follow-up to that “but” for a good while. Even then, it was, “No, never mind. Um,” which was probably worse. “I’m sorry I’m not much help.”

Demon Kitty Rag by Katzenjammer

“Then Jesus told them this parable: ‘Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Doesn’t he leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it?’” Luke 15:3-4 (NIV)Letting Gabriela take the lead was a surprisingly difficult task. Her version of “I shall take the lead!” seemed to be staying just a half-step ahead of Melissa, constantly looking back to make sure that Melissa was going the same way. If Melissa deviated even slightly from a straight line, Gabriela would tsk and beckon her to continue onward. The very first place Melissa and Gabriela checked -- almost on a whim more than anything because, you know, they found themselves in the area and they might as well -- was Maximilian Crawford Arena. Melissa almost brought up that this was where they had first met. The key word there, of course, being “almost”. It was such a cheesy line, and what was the point anyway of reminding her of something that happened what, two weeks ago at most? So instead they wandered the area without any of that small talk and, of course, didn’t find much of anything. Their next attempt took them to the surrounding dueling zones. A few of them were in use, drawing attention from the occasional group of spectators None of them looked familiar to Melissa, though, and when she asked Gabriela, she scoffed. “I have only been in this realm so long. There are scant few whose faces I've come to know on sight… these are not them.” What other places were there? They hadn’t quite checked all the dueling zones -- the remaining ones were pretty far apart from each other. It wasn’t impossible, but… -- nor had they actually gone over to the gymnasium. Gabriela was still in the lead, though now that Melissa was more used to the arrangement, she didn’t seem to check on her procession as much. So when Melissa stopped in her tracks, it took Gabriela a good five more steps before she noticed. “I don’t want to- Not mentioning this would be a lie by omission, your majesty,” Melissa said. “Um, I do know that person over there is on the duel team.” She gestured over to a silver-haired boy. “But it’s Hiraku Tsukino, and if it’s all the same to you…” There were so, so many reasons Melissa never had an interest in joining Blue Yonder’s acclaimed duel team, and Hiraku -- or, at least, Hiraku’s reputation -- was at least seven of them. If Melissa were the exact opposite of the sort of person she was, she imagined they’d get along really well. But she wasn’t, they’d never met, and she really really hoped that for the remainder of his time on campus, they never - Gabriela was already on her way. “You! The loud one!” she said. “Why have you not come to escort me to the meeting? It is improper to make one such as me go anywhere without company.” Oh no. They’d already met. Of course they’d already met, he was probably signing people up last week. How could she be so stupid! Melissa continued to berate herself, but she still chased after Gabriela. Whatever was about to happen, it couldn’t be good.

Terribly Stable by Hey Ocean!

This Thing by King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard Fiiiiiiiiiiine you can have Tank!. But only because I like figure skating. Tank! by Yoko Kanno and The Seatbelts

Roundabout by Yes Is it a meme? Yes. Is it a banger? Also yes.