Spinning around, she internally raged at me. Her facial features were set stubbornly neutral, even her eyes were controlled, almost literally oozing out indifference. Almost.

By the Winds, her emotions were like ominous waves of molten lava, slow and patient, but smouldering hot underneath. Terribly destructive, or at least to things that couldn't continually heal and regrow, namely me. Her body tensed and although her hands were loosely hooked on the pockets of her jeans, her muscles betrayed her state.

I laughed, after all it HAD been a while since civilisation had reared its head at me, and I was still adjusting and socially rough around the sides. Give a guy a break, I've only been back for fifty.

"Liking what you see?" I let my tongue slip out and lick my lower lip. She swallowed, eyes darting to and away from the sudden movement.

"Well, considering the age your body looks-"

"Oh you have been looking at that, have you?"

"-fairly old and rather leathery, I suppose you could be a few hundred or so years old, give or take a few minutes."


His eyebrows arched. "Excuse me?" He stretched and stood, towering over me.

He paused, "I've decided." There was a determined, steady gaze, his jaw set in a disturbing manner that worried me slightly.

"Uhhhh…what would that be and are you even in a position to have decided it? Decide it? Deciding it?" the trip to the outer regions of English grammer befuddled me momentarily.

He sighed, as though I had just proven every and all decisions he would make, correct. "That you're stupid and-"

"EXCUSE MEEE?!" Now that was a roar one could be proud of. :D

"You find ME stupid? I'm not the idiot walking around scaring helpless girls, throwing them into the dirt, calling yourself three thousand years old,-"

"Actually closer to four thousand," he interjected, "I've forgotten what the exact number is. And I wouldn't call you helpless." Smirk.

I discover a fierce glare isn't enough to turn the smile on his face south, " -HOWEVER OLD YOU CLAIM TO BE, and wearing a full outfit on a BLISTERING hot day! I. AM. NOT. STUPID. Slow, yes. Dumb, maybe a little. Incoherent, occasionally. Inelegant, self-defined. Helpless, me girl you boy. BUT NOT STUPID.

You call me stupid, I call you insane.

Done deal? I'm going home."

I stood and grinned in triumph as he stumbled backwards.

"Thanks for the funn, but it's getting dark and I want to go home." I turn and head away from the swings.

"Who were you trying to convince, me or you?"

Don't get me wrong, I know the significant mind blowing intentions behind that line, but the truth is, I've heard it before a lot. And when I know the answer, it's not so mind blowing.


"I'm hooooome." "WELCOME HOME DARLING!"

Dad emerges from the kitchen, pot in hand and bright orange, frilly apron tied firmly around his waist.

=_= "What's that? Daddy, what's that tied around your waist?"

"Isn't it just FABULOUS?" ;D

"You've been watching too much Runway on youtube, your mind has gone to mush." I sigh and shuffle into his study.

"Whatcha doin', honey?" I ignore the shiver my daughter side has and turn on the desk lamp. "The package from this morning, I want a look. It was something like a mirror or glass etching, right?"

\(^o^)/ " That's right, deary! Uncle Sanders sent it to me."

The smoke alarm goes off and while the butterfly father dashes back, I lean over the glass mirror, surprisingly smooth and unmarked, despite its old age.

"You really have a sharp eye, Tessa. As expected from MY daughter3." he laughs gaily, darting from the sink to the stove with bowls of water. "It's from the Scottish highlands, maybe thirteenth century? According to Uncle that is." He starts to hum the Aeroplane Jelly jingle, oblivious that I've just numbed all over with shock.

"Thirtee…thirteenth CENTURY?" I shot up from the desk and lurched into the smoky kitchen. "Daddy have you seen it?"

He looks at me confused, "What's wrong? No, I haven't seen it yet, I went to make rice balls for lunch^-^. Yummy Yummy Yummy x3"

0_0. "Dad, this mirror isn't scratched, the frame hasn't rusted a bit, there are no indents or signs of accidents on the mirror, THE SURFACE IS BLOODY SHINY!"

As much as you, dear God, may not realise, but that means it's a fake or you've tampered with this shiny mirror by some act of miracle. Seeing as Uncle Sanders is NEVER wrong, I think you've been a naughty boy lately, dear God.

Talking to myself is interesting, allows me to revise the facts presented to me. Goodness knows how many times I've had to do that. I've decided I should stop using His name.

Now, my father might have seemed gay to a few of you Gods just then, but to clarify, he's not committing any homosexual/so-called-by-you-'sinful'-acts, he likes to connect to his feminine side, that's all^-^

Through his bright orange, frilly apron which he manages to hang on to, even if shredded into pieces and tossed over a cliff. Oh I tried. In first grade.

I'm sorry. Frazzled Courtessa means a very, VERY, irrational being/human/monkey/girl/clump of cells.

Daddy frowned, untying his apron.

INNER ME THAT IS UNAWARE OF CURRENT CATASTROPHE: HUZZAH!

"That's IS strange." He hurried into the study, trailed by a heavy, grey cloud of burnt food.

"….uhh…Dad. What were you doing, at the stove? WEREN'T YOU MAKING RICE BALLS?"

There are many things in this world I do not understand.

One: my dad's failure to cook, even as a man.


I got tagged with 'strangeness' TT^TT

Exhausted, I collapsed onto my king-sized, fluffy bed. Dad said he'd email Uncle Sanders and confirm, but didn't want to wake him up with a call, seeing as it was probably two in the morning in Scotland.

I made chicken instant noodles for our dinner. If I had been bothered, I would've made pasta, or more appropriately, ordered pizza delivery. This is what our stomachs and fat supplies get for living in cooking neathandrals.

Logging onto my messenger accounts, I did my usual routines; checking new movies, dramas, news and books. Not finding anything interesting, I checked several online users on various websites and read the newest chapters.

MESSAGING

HULLALUYAH: HUZZAH.

Monkey-diablo: -,-

HULLALUYAH: ^-^ hiya monkey- whats diablo? :O

Monkey-diablo: I have no idea. Mindmush.

HULLALUYAH: ahhhh. I'm hungry. Do you have food? OwO

Monkey-diablo: Im hungry too you know. Dad made rice balls on the stove.

HULLALUYAH: wait. He actually MADE some?

Monkey-diablo: ….no. I don't think he did, LOL

Prettybub: looks like someone had instant noodles for dinner~

Prettybub: lemme guess again: CHICKEN.

Prettybub: I'm good, I know.

Monkey-diablo: …shut it, that's cos you buy it for us on your weekly trips for raspberry yogurt.

HULLALUYAH: GAHAHAHAHAHAHAH STILL STONED ON THEM RASPBERRY YOGURT? Kiekie

Prettybub: says lady who can't spell "HULLALUYAH" ;P

HULLALUYAH: EXCUSSAYYY?…

Sue me for thinking this, but if these things don't get repetitive and boring, I guess you're really immortal and live in a shiny ice castle.

NEW MESSAGE

Porfousan: I don't have one, but I guess that having one wouldn't be a crime.

Uhhhh…What?

Porfousan: confused? You should stop saying things out loud. One day, they might hear you.

Something strange is going on and I'm suddenly really scared to turn around.

"Stalker."

He throws his head back, his silky hair falling around his broad shoulders. "My dear, trim your vines. It was the easiest I've ever climbed."

I sighed, "I'm not even fazed by this, I get bored of it all so quickly. Your appearance, your manners, just get out the same way you came in."

He paused, and nodded with a sense of revelational epiphany. "Either you're bi-polar or you're lying and pretending."

I smile cynically, without any energy nor purpose.

I never thought I would have to climb another terrace again, not in this age of high-rise buildings and prison-like houses of straight and shapeless walls. Stretching my muscles, I watched the girl, no woman, drift listlessly from the desk, to the wardrobe, and finally in front of me. Her eyes wandered across me, out the open window. The soft brown ovals that had widened in surprise and annoyance earlier drooped and flickered, the irises empty.

It broke a man's heart, no matter how old or how accustomed to tragedies he was, to watch this broken bird.

Cold fingers curled around his shoulder, holding onto his shirt as she leaned forward, past him.

"I don't know."

She closed the shutters and walked to her bed, dismissively flicking her fingers to the side.

"Leave whenever you want, the way you came in."

She switched the computer off, turned the radio gently louder, and began to shrug her singlet off. Emerging from the bathroom changed, not showing the slightest awareness that she had almost stripped in front of an-almost-stranger, she slide beneath the covers and closed her eyes.

Half an hour later, her breathing slowed, finally asleep.

Walking towards the sleeping Courtessa, I too began to breathe slowly, releasing the tension in my fists. It had been eons since a woman had slapped me into shock, without so much as touching me. Where had the woman who stood straight and took my outrageous claim to immortality with the full force of her belief in the existing? The one who ran without a care, black hair streaming like a river behind her, had disappeared.

The one who had looked as if she would never tire, never falter in her awe and admiration for the world around her. That every day brought another experience, more happiness.

Gazing at her sleeping form, I laid a small pebble and a letter on her bedside table. Leaning forward, my hair brushed against her cheeks, "I'll come for you."

I left through the door. I was not climbing down the vine, this was no tower. I was sure that this was no princess and she was trapped further than any structure could hold her.

Closing the door, I left.

She opened her eyes.

"I'll be waiting."