7A/N: I don't know what I'm thinking. I'm supposed to be finishing ABCP. But I'm so stuck with something. So while I struggle through that block, I will try to work another piece that I've been thinking about for a while now. This is based on The Riddle - another story I wrote a while back. That was a short story but this one is like its longer version. I've more or less got the characterizations down and major plot elements. Not sure when updates will occur for this one. I'll see what sort of feedback I'll get about it and decide. I may remove and not continue if I get too many bad posts. :D It may not be worth it to pursue.
Well, here we go. Thanks for stopping by.
.PEN-PALS.
.chapter 1.
.contact.
All sorts of anti-spam, anti-virus, and anti-malware software exist to keep a computer hard-drive and the identity of its user safe. I'm pretty certain that there are no such preventative measures I could have used against the type of intrusion I was about to experience via a chat window.
Or, perhaps in some Karmic way, (as if the arctic, frigid climate of the city reference library hadn't been enough) I got what I deserved, because in that span of time allotted at the aforementioned library, I was supposed to be making most of the quiet environment to work on some god-awful, boring thesis I had chosen on Archaic Symbolism for my Archeology Undergrad. (What was I thinking?) Instead, I was wasting time, surfing the 'net, doing everything but using my time wisely, when I got that first, fated private message through my iMessage window:
Gr8MageAverlin: ((Are you online tonight?))
No, not that message. That was my friend, Calista. I had to bite the bullet, I supposed…I gave my watch a glimpse and knew there was no way around it, this time. This was cutting it close - I couldn't procrastinate any longer.
DrgnSlyr: [[Hey Calie. No, I'm at the library, trying to catch up on that school thing. Don't think I'll make it home by the usual time tonight.]]
Gr8MageAverlin: ((You mean, we're going to have to play without our brave dragon slayer this time? That sucks. It's so laaaaaaaaaaaame without you!))
DrgnSlyr: [[Do not guilt me, Cal! Hey, maybe you can find an actual guy to take my place this once?]]
Gr8MageAverlin: ((Faye, I thought you /were/ a guy when we first started RPing!))
DrgnSlyr: [[I'm flattered…I think? LOL!]]
Gr8MageAverlin: ((Are you feeling guilty yet?))
DrgnSlyr: [[Mildly. Thanks FRIEND. I think you'll survive. :D]]
Gr8MageAverlin: ((Ttyl X3))
No, the message I was referring to was the next one that came after ten minutes of messaging silence:
PrincessPea111: Hello?
In the ten minute or so window, I had been trying to ease out of procrastination, by randomly following links of mild interest, until I wound up on a very popular site that allowed users to post their own videos. I was mildly distracted by some cute animal videos when that message window popped up. I stared at the the thing, trying to recall whether the user was a contact in my email or I had simply seen that name anywhere on any blog…but I couldn't bring myself to get past her borderline gag-worthy/adorable handle. It somewhat reminded me of that kid's show where all these story-book characters restored words and stories with magic. Sorta lame.
I made no reply, but continued to stare at that one word. Then another line appeared, and I was then slightly entranced by how slowly the person was typing their message; one word every few seconds. Princess Pea was a slow-typer.
PrincessPea111: Dragon Slayer? Are you there?
Still, I made no reply, now preoccupied with the chosen, tiny icon next to the user's name. The small image looked like a mix between a sun and a star, the palest of yellow in shade with many layers of long, thin and pointy arms. Maybe this was another user from that Historical Symbols discussion blog I joined last week? Perhaps this user was from there, and judging from their handle, their interest was specifically in the branch of Faerie Tale Imagery I recalled seeing listed on the boards. Almost convinced, I decided to finally type a reply, without any "out of character" indicators.
DrgnSlyr: ?
Okay, so, not much of reply. But it was a way of expressing the curious look I knew I had on my face now and how I was feeling.
PrincessPea111: Is it really you?
Did she have me confused with someone else, I wondered. It was tempting to retype a question mark yet again, but I went with what I would have actually said to such a question.
DrgnSlyr: Um…Do I know you?
A few seconds later, a first word appeared, and then another…again, I watched the words slowly appear, one by one.
PrincessPea111: Please answer my question first! Well is it? Or is it not? I gravely, urgently need to know!
Okay…? I shrugged, trying to swallow my irritation but failing, slightly.
DrgnSlyr: *shrug* Okay, sure. It's me.
Whoever that is…
PrincessPea111: Sure?
Was I sure whether I was me? Is that what she was asking? I couldn't quite understand this situation. I was socially retarded at times, true, but even I could tell that this situation was heading from weird to absurd. What does a person do at a time like this? Why, act as if nothing is out of the ordinary, what else?
DrgnSlyr: What's up?
PrincessPea111: Up?
DrgnSlyr: Yeah, what's up?
PrincessPea111: I am truly sorry but I do not know what you mean by that question. The sky is "up". The sun is "up". The ceiling is "up". If I am on my bed, the back of my head on my pillow, the bottom of the bed's canopy is "up". If I stand on my head, my feet are "up".
I felt my eyebrows lift.
Okay…?
I stared at the message for a bit, the hint of boredom overcome by my once-tiny, now-growing-irritation. It felt like this someone was playing a childish game with me. Flabbergasted, this is where I lost the tiny bit of patience and clicked the little x next to the "PrincessPea111" on the list of message in the iMessage window to end the conversation. It was begging to be put out of its misery.
And that was that. Guess I would never know what they wanted. Oh well.
By now I had decided to mosey on back to the blog I had joined a while back, in a gallant effort to perhaps retrace my steps and refocus on the task of researching my thesis – even perhaps find out where I might have come in contact with this mysterious person, and my attention was caught a new entry in the "Archaic Symbolism" blog. Ridden with guilt from slacking off for last hour or so and eager to finally get back to doing actual work, I clicked the link. Or maybe I was simply enticed by the prospect of regaining the feeling in my toes outside of the building where it was nice and warm…note to self: opt out of wearing flip-flops next time when library time is on my agenda.
As I waited for the page to load, the message window popped up again.
PrincessPea112: Please do not do that!
Getting passed the feeling of indignation at a tone I initially imagined was behind this newest message, I felt my brows crease together in confusion from the desperate quality of her words. Then I shrugged them off, now associating her exclamation with what must have been her annoyance from my not replying to her previous message. There was no way she could know I closed the discussion. About to click the little x again with my pointer, I paused and then reconsidered, when it occurred to me that I liked playing games, too.
DrgnSlyr: ?
This princess person seemed unfazed, though.
PrincessPea112: You closed the communication! Please do not do that!
So much for her not knowing I closed the discussion…How the heck would she know I did that? And I just noticed then… why did the number part of her handle increased by a digit? Weird.
DrgnSlyr: …
PrincessPea112: I cannot keep making attempts. Eventually I will run out of them!
Run out of attempts? Attempts at trolling people? I rolled my eyes. This was now veering past absurd…to surreal. Not sure why I felt the need to apologize or even bother with formalities…but maybe I thought it would get her off my case more quickly and have her go on her merry way…that is, if this was a her to begin with…
DrgnSlyr: Okay, whatever. Sorry about that. Now how can I help you?
PrincessPea112: Are you truly a dragon slayer?
An abrupt and loud laugh escaped me. The stout librarian sorting through a stack of books on a cart nearby peered darkly over her shoulder in my direction. I mouthed an apology at her, which seemed to placate the plump woman enough to return to her duties, and allowed me to return my attention to the screen.
DrgnSlyr: LOL...uh, no.
The silence dragged on and at first it seemed like she wouldn't be replying. But then she did…
PrincessPea112: What does LOL mean?
Not the response I had expected. Seriously?
DrgnSlyr: What you said made me Laugh Out Loud.
PrincessPea112: Oh, I see. What a strange way to abbreviate. So then my question was amusing?
This person must be living under a rock.
DrgnSlyr: Uh…yeah.
PrincessPea112: Why?
DrgnSlyr: Why was your question amusing?
PrincessPea112: Yes. Why?
Why am I not a dragon slayer? Because you're a moron.
DrgnSlyr: Because there are no such things as dragons…for one thing.
PrincessPea112: But…then why do you name yourself such?
DrgnSlyr: It's…just name.
PrincessPea112: Just a name?
DrgnSlyr: Yeah, like yours. You're not actually Princess Pea, I'm guessing.
PrincessPea112: It is merely another abbreviation. Like your "LOL". So yes, I am.
I paused, my jaw slack-open. Was this person serious?
DrgnSlyr: You're a princess?
It was a flippant question meant to bear a flippant tone, but the message failed to be that, I assumed. Right, the drawback of messaging is that it tends to lack tone.
PrincessPea112: Yes. I am Princess Parthenia Eris Amata of the Great North-East Valley.
I blinked. Right. And I'm Rapunzel.
Oh Hell…this interaction just made my procrastination that much easier. How was I supposed to think about a dry thesis when I was so amused?
DrgnSlyr: Cute. What's with the 112?
PrincessPea112: It is not "cute"! And I would still be on my 111th session if you had not closed the connection on us.
Briefly I wondered whether she meant "us" as in her and I or in the royal sense. In any case, her reply didn't exactly explain what she meant by her numbered session, but I was starting to think that this was the least interesting mystery in this little conversation.
Maybe she was on some obscure little computer with a strange browser that only allowed a certain number of instances or sessions chat? I couldn't even imagine such a deal. Still, a miniscule wave of sympathy persuaded me to explain my actions.
DrgnSlyr: I "closed the connection" because this conversation is weird. But it is since I believe I have a sense of humour that I've allowed you to humour me, so far.
PrincessPea112: Fine then! Just…please, please don't leave! It's been so long since I've had any hope.
Melodramatic much?
DrgnSlyr: Hope for what, exactly?
PrincessPea112: Well…how do I begin? You see, I am in search of a rescuer.
DrgnSlyr: LOL. Are you in a tower?
Again, another thing that would have come out flippant, if only I had spoken it. And yet again, written out, the question sounded like a completely plausible, logical thing to ask. At least this princess thought so.
PrincessPea112: What is so amusing now? And I do not reside in a tower. But it would help if I were in one, I suppose…towers are more easily accessible, I think, for the rescuer.
For the first time I began to consider that perhaps Princess Pea was a turret short of a castle. but since this was beginning to feel more and more like I was participating in a 'make your own adventure' thing and my thesis wasn't due till next week, anyway, what harm could some well-needed and fun diversion do?
I brought my feet up out of my flip-flops and tucked them beneath me. This was getting interesting (I completely disregarded my question for the sake of satiating my own childish curiosity.)
DrgnSlyr: Rescuer from what?
PrincessPea112: From an ill-fate.
Yeah, you said that before. I huffed air out in annoyance at her incessant vagueness.
DrgnSlyr: What sort of ill-fate?
PrincessPea112: I cannot tell you that.
DrgnSlyr: Then what /can/ you tell me?
PrincessPea112: That I need a rescuer. I found you through your realm's directory of…I am not quite sure how. Are you…a prince at least?
I blinked in dismay. Was this really happening to me?
DrgnSlyr: A…prince?
PrincessPea112: A prince. A son of a king. A man of royal heritage?
DrgnSlyr: …I /know/ what a prince is.
PrincessPea112: Then, I sense there is something the matter…
Ya think?
DrgnSlyr: This conversation is the weirdest online chat I've ever had.
PrincessPea112: I do not know what to say to that. I suppose your perception could have a lot to do with the fact that I am not of your realm…
DrgnSlyr: …my realm?
Who talks like that?
PrincessPea112: You never answered my question.
DrgnSlyr: Which…question?
PrincessPea112: Are you a prince or not?
Again, the librarian glared at me when I snorted rather loudly. How to answer this…
DrgnSlyr: Seeing as I'm a girl…no.
PrincessPea112: A girl dragon slayer?
I could actually hear her making a face.
DrgnSlyr: Um…Didn't I already clarify that the dragon slayer bit was just a name?
PrincessPea112: It is very misleading. And rather dishonest, you know.
The option was either keep hitting a dead horse (about the dragon slayer name bit), or inquire about something else that had caught my attention and felt like was more worth exploring:
DrgnSlyr: Wait…explain this whole "realm" thing to me…
PrincessPea112: I…cannot.
DrgnSlyr: What do you mean?
PrincessPea112: It is forbidden.
DrgnSlyr: Forbidden? By what?
PrincessPea112: Not by what, but rather by whom.
DrgnSlyr: Okay, then by whom?
PrincessPea112: Him.
DrgnSlyr: Who's HIM?
PrincessPea112: I cannot say.
DrgnSlyr: What /can/ you say?
PrincessPea112: Well, it would seem I've wasted this attempt. I honestly thought you were a prince.
DrgnSlyr: Sorry to disappoint you.
PrincessPea112: You you should reconsider adjusting your name so this uncomfortable situation doesn't occur again.
Because up till this point, it's been an every-day experience, I thought wryly. I decided not to keep beating that dead horse.
DrgnSlyr: So…you need a prince. Not sure I quite understand the situation. Why do I need to be a prince?
PrincessPea112: I thought I told you this already. Why must I repeat myself?
PrincessPea112: To save me!
DrgnSlyr: I'm so confused.
Or disturbed. I can't decide just now.
PrincessPea112: It is simple. I need a champion, a rescuer. Ideally, I need to find prince. I'm reaching out in any way I can render to seek out this rescuer. It should all be clear.
DrgnSlyr: Okay, so maybe I…do understand what you're saying…but you sound really…delusional. No offence intended, of course.
PrincessPea112: Well, being locked up for a few years tends to make one behave as though they may be delusional.
I was about to ask her to elaborate on the "locked up" part but another line quickly followed.
PrincessPea112: Do you…know any princes?
Fictitious or real? Because I'm familiar with plenty that were introduced to me by Disney.
DrgnSlyr: …not really.
PrincessPea112: What do you mean by that?
DrgnSlyr: Oh…you must mean /personally/. Then no.
Princess Pea seemed to give this reply some thought because there was a pause in the conversation.
PrincessPea112: Explain.
Yes, Your Royal Pain in the butt Highness.
DrgnSlyr: …Let's pretend you don't know anything about the Royal Family…there are a couple of princes. But they're more celebrities than actual heirs of sovereignty. I don't know them. I hear about them sometimes. They appear in magazines…in the newspapers or on television.
PrincessPea112: Do you mean they are like Figureheads?
DrgnSlyr: …sure. Yeah.
There was another pause in the correspondence before the next line appeared.
PrincessPea112: …what is a "television"?
I guess the mention of the Disney princes would have been pointless, anyway.
DrgnSlyr: …
Hell, if this person didn't know what a television was… this has got to be a joke.
PrincessPea112: I am not sure what you mean by "…".
DrgnSlyr: In this case it means I'm stunned speechless. This is extremely bizarre - you don't know what a television is, you talk of different "realms" and you say you're looking for a prince. You do understand how this all must sound for me? It's freakin strange is what it is. I'm… having just a bit of trouble believing everything I read.
PrincessPea112: Please understand. It is very simple. I need a prince to free me from an ill-fate. He needs to come to my realm and rescue me. Are you able to offer me any assistance with that?
Fine. Prove it.
DrgnSlyr: Prove it.
A longer pause than ever before followed.
PrincessPea112: Excuse me?
DrgnSlyr: Prove you're a princess. Prove…you are in another realm. Prove it.
PrincessPea112: …
DrgnSlyr: Stunned speechless?
There was no flippancy-failure in my intended tone this time, I was sure of it. Good. I was quite getting sick of the surreal nature of this chat.
Seconds turned into a minute. And that fleeting minute was followed by a couple more. Each of the minutes that followed passed progressively slower than its predecessor.
Now I theorized that there would be no more replies. Pity. That was sort of fun. This rather disappointing turn of events forced me to return to the tedious task of researching for my thesis…damn.
"Loony…" I grumbled out as I reached into my bag to pull out my hoodie. I almost managed to convince myself that the goose-bumps were just another symptom of the too-cool temperature. I shrugged the chill off, and maximized the browser window for the link I had clicked, which had now finally deigned to open.