Friday, Medusa and Monet, Tabitha and Monet

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Medusa and Monet, Friday morning." OOC: I have a little version of Reggie on my desk at the moment.



Monet was curled up on the couch in her suite, contemplating the universe as represented in a series of little men made out of paper clips and blue tac. They were surrounding the sacred fire (red nail polish) and facing the sacred idol (a hairbrush) and preparing to sacrifice the .... Monet paused and looked around. The sacred coffee cup.

Medusa opened the door to her suite and sighed. She still had a suitemate. Somehow she still managed to hope that she'd come back to her room and find out that it was all a bad dream. Plastering on one of her usual neutral expressions, she strode into the room. "Greetings Monet. I trust your day was well."

"It wasn't bad. We're," and Monet waved at the little blu-tac people, "celebrating the sacred festival of ... Coffeum." She picked up one of the little people. It had a scrap of paper stuck to its head as a hat. "This? Is the priest-king of the Nailpolishus people and he must
appease the gods," Monet pointed to herself, "that's me or his people with suffer." She paused. "It's entirely possible that I've got an exam coming up?"

Not only had they given her a roommate, they'd given her a crazy one to boot. "Right. Of course. I see." Inwardly, she cursed the social graces that would make walking away without at least attempting a conversation. "Finals are always an unpleasant period. What course are you currently avoiding?" Medusa asked politely.

"Commerce. All of it. There's rather a lot of it. Multiple courses in it, in fact. What are you studying? I don't think I've ever asked."

You haven't. "I am currently engaging in coursework on language and linguistics at Columbia. The degrees in Attilan are not the same as in America, so I am not quite sure how to translate it." Medusa's eyes flickered to the table with Monet's set up and back to meet her roommate's gaze.

Monet nodded. "Nice. It doesn't transfer over, does it? We had trouble just figuring out what year I was supposed to be in when I arrived the first time." She picked up one of the little people and dipped him in some glitter, smooshing it onto him. "Would you like to be the Great Destroyer? Or the God King?" Monet was almost laughing as she asked.

"Are you asking me or him?" Medusa asked. Yes, definitely insane. At least she's not vomiting anymore. Only another two months until I get to return to Attilan. "Ah, G-d King. So him of course."

"You, of course. Let's call him Reggie? It's a nicer name than just 'miscellaneous blu-tac king'." Monet passed Reggie over. "They," and she pointed to the little people, "have. Um." Monet looked blank. "Displeased me somehow?"

Ok, not just insane, but certifiable. "How interesting." Medusa walked over to one of the bookshelves in the suite's living room, a strand of hair reaching out to select one text followed by two others.

"Oh, Medusa! You have spurned me. I am filled with woe. Woe!" For some reason, Reggie had a Pakistani accent that wandered into Irish.

"Indeed. Woe. I see." Medusa wondered if her mother would be horribly put off if she started using the teleporter to go home more frequently. Which of course, she would, so the redheaded Amaquelin was stuck at Xavier's with her roommate and the little people. "Perhaps you could convince," her gaze flickered to the table again, "Reggie to write your paper for you."

"Medusa, honey, Reggie isn't real." Monet spoke slowly and carefully. "Besides, he's a nuclear physicist and only speaks blutacean." She just couldn't hold it in any more and started giggling.

"How interesting," Medusa said, her hair flicking out in irritation. "Well, I wish you the best of luck." On becoming sane. "I have quite a bit of coursework to complete for the end of term, so I must beg your leave."

"Fair enough. Good luck getting it all done, eh." She wondered if she should apologise to Medusa -she seemed fairly cranky for some reason. Meh. Whatever it was couldn't be that important.



Later in the day, Tabitha and Monet don't exactly hit it off again.



Monet was sprawled on one of the couches in the rec room. She'd slid so far down the seat that she was almost lying prone, feet kicked up on the arm of a nearby chair. She was bored and if she'd ever learnt anything, it was that being bored was even more boring without a really large tv. She had a death grip on the remote, a bag of those nummy little chocolate eggs with the crunchy coating you couldn't get outside Australia because it was a little brand (thank you, Nicole and Claudette!) and was channel surfing, flicking past a half dozen shows as quickly as she could. She was prepared to defend the chocolate, her right to not watch any one show in particular and the blissfully, amazingly empty rec room with her life. Or the life of someone else, if that was simpler.

Tabitha wandered the halls, letting nostalgia make her giddy. It really was great to be back. She'd needed something different in her life, but now it was time to return. She felt more prepared for everything and was eager to get back into the swing of things.

Now, if only she could drop the thirty pounds she'd gained at school....

Ahead, the door to the rec room beckoned like a treasured memory. Tabitha looked around to make sure no one could see her. Then she dashed down the hall on stocking feet, then slid right through the door.

Monet pulled her feet out of the way as a blonde lunatic slid perilously close to them. "What the fuck are you doing?"


Tabitha froze before she slowly turned around to face the sneaky person hiding in the rec room. Heat bloomed in her cheeks and she resisted the urge to ask the girl where she'd come from.

"Er, sliding?"

Monet rolled her eyes. "Of course you were. Now," and she paused to take a bite out of one of the eggs, "Why were you doing that in here? I was watching tv." The television, flicking through chanel after channel suggested that was something of a lie.

Tabitha was momentarily fascinated by the flickering channels, watching a loud used car salesmen morph into a phone sex operator before becoming a Rastafarian crying about a lost woman.

"Well, it's a nice wood floor, with maximum slidability, and I just took advantage of the situation. It doesn't look like I've interrupted anything. Unless my slide caused the TV to spontaneously start channel surfing?"

"My god. Did you get dropped on your head as a small child or something?" Monet turned to really look at Tabitha. "Oh, sweetie. Why are you wearing pink socks with that ...outfit? Are you colour blind as well?"

Tabitha crossed her arms over her chest, eyes narrowed and preparing for war. "Actually, the school has quite an eclectic library. I doubt you'd find one like it any where in the world." She paused, realizing she sounded a lot like the nerd she was.

"So, yes, it is."

"Oooh oooh ooh." Monet crossed her arms, imitating Tabitha. "We've got an extra spesh library. It's so spiffy we have to have Tabitha to make sure the books don't run away. You know why Tabitha can do it? Because she knows words like eclectic."

Tabitha could only stare. She spun on the heel of her pink sock and started to walk away. "I hope you're half as smart as you think you are."

Monet blinked as Tabitha left. What on earth is her problem? She turned back to the tv and her Easter eggs.

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"Oh, Medusa! You have spurned me. I am filled with woe. Woe!" For some reason, Reggie had a Pakistani accent that wandered into Irish.

IC:
. . . so tell me, was alcohol the only banned substance dad exiled you for?

OOC:
AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA