![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
39th Teddy Bear [voice/action]
[Elicia had been sleeping next to Gracia off and on now, after papa had left. She thinks maybe it makes her mama better, that she's close and there. And like so many other days, Elicia gets up and rubs her face, bleary-eyed and ready to start the day. Only, what greeted her was the silence of a empty, blue room; the essence of it—everything that made it her mother's—was sucked out. All she had was a pillow behind her and a blanket clutched in her hands, and for a moment, she doesn't understand.
It takes some time before she finally does.
The house is really quiet. Winry and Ed must be doing the things they do every day. She numbly leaves the bed and goes into the bathroom, stripping down like always, turning on the water and being careful that she doesn't make it hot. She gets soap in her eyes, but it's okay, because it washes out. When that's over with, the clothes come next—it's a dress, and she puts her ties in her hair, trying to make them match evenly on each side; it sort of looks right, she thinks, so she goes to the kitchen and uses a chair to get to the cabinet so that she could get the cereal box. And then the milk. Spoon and bowl. She doesn't make orange slices because the knives are bad and off limits. And then she sets the table and eats fast.
It's all wrong. But she's had nightmares about a day like this, only soothed when she woke up and looked at her mother, or wandered into her room in the dead of night, just for a look. But now nothing's left in her mama's room, and the fog of loneliness pushes on her from all sides as she sits on the couch and waits for something to change.
Over time, she lets herself cry. It builds up like a wave traveling toward sand, gradually peaking as the force carries it. It's okay, she thinks. She'll come back, or papa. They wouldn't just leave her behind for long. Not even the malnosso could change that about them. Right? They'd come back and there wouldn't be any reason to cry.]
[Voice]
Mama—
[She breathes in, voice watery and unsure. Everyone had to do things like this. This was the right thing to do. This is what people here had to do sometimes, for the ones they loved. She inhales a shaky sob.]
Gracia... Hughes... Went home.
[It's weird to say her full name like that. She doesn't like it. But she has to be grown up right now.
Later in the day, she'll be out working on the garden Raine had helped her replant, and has no intention of going inside until the sun starts dipping low. She doesn't really feel like playing today. A lot of her presents from the birthday are left scattered in her room, where she's left them from the night before Gracia had left.]
It takes some time before she finally does.
The house is really quiet. Winry and Ed must be doing the things they do every day. She numbly leaves the bed and goes into the bathroom, stripping down like always, turning on the water and being careful that she doesn't make it hot. She gets soap in her eyes, but it's okay, because it washes out. When that's over with, the clothes come next—it's a dress, and she puts her ties in her hair, trying to make them match evenly on each side; it sort of looks right, she thinks, so she goes to the kitchen and uses a chair to get to the cabinet so that she could get the cereal box. And then the milk. Spoon and bowl. She doesn't make orange slices because the knives are bad and off limits. And then she sets the table and eats fast.
It's all wrong. But she's had nightmares about a day like this, only soothed when she woke up and looked at her mother, or wandered into her room in the dead of night, just for a look. But now nothing's left in her mama's room, and the fog of loneliness pushes on her from all sides as she sits on the couch and waits for something to change.
Over time, she lets herself cry. It builds up like a wave traveling toward sand, gradually peaking as the force carries it. It's okay, she thinks. She'll come back, or papa. They wouldn't just leave her behind for long. Not even the malnosso could change that about them. Right? They'd come back and there wouldn't be any reason to cry.]
[Voice]
Mama—
[She breathes in, voice watery and unsure. Everyone had to do things like this. This was the right thing to do. This is what people here had to do sometimes, for the ones they loved. She inhales a shaky sob.]
Gracia... Hughes... Went home.
[It's weird to say her full name like that. She doesn't like it. But she has to be grown up right now.
Later in the day, she'll be out working on the garden Raine had helped her replant, and has no intention of going inside until the sun starts dipping low. She doesn't really feel like playing today. A lot of her presents from the birthday are left scattered in her room, where she's left them from the night before Gracia had left.]
[voice]
Hey. D'you want some company? I can bring over lunch. [Elicia doesn't live alone now but she does live with two people who have mastered their odd money-free Luceti jobs, and might be busy.]
[voice]
[Any and all company. Anything to distract, even if it'll inevitably fail for her.]
[voice]
[voice]
[voice]
Okay. I'll be over in a little while.
[Maybe she'll bring some other things too. She already has an idea of something they might do to distract her.]
[voice]
[Ah, she made a mess making breakfast earlier; this is a good time to start quickly cleaning up her messes, before Sheena might see it. It's not very becoming, leaving stuff laying around.
Mama always said you should clean up your messes.]
[voice]
In the promised little while, there's a knock at the door, followed by a muffled, "It's me," in case Elicia gets too freaked out to answer the door for a potential stranger.]
[action]
Hello, Miss Sheena...
[She goes on ahead and opens the door.
The kitchen is very clean, at least! Or close enough.]
[action]
[And maybe she doesn't wanna be in her empty house.]
[action]
Y-yeah! I'd like that... If you wanna go outside!
[action]
[action]
[It's a pink and blue blanket from her room that she quickly brings out, quilted and just recently washed. She thinks it's comfortable, so... so maybe this one will do just fine!]
What else should I bring?
[action]
[action]
[She taps her chin, thoughtful. What else...]
I could bring some dolls... Or something to draw with... Or I could bring a book...
[action]
[And Sheena would totally read to her if asked.]
There was something I was gonna show you after we eat, too.
[action]
Something to show me?
[action]
[Free hand extended.]
[action]
She's just glad there are hands she can still hold, right now.]
Alright...!
[action]
Her goal is to find a nice sunny spot for this blanket somewhere, and spread out lunch and try not to say anything that might upset her smallest friend.]
[action]
Where's places you like to sit, Ms. Sheena...?
[action]
Is right over there okay?
[action]
But not too much sun, because then it burns your skin... You'd have to wear sun screen then...!
[action]
I don't think the sun's strong enough to really give you a sunburn. If you start to get too hot, we'll just have to go get really big hats. [A smile. Elicia would look adorable in a sunhat thing, for one, and for another she hopes the mental image could make her smile too.
Once the blanket's down, Sheena puts her bag of food in the middle of it and starts taking things out. Sandwiches, fruit, juice. Cookies. Not at all what she would have picnicked with at home, but Lloyd and Colette said this was "real picnic food" once.]
[action]
Really really big sunhats. They can be as big as umbrellas...
[She looks down at the food, suddenly feeling a little hungrier--it looked good, after all...]
[action]
Go ahead, you pick a sandwich first.
[action]
[action]
[action]
[action]
[action]
[action]
[action]
[action]
[action]
[action]
[action]
[action]