.PEN-PALS.

.chapter 2.

.the first condition.

It was when I was startled awake that I realized I must have at one point dozed while reading, or researching at my desk - as my head lifted, the glossy page of a thick book that lay open, my Encyclopaedia of Discovered Artifacts, peeled off my cheek.

After blinking a few times at the page that contained the image of a stone tablet – almost identical to the one on my computer monitor, I realized that something loud and obnoxious had woken me. What was that noise? Oh, right, the telephone.

As I idly watched the display blinking frantically with the name of whomever was calling, I wondered yet again, why my roommate and I still forked out money for something as archaic as a phone line. I sort of cursed the fact that I wasn't able to sleep through its incessant ringing.

A picture of a wire line phone practically belonged next to the image of that stone tablet I was blinking at again. It was on the verge of an inspiration thought – one that involved tossing the handset out the window, when finally the thing decided to stop ringing.

The display showed that there was a new voice message - seemed oddly fast, then again, knowing Jesse, he'd probably just left a quick, "Yeah, not gonna make it come tonight, Wallflower, so enjoy the place all to yourself" I could hear that lisp even without actually listening to it. He was a party-animal – not sure how he could function after drinking, smoking weed, and sniffing unmentionables.

Whatever those things were, so long as they didn't make it back to our apartment, I was good. Besides, I liked having the place to myself - it was more of a sanctuary without blaring music and gay hissy fits. I would say that when gay stereotypes were being established, my roommate must have been on the consulting team.

What was I doing? Right…I had fallen asleep in the midst of writing my essay. What time was it? I glanced at my laptop's clock, seeing 11:17PM. It couldn't have been more than an hour that I had been asleep…my neck would have been worse for wear if I had.

Releasing a childish but cleansing breath, I tried to regroup my focus. It was upon feeling more awake that I recalled hearing the tell-tale sound of a message having been received via my iMessage application. The sound resembled a cartoon airplane zooming by, or perhaps a space ship in hyper drive…or whatever it was called. Lo and behold, when I looked down at the message icon that resembled two speech bubbles, a tiny red "1" showed I had an unread message waiting. Maybe it was from mom and dad, I thought idly.

Yes. Maybe it was a follow-up to their email? Maybe mom wanted to know what I found out about the tablet? Their on-the-go life-style (and tehnophobia) didn't work well with consistent Internet access so there was the occasion now and again when they would send a picture of this or that for me to look up.

Just the thought of my mother in front of a computer, it brought memories of her getting overly anxious even at the notion of having to use a search engine. Really, both of them knew how researching was something I highly enjoyed, so when my dad snapped a photo of something they passed at a dig or exhibit, I would look up everything and anything I could find about the thing in the sent photo - this situation wasn't any different.

My eyes skimmed over the contents of my inbox, as I nostalgically reread the subject headings from a few of the emails that had come from my parents over the past few months, swallowing a tiny pang of times gone by. It had been years since I had first received a message from them, and just a bit longer than that since I had actually seen them.

My mouse pointer moved to the applications on my computer dock: Now what did mom and dad have to say? Maybe it was another one of dad's artfully described construction of their most recent meal at another European deli, photo included.

I clicked the application to open, and saw the name of the sender.

Nope. Not my parents. And apparently I had, in fact neglected to close the message window previously, judging from the numeric value next to that familiar name from earlier.

PrincessPea112: If you could just…be a bit more patient…I can prove it to you…eventually. For now…I cannot.

Right. You can't. I figured as much, my lips stuck between forming a smirk and a thin line. A part of me couldn't decide whether I should be disappointed. Another line appeared, as if in reply to my uncertain disappointment.

PrincessPea112: I know it is a lot of ask, but all I ask for is more time.

My eyes narrowed. Did I really want to get into this little back and forth again?

With my brain in a half-groggy state, my sleepy gaze wandered to the strewn cue cards about my desk and even on the floor. One was on the chair, partially under my left thigh.

Yeah, I did. I so did.

I took a tentative breath, and then followed it with an encouraging one. I needed a break. After having returned from the library, I had gotten right to work and got at least eight pages of notes into essay form. It was just a matter of moving most of it around. Yes, I did earn a break now, even if to chat with a person who was probably using their Internet privileges at an insane asylum. At least I'd get some entertainment…I gave my fingers a good stretch and typed the first thing that I thought of into the message window-

DrgnSlyr: Okay. So then what do you want?

PrincessPea seemed to consider this. Finally, words appeared, in their usually slow, drawn-out pace.

PrincessPea112: I…I am just looking for a friend.

Really? That's it?

DrgnSlyr: All you want is friendship? You don't want money…or…my Social Insurance Number?

PrincessPea112: I very much doubt, first of all, that our realms share the same currency…and it is insulting to think I would need a commoner to provide that. Oh, and then there is the "how" I would take the money? And as for your Number – whatever that is – I can only assume that it would be one of many things that could not help me with my predicament.

DrgnSlyr: So then…you're just looking for what? A pen pal?

PrincessPea112: A pen pal?

DrgnSlyr: Lemme guess, you don't know that is.

PrincessPea112: Well it sounds odd. What is a pal?

DrgnSlyr: It's…a friend…sort of.

PrincessPea112: Are you saying that we are "sort of friends"?

DrgnSlyr: Hmmm…. Cautiously. I barely know you, remember?

PrincessPea112: All right! What must one do to become "sort of friends"?

DrgnSlyr: Pen pals become friends by writing to each other. You tell me about your days, and in turn, I tell you about mine…

PrincessPea112: But I am forbidden to speak of or disclose things that are here.

Right. That. That is a bit inconvenient…that doesn't exactly leave much pen pal material.

DrgnSlyr: I'm sure you can find things to talk about. Like - things you did before? Before your…imprisonment?

PrincessPea112: Indeed! That might work.

DrgnSlyr: Do you want me to start?

PrincessPea112: Let us exchange names: You already know mine. What is yours?

DrgnSlyr: First name's Faye. Middle name's Meredith (not a lot of people know my middle name). Hope you don't mind I would prefer to not advertise my last name throughout online chat with someone who is actually a stranger?

PrincessPea112: It is of little matter. The link has been established. Names are…irrelevant.

I paused in mid-thought from reading her words, quieting the instinctive warning bells to the farthest reaches of my mind and sweeping them under a figurative rug. I barely managed to ignore the almost ominous quality about how she said that.

To get the ball rolling…

DrgnSlyr: So…how old are you?

PrincessPea112: Old? Oh! You are asking my age - here we measure by seasons. I am nineteen seasons. You are…?

DrgnSlyr: Almost twenty. Turning the big 2-0 in a few weeks.

PrincessPea112: Will you and your family hold a great celebration ball?

I snorted.

DrgnSlyr: Um…no. We don't hold balls here. At least it's not exactly a norm. I mean, we…I can't believe I'm going to actually explain this…what the heck.

Yeah, what the heck. It was like playing a role.

DrgnSlyr: Well, balls are for charity events or snobby people. Normal people usually celebrate with a pizza, or get together with friends…

Not that I've had any real friends since Lana went to England for university, met a guy and had since completely forgotten about me.

PrincessPea112: What is a…pizza?

DrgnSlyr: Seriously?

PrincessPea112: Is that like…a minstrel?

Man, this chick was funny. Hell, why not play along?

DrgnSlyr: No. LOL. It's a kind of food. It's very flat bread, sometimes round, sometimes square shaped, covered in savoury tomato sauce, and then it's topped with all sorts other things like vegetables, cheese…sometimes meat.

I was almost expecting her to ask what tomatoes, vegetables and cheese were. But apparently wherever she was, or whatever role she was playing, these weren't foreign things to her.

PrincessPea112: It sounds delicious. Is it your favourite food? My favourite used to be lamb stew…

DrgnSlyr: No…it isn't my favourite.

DrgnSlyr: What happened? I mean, why "used to be"?

PrincessPea112: It is what he makes me eat all the time. It is his joke, you see. A way of torture?

PrincessPea112: Never mind. Forget that. I have said too much. Can we pretend that I made no mention of him?

DrgnSlyr: Sure. If you want. :)

PrincessPea112: Oh! It is a smile!

I released a giggle, genuinely delighted by her recognition, for the moment somewhat more free of scepticism than before.

DrgnSlyr: Yup. It's a smile. :D - And that is an open-mouth smile.

PrincessPea112: How clever. Do you know that not once while communicating with a potential champion, did any of them use such a method to express emotion in writing? It is such a great idea! Who invented it?

DrgnSlyr: I think it comes from a kind of art used to tell stories… And then it just become a thing.

Princess Pea112: A thing?

DrgnSlyr: Yeah, it…caught on. And these things became popular. It came from Japan, I think.

PrincessPea112: Japan?

DrgnSlyr: Yeah. It's an island country South-East of Russia?

PrincessPea112: I've never heard of any of these places.

DrgnSlyr: …

Why am I not surprised.

And by the look of things, it was almost as if she had never chatted before…such a thing wasn't completely impossible. If this captivity thing was true, then maybe her activities were limited…whether or not her captor was a mental institution or some menacing being, she was a great story-teller.

PrincessPea112: It has been three seasons since I've seen my family. They are trying to find me, I know it, in my heart.

DrgnSlyr: Is your family a lot like you in appearance?

PrincessPea112: Yes, well, my sisters have average light violet hair, the duller silver tinged-variety. My mother's hair is closer to ash – a deeper silver that brings out her azure eyes. My father's hair is like my brothers'. The males in my family bear streaks of silver light and dark.

And if this whole thing was in her head, delusional or not, I was impressed with the complexity of the world she must have been making up: She told me about her life before her captivity, and how she had four brothers and three sisters - and that she was the youngest.

DrgnSlyr: What is your castle like?

PrincessPea112: Do you mean my home?

DrgnSlyr: Yes, where you grew up.

PrincessPea112: I do not know…perhaps light and airy? Very open, warm and friendly. Very unlike the place that now confines my freedom.

DrgnSlyr: Are you able to tell me how it happened?

PrincessPea112: How what happened?

DrgnSlyr: How you were…taken?

PrincessPea112: He…was very upset about something. It was a celebration of my Sixteenth Season. He simply walked in to Celebration Hall, announced that he would take me, and…he did.

DrgnSlyr: How?

PrincessPea112: By bending the fabric of matter around him. Like a beings of power. He made us both vanish.

DrgnSlyr: Does everyone have powers like him in your…realm?

PrincessPea112: Of course not. If we all did, he would not have been able to steal me away.

DrgnSlyr: So he is not your kind?

PrincessPea112: He is not my kind. His hair is like fire. His eyes are like coal. And his smile is empty and void of emotion, like his heart. His kind look very different from most. Please forgive me if I have disturbed you with the image I've painted. And I fear that speaking of him may have consequences…

Ironic, considering how I imagined him seemed a lot less foreign than the way she described her own kind.

We both appeared to assume the other looked something like ourselves. Aside from the wacky hair and eye colours, why wouldn't we all share similar traits? Yet this being's appearance felt more familiar.

It was quite amusing that she expected me to know what "just like all her people" meant, and that I had to remind her that such a relation meant nothing to me. Then she went on to explain that there really was no other way for her to describe any sort of appearance, as she had never met anyone from my "realm" before.

DrgnSlyr: So you really have /no idea/ what I might look like?

PrincessPea112: No.

DrgnSlyr: You mean, for all you know, I could be covered in scales from head to collarbones, have a set of feathery wings and covered in fur from the waist down?

PrincessPea112: Is…that what the people of your realm look like?

Perhaps she hadn't even tried to hide a grimace because it was as though I could actually hear her expression through the words. And I deliberately kept her in suspense, holding off from giving a reply and was actually relishing in her distress (as I imagined it) far too much.

She must have interpreted my silence as a sign of affirmation…and then seemed to jump to compensate…

PrincessPea112: Because…my lands are home to many types of creatures. I am not…asking because the sight would in any way cause me shock of a terrible sort.

I almost felt guilty. Almost.

DrgnSlyr: Don't be silly! I don't have wings! How could I be writing to you if I did?

Now I was snickering to myself. Crazy person or not, this was fun. Again, I paused for extra effect. So now the poor girl imagined just scales and fur. No feathers. Or maybe feathers, but not wings? Maybe she had wings? Or at least she thought she did.

PrincessPea112: …I see.

More silence.

I could tell that appearances weighed heavily on her priorities…was she really this judgmental? Even in Lala Land? Yup.

DrgnSlyr: Relax. I was joking. No feathers. No scales. No fur. Just hair on my head. My eyes are brown - that's average, isn't it? I have a couple of dimples, an okay nose, okay mouth. I think I'm as average as average can be.

Now I could almost hear the sigh of relief that came from "realms" away.

PrincessPea112: It…should not matter what a friend looks like…

DrgnSlyr: But it does?

PrincessPea112: It sounds despicable of me, doesn't it?

DrgnSlyr: I'd be offended if we were friends. It's a tad too early for that.

PrincessPea112: I suppose.

PrincessPea112: But it is possible, is it not?

DrgnSlyr: To become friends eventually? Sure.

PrincessPea112: Great! Shall I tell you more about my family? Or perhaps you could tell me about your next of kin?

My next of kin. I assumed she meant my family?

DrgnSlyr: Well…I'm pretty sure my parents are relaxing, still in bed, sleeping in, maybe. They're ahead by a few hours. It's like seven in the morning in Italy now.

PrincessPea112: I surmise Italy is far from where you are. Do you not…miss them?

DrgnSlyr: Sometimes. When I don't have enough school work, or procrastinate too much. Or when my roommate makes microwave popcorn and the place wreaks of butter grease.

PrincessPea112: Microwave?

DrgnSlyr: Never mind. Do you know what popcorn is?

PrincessPea112: Popcorn?

DrgnSlyr: Guess not.

DrgnSlyr: Do you know what butter is?

Her response to that was almost instant, even if her words came out slowly as if measured.

PrincessPea112: Of course I know what butter is!

DrgnSlyr: I had to ask. LOL.

Now I could sense that she was making a face at that…

DrgnSlyr: Anyway, I've sort of gotten used to being alone. My roommate is hardly ever home. But it's nice to have the place all to myself. It's very nicely furnished. When my parents set off on their tour of Europe, they left me most of the nice stuff. Put the rest in storage.

PrincessPea112: You have a roommate?

DrgnSlyr: Oh, I thought I had mentioned him…

PrincessPea112: Him?

DrgnSlyr: Yes. Him. He rents a room and we share the bathroom, amongst other common spaces. Living room, kitchen - that sort of thing.

PrincessPea112: That sounds…highly inappropriate.

DrgnSlyr: Well it's not like we share the bathroom /at the same time/ LOL

PrincessPea112: Goodness! Of course not!

DrgnSlyr: That last one was a joke.

PrincessPea112: I see.

PrincessPea112: But is it not very…awkward to share residence - that is - such a small area with someone of the opposite…

I briefly wondered whether I should just let her keep struggling to express what she was trying to politely to say…but that decided to put her out of her misery.

DrgnSlyr: Maybe you don't understand…

PrincessPea112: I do not understand?

DrgnSlyr: He…bats for the other team?

PrincessPea112: I…do not understand.

DrgnSlyr: I'm…not his type.

PrincessPea112: His type? Is he nobility?

DrgnSlyr: Um…

PrincessPea112: Because he isn't behaving in a manner suiting his stature - he lacks decorum, class to be tainting your reputation in such a way! Do your parents know of this transgression on your virtue?

DrgnSlyr: -_-

PrincessPea112: What…is that? What is the matter?

DrgnSlyr: It's my exhausted face.

Or deadpan. Whichever.

PrincessPea112: Why ever

I didn't even let her finish.

DrgnSlyr: Helikesmen.

This was followed by a brief silence until I gathered it must have clicked for her.

PrincessPea112: Oh.

DrgnSlyr: There ya go.

Another pause. What now?

PrincessPea112: I suppose asking him to be my rescuer would be a moot effort?

I giggled aloud, genuinely amused.

DrgnSlyr: My god. Did you actually just make a joke? That wasn't bad! LOL!

PrincessPea112: Thank you. |)

DrgnSlyr: What's |) that?

PrincessPea112: It was supposed to be that face with a smile but my pen leaked.

I stared at the screen for an uncertain moment.

DrgnSlyr: LOL…okay.

PrincessPea112: I think I'll need to find a new pen…just a moment, please.

During this pause in our conversation (which had most recently taken a bizarre turn), a wave of sleepy exhaustion washed over me and I was more preoccupied with stifling a treacherous, debilitating yawn.

PrincessPea112: All right. I am back.

DrgnSlyr: BTW, what time is it for you?

PrincessPea112: It's about mid-day here. What is BTW?

So maybe that meant she was somewhere in…China? Eastern Russia? Japan? No, can't be Japan. Then she wouldn't have asked about emoticons. Hm. Maybe this chick is actually from a tiny island very east of Russia, and she's using some funky translator?

DrgnSlyr: By The Way.

PrincessPea112: Oh. Thank you. Good to know.

PrincessPea112: Perhaps once we are friends, you could assist me in finding a rescuer? He doesn't have to be able to ride a horse.

Okay, so much for the funky translator idea.

DrgnSlyr: I'll tell you what: I'll keep my eyes peeled.

PrincessPea112: That sounds highly unnecessary and quite painful.

DrgnSlyr: LOL! Yes it does. It's really a strange saying, now that I think about it.

PrincessPea112: Strange saying, indeed! Is it simply to express you shall keep a look-out for a potential champion?

DrgnSlyr: Yes Your Highness lol…Anyhow, I think I'm going to head to bed now. But maybe we'll talk later? :) I've gotta get up early in the morning.

PrincessPea112: Your realm's speech is strange…and very interesting. But I do hope we speak again soon…Good night to you as well.

As I grabbed a hold of my mouse in determination and made to close the conversation window with my finger poised on the powerful little mouse button. But then, funnily enough, I decided against it. It was almost as though I had invested way too much into this now. I had crossed some sort of invisible alternate dimensional crazy threshold.

Obviously not that of anything resembling friendship. So for now, until I figured out exactly what was going on, and how loopy this person was, the window would remain open, even if and when my Macbook was closed.

# # #

Three weeks, four days, one hour and forty-three minutes. That was how long I had known Parthenia. Or Princess Pea, to be more precise. Or rather, less precise in this case. To be more precise would have meant addressing her as Parthenia Eris Amata, Princess (of the Great Valley or some other world that I couldn't be sure existed.) For all I knew, I could have been the butt of her joke all along, because she was actually a he, dressed in a fluorescent blue moo-moo eating frosting out of a can with cheese puff stains on his face.

A major turning point came the day I visited the museum for the first time in ages. Parthenia kept me company over texting on my phone as I made my way from one piece to another. Such visits occurred at intervals when I would feel homesickness almost suffocating me. I never actually left my hometown to pursue a higher level of education by attending a post secondary establishment, but it was vastly different now without my family around.

DrgnSlyr: The particular one I'm standing in front of has unseemly roundish, fuzzy blotches of multi-coloured paint. I think they're supposed to be an expression of how alone we all are in our uniqueness.

PrincessPea112: Is that what the artist claims?

DrgnSlyr: I'm not sure. I just made that up. It's completely ugly and I can't tell whether the shape near the bottom is supposed to be an animal or just happens to bear a resemblance to one…

PrincessPea112: Oh, we have a similarly questionable piece of art hanging in our throne hall. It is of a great uncle who was said to have lost an eye in battle and was given one made of glass. Either the court's artist was severely inebriated or partially blind, because neither eye looks like it is his.

It was hard not to giggle at that. I wondered how long it had been since she'd seen that painting. And then I got to thinking about what sort of art this menacing being preferred, if he was the sort to have art in his castle or fort…or whatever. That is, if we're all continuing with these pretences…

DrgnSlyr: Is there any art where you are now?

PrincessPea112: There are a few very life-like statues in the garden…

DrgnSlyr: Life-like?

PrincessPea112: You asked about the art.

DrgnSlyr: Are they art?

PrincessPea112: They are now.

I shuddered.

Freaky.

Something told me that real or not, I did not want to hear more about that, unless I wanted to risk nightmares. It was downhill from then, really. Almost every piece of art I saw, somehow reminded me of this alternate menacing world where a helpless, innocent princess was held prisoner. My mind somehow always conjured an association to everything I saw.

Yet, the museum still held old memories, serving as a therapeutic remedy that would cure the homesickness with pure nostalgia. The old museum was the place I had always visited with my parents over the course of years prior. Even if the exhibits had changed with time, the structure itself comfortingly reminded me of the days when my mom, dad and I routinely walked between those familiar stone pillars and upon the same, century-old granite flooring.

But it wasn't the visit itself to the museum, but more so what occurred afterwards on the way home:

The day was coming to an end, the sun burning amber upon the horizon as I made my way down the large stairs at the foot of the massive century-year-old structure.

PrincessPea112: Are you heading home now?

DrgnSlyr: Yup. If I'm lucky, Jesse isn't home.

PrincessPea112: Do you get along with him, when he is?

DrgnSlyr: Yeah, but I'm so used to the solitude.

PrincessPea112: What are you doing now?

DrgnSlyr: Boarding the subway.

PrincessPea112: Is that the train beneath the ground that you told me about?

I didn't realize that I had stopped walking until someone from behind bumped me and hopped through the door just before it closed, before I could actually get on. Dumbfounded, I watched the train pull away and depart, leaving the platform virtually deserted, save for a few folks making their way up the stairs to street level. I was processing something strange and shockingly disturbing.

No. It was utterly idiotic to even consider…My eyes locked onto the two words that were displayed on the top area of the screen of my iPhone: "No Service".

Maybe it was a fluke. Yes. A fluke. No, I shouldn't have been able to send any messages if my phone had no service…And if it was WiFi, it wouldn't read "No Service". But then maybe I hadn't been messaging with Princess Pea for the past fifteen minutes at least, without a signal…maybe my phone's signal connected to someone's network by some weird, explainable but unknown to me sort of way. The simplest explanation was usually the right one.

To think anything else was utterly and totally ridiculous! I refused to believe that she was a princess in another realm. It had to have been some technical glitch. There had to be a logical, scientific explanation!

The most disturbing thing, I thought, about this situation was that a part of me wanted it to be real, even if it had a really, really far-fetched chance of being that. I wanted her to be a princess, not some lunatic…but wasn't there a happy middle ground?

DrgnSlyr: Yes.

Yes. Yes, there was.

As for the last few minutes, my message was sent and read by Princess Pea and my phone still showed lack of service. Could be a display error… My brain was in the midst of trying to solve this little puzzle. It had to have been a display error. I decided not to dwell on it…

PrincessPea112: We have nothing like that in my realm. You have horses, though, correct?

Okay, so I would be lying to myself if I claimed I didn't want it to be possible. But I could and would totally settle for an awesome RPing buddy.

DrgnSlyr: Yes.

PrincessPea112: And dragons?

Right. Dragons. Yeah. I like this world. Not original, but she needed credit for being this creative.

DrgnSlyr: Dragons, huh?

PrincessPea112: Now do you see why your name is so misleading?

DrgnSlyr: I…can see that!

DrgnSlyr: That's…pretty neat.

PrincessPea112: Neat? Hardly. Rather, it's more chaotic and dangerous. They make a terrible mess of everything.

DrgnSlyr: Neat is…just an expression. Like "cool", remember?

PrincessPea112: I see.

Every single conversation that I had ever had with this person had been a very interesting one; it was astounding at what level she was applying her role-playing skills (or the disturbing level of crazy?).

Still, I wanted to convince myself that Princess Pea wasn't crazy…but just an amazing RPer. In which case, I could freely feel that we were friends! Technically, I could see no difference between her and Calista…whom I had been neglecting nowadays.

This was what I had been contemplating once our conversation died. I was traveling back home on auto-pilot while repeatedly re-reading our exchange over the past month or so, and trying to solidify my not-crazy-but wicked-RPer-theory…

If I could pinpoint the exact moment in time that I realized that the dynamics between me and Princess Pea resembled friendship, it would have had to be then. Yes, it would have had to be the point that was immediately, if not instantly followed by stubbing my toe on a book-like object that hadn't been there before, and must have randomly and most mysteriously appeared in my path of the dimly lit corridor as I had been making my way back to my bedroom.