papertown | Once upon a time, in a strange, far away land....

Once upon a time, in a strange, far away land....

In the Unknown, strange things happened all the time.

And as a resident of the Unknown, Beatrice usually didn't question them (hence why she took it so relatively well when she and her family became bluebirds). So when her little brother and sister came running in, telling her that the dog had gotten loose chasing rabbits, she didn't think anything of it when it turned into her running for her life away from what looked like a stag with horns even bigger than she was. The dog had gotten away, disappearing through the bushes and out of sight, but the human girl was a much slower and bigger target, apparently.

So she went barreling through the trees, mud staining the hem of her dress and wayward branches scratching against her skin, her mind not really focusing on where but simply away. Not too far ahead of her was a wall, the brick overgrown with ivy but the rocks uneven enough for her to get her feet wedged into the cracks and climb. There was probably a house, or a farm, or maybe even a church on the other side, and she was willing to gamble on the fact that the stag couldn't climb or jump high enough to chase her over.

But there wasn't a building on the other side of the wall, and when her foot caught a patch of damp moss that sent her tumbling over, it was a lot further down than she was expecting. With a thump, she hit the ground, rolling several times before she hit something hard, like a rock, knocking the air out of her and probably bruising her back something fierce. Sore, scratched, and completely out of breath, she just lay there motionless for a moment, panting and waiting for her ears to stop ringing before she opened her eyes.

The sound of loud laughter jolted her into a seating position, because this far out in the forrest, she should have been alone. And it was then that she took a good look at what she'd rolled into; a...gravestone? This was a graveyard?

Getting shakily to her feet, she brushed the dirt and leaves from her dress, making her way over the uneven terrain towards the arched gate that seemed to have torches or candles of some sort brightening the way. Once there, she saw strange, metal contraptions sitting on the blackened roadways, and clusters of small, strangely-dressed people running about with bright orange pumpkins hanging from their arms. This...was not anywhere like her home! Where the heck was this?!

Approaching one of the clusters of children, she cleared her throat awkwardly to get their attention. "Where is this?" she asked, squinting suspiciously at the way they were dressed (one of them had a sheet draped over them, one of them looked...metallic? and one of them looked like a big green lizard). "And what on earth are you wearing?"

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Wirt was gone longer than before. He heated the water in the microwave, which should have meant he would be done quickly, but his mother heard him and came to see how he was doing. She asked how the party had been, and when he got home, why he looked so flushed (had he run all the way home?) and why he had three cups out instead of one. He lied each time, and felt a little bad about it. But it was out of necessity. He couldn't let on that there as a girl up in his room, one that might end up staying a long while.

He told her to send Greg upstairs whenever he got home, for his cup of hot chocolate, and then slipped back upstairs with two warm cups of coco and one filled with just cold water from the tap. He set the three of them down carefully in front of his door, so he could go grab a hairbrush from the bathroom.

With a deep breath, Wirt knocked softly on the door. He was glad he had talked to his mom for a while. He wasn't as flushed or flustered as he had been. It was almost like he hadn't just gotten worked up over nothing. And it was nothing, right?

Flopping back on the bed (and noticing that it was way more comfortable than what she slept on at home), she looked at the tape for a moment longer before letting it rest on her chest, exhaling a loud sigh as she looked around the room. Whatever episode she'd just had, hopefully it was an isolated incident. Back in the Unknown, she'd been a bird; there was no reason to get flustered by a boy when you're a stupid bluebird, because it's not like there was a point. They weren't even the same species.

But now she was human again, and Wirt had grown up a little just like she had, and...what?

Groaning, she rubbed her eyes and looked up at the ceiling.

When she heard Wirt knock on the door, she sat back up, stretching and yawning. "Come in, I'm changed," she said.

Wirt pushed open the door and brought the hairbrush and glass of water in, first. He set them on the nightstand next to Beatrice, and then wandered back out without a word, to grab the mugs of hot chocolate. He placed one next to the glass of water and kept the other for himself. And then, there was silence as Wirt tried to gather his thoughts. He took a drink and sat on the floor, resting his back against the bed frame to be a little more comfortable.

He considered apologizing for earlier, but really, he kind of wanted to forget the whole thing happened. Because what was he supposed to do with it? He couldn't remember a time when he had ever been that flustered, before. It was incredibly stupid. Even more so, given how he couldn't seem to let it go. What did it mean? Did it mean anything, or was it just him getting used to seeing Beatrice in person?

"You look...comfortable." He said, not really sure what else to talk about. He could ask her about her family or her hobbies, or pretty much anything, really. They had a lot to talk about. But his head was so far out of the game it was almost ridiculous, and how one thing managed to throw him off so completely is baffling. It was like the universe was mocking him in some way, ramping his emotions up until he didn't even know what to do with them.

"Oh, and Greg will be here soon. Mrs. Daniels called to let mom know he was done helping her out, so." That was a thing.

When Wirt sat the glass of water on the nightstand, she wasted no time in picking it up and drinking most of it quicker than she probably should have. But it wasn't until she started drinking that she realized how parched she was, meaning she drained the glass in almost no time at all. It helped quell the tight, uncomfortable feeling that had been gnawing at her stomach, and also made her feel less like her face was going to spontaneously combust at any second.

The hot chocolate was still steaming, which meant it would probably stay warm for a little while longer. That reassured her enough to go ahead and pick up the brush, beginning to methodically work it through her tangled hair. "It's certainly a lot more comfortable than my dress," she agreed. "It's my first time wearing pants, though, so it's a little...different." She paused, working on a particularly rough tangle. "Thanks, for finding me clothes and bringing me stuff to drink. And letting me stay here."

There was a lot to thank him for, it seemed.

She perked up visibly at the mention of Greg, a smile on her face. "I bet he's a lot bigger than he was when I last saw him, huh? You've grown a little, but he's at the age where's probably growing an inch every day."

He had no real point of reference for how she felt about the pants. He had never worn a dress before, why would he? So he didn't really know how different the two would feel on. He was glad she was comfortable, though. That was definitely the important thing.

"Hey, it's--no problem. That's what friends are for, right?" He shrugged, a little surprised she was thanking him for something that he hadn't really thought thank-worthy. He would have done this for her no matter what. They had been through enough together that sending her out to deal with her problems by herself wouldn't have sat well with him at all. Sure, it had been a few years since they had seen each other, but he still cared. He cared a lot.

He returned the smile, angling himself so he could look up at her. "Yeah, he grows out of everything really fast. I swear he ends up with new clothes every couple of months." It was a little ridiculous, honestly. Wirt couldn't remember how fast he used to grow out of his stuff when he was Gregs age, but it couldn't have been this fast, right?

"He's still the same ol' Greg, though. I don't think he'll ever change, there." At least, Wirt hoped not.

Beatrice smiled, ducking her head bashfully as she continued wrestling with her hair. It made her happy, to be reaffirmed that he still considered them close enough to be friends. Things had been cleared up between them regarding her "betrayal" and everything she'd gone through to save Wirt and track down Greg, but part of her had wondered if it was just a desire to not leave on bad terms, and that once he had time to think about it, his feelings would fester and return to that horrible combination of anger and hurt that had broken her heart to hear in his voice and see on his face.

Turning to face him properly as well, she laughed knowingly. "I went through more of a growth spurt than any of my brothers when I was Greg's age," she said. "My mother said she spent more time sewing clothes for me and letting out the hems of my dress than she did doing anything else around the household, and she'd never been so happy for one of her children to stop growing as she was when I did."

With one final tug of the brush, it felt like her hair was finally free of tangles. It wasn't curly now, and instead hung in thick, glossy waves down her back. Even though she knew it hadn't been that messy, it felt freeing to have it hanging neatly instead of in gross kinks and knots. Picking up her blue ribbon, she tied it back into a simple ponytail at the nape of her neck, just to keep it out of her eyes while they were talking. Once she'd finished with her hair, she picked up her hot chocolate, letting it warm her hands while she breathed in the sweet scent.

"I'm glad he hasn't changed much, though," she said, a soft fondness on her face. "He's probably the most resourceful and cheerful kid that I've ever met in my life." It made her realize that she wasn't exactly sure how old either of them were. "Has he grown up much? Like, personality wise?"

Luckily, any grudges he had had are long since forgiven. He couldn't tell her exactly how he had felt immediately after his return, or the months following it, of course. But the answer to that was probably on the tape she had taken for herself. It didn't make sense for it to be anything else but him talking about his feelings. (Or playing them on the clarinet.) Whatever it was he had felt and thought would remain a mystery until she was able to listen to it.

He chuckled a little. "Yeah? Are you the tallest of your siblings, or the oldest or--what?" He was curious. He wanted to finally get to know her, since he had the chance to. Being there, he thought, was probably more an inconvenience for her than anything. But Wirt was actually glad she was there. It gave him a chance he had never had before, to pursue a friendship that he had valued greatly. He knew she would have to return home eventually, and that he would have to help with that, but he wanted to take advantage of the opportunity while he had it.

Her hair was so pretty, curly and tangled or not. But Wirt forced himself to pay attention to other things, and made sure he didn't look at her for too long, for fear of things getting weird again. So he focused mainly on his cup, glancing up only when he had to, out of politeness. Staring broodily away wasn't exactly the best thing to do when someone was talking to you, after all. Still, it was hard to figure out exactly how much eye contact was too much and how much was too little, so sometimes he would seem to flounder a little on that front. It wasn't incredibly noticeable, he didn't get too worked up over it. But sometimes he would look a little lost, like he didn't know what he was supposed to focus on.

"A little, but he's still goofy. He still likes music and writes all kinds of weird songs, but--" No one was surprised, there. "I dunno, he's not too different. He's still very--Greg." And as if on queue, the front door could be heard slamming from Wirt's room as Greg returned from his leaf-raking adventure.

"I'm the oldest girl," Beatrice answered, blowing on her hot chocolate a little. "I have one older brother, but he's moved away to start his own family. I also have three younger sisters, and six younger brothers." Frowning, she looked at her hand, mouth moving silently like she was reciting names, lest she forget anyone. "There's eleven of us total, counting me." With a slightly proud look on her face, she answered his other question. "And yes, I'm the tallest."

Even for a farming family, that was a lot of children. And sure, they didn't always come one by one (there was one set of twins and one set of triplets) but even so, it was a truly overwhelming number of people in one house. It left her feeling stifled sometimes, like there wasn't anywhere she could go where she wasn't crowded by another person. But there wasn't much to be done about it, since there was only so much room in their little house, which meant she just had to deal with it.

Sipping from her hot chocolate to see if it was cool, she gave a pleased sigh at the taste. "This is really good," she complimented, and already she felt loads better than earlier. It felt so nice, to be able to just sit here and talk with him, as a human and without the press of time and their journey to distract them. She felt relaxed, even despite the situation she'd found herself in, leaving her to settle comfortably back against the pillows as she drank from her mug. "And I'm pretty sure it's true, that boys grow up slower than girls, so you probably have a lot of that to look forward to," she teased.

"Wow, that's a lot of siblings." Wirt knew she had a big family, there had been a lot of bluebirds in that tree she'd brought him to. He just hadn't really registered that they were all close relatives. He had thought that maybe cousins and uncles and such had also gotten mixed up in the whole 'turned into bluebirds' thing, so he was a little surprised. "That must get pretty hectic. I mean, I have all I can do to keep Greg out of my room. You know?" He couldn't imagine trying to find peace and quiet in with that many people there.

He had of course, heard of families with that many children before. There were a few of them around town, and while he occasionally wondered what having so many siblings would be like, he ultimately like how his own family was now. He liked just having Greg around, and didn't know if he would have as close a relationship with his brother, if there were ten other siblings on top of that.

Wirt took another drink of cocoa and set to off to the side. "I hope so. He can be annoying, but I'm not ready for him to grow up yet." Especially since, for all intents and purposes, their relationship had been pretty terrible until their trip through the unknown. Wirt had always pushed away and berated his little brother. So he wanted time to catch up and make things better, before Greg was too old for it to matter as much.

"Unfortunately, we have to share rooms," Beatrice said, sighing and holding her hot chocolate close enough that the steam warmed her nose. "All the girls are in one room, and my brothers have two rooms." Their farmhouse wasn't tiny, but for eleven children to have their own rooms? They would have to live in a sprawling mansion to rival Endicott's! Unless your family was incredibly well-to-do, the children always shared rooms, although she didn't think this was the case with Wirt and Greg.

"If I became a disgraceful spinster, mother and father would have to give me my own room, but I'm still young enough that it's acceptable for me to stay with my siblings." And even though the girls were just as wild and rambunctious as the boys, they rallied around Beatrice like she was their commanding officer and they were her soldiers. She liked looking after them, and when Maisie, the youngest of them all, would wake up crying from nightmares and crawl into bed with her...it made her feel loved.

"And I think there's always something bittersweet about watching your siblings grow up," she commented, drinking more of her hot chocolate until it was almost gone. "I don't know about you, but it makes me feel really old."

"Oh wow, so you don't get, like, any privacy at all?" Wirt would go nuts, he really would. Sharing a room seemed like it would be fun sometimes--and Greg would occasionally crawl into his bed, too, when he had nightmares--but Wirt didn't know if he would be able to handle it being a permanent thing. He liked his space, he liked having room to lay on the carpet and write poetry or record himself playing the clarinet without being bothered. "It's just me and Greg, here, so--we don't really have to worry about that."

The second thing she mentioned had him turning to look at her with amused confusion. "A disgraceful spinster? Is that--actually something people in the Unknown worry about?" Wirt knew history, but he never really paid much attention to the social norms of times past. He liked learning about artists, musicians and inventors. He supposed people usually married young back in the day--his own mother had married just out of high school--but it seemed weird to actually worry about it.

"Oh, but--yeah, I know. I'm only eighteen, but I can remember when he was just a baby, so it makes me feel like--" He picked at the hem of his pants and shrugged. "I don't know, things are going by too fast?"

"Now that you mention it, I really don't," Beatrice mused, a slight frown wrinkling her features as she looked up at the ceiling. "I could go out in the fields or to the river or the woods to be alone, but when I left my family to find the golden scissors, that was the first time I'd really been alone for any significant amount of time." It had been alarming, to suddenly be alone in the world as a different species, but there'd been something freeing about it as well.

And when he answered her other offhanded comment with confusion, she couldn't help but laugh. "I don't know if I'd be considered a disgrace, but. Getting married is kind of the crux of a woman's life, in the Unknown. We can do other things, but we have to get married first, and obtain permission from our husbands," she shrugged, swirling the liquid inside her cup and focusing her gaze here. "Are things different, here?"

She'd always assumed that it was the same no matter where you came from, and while she didn't necissarily think less of women who had no protest with this idea (her mother was happy keeping the house) and it certainly couldn't be said that no women could stand on their own (like the inn keeper or Margueritte Grey), but those women had been married first and inherited their positions when their husbands died. For a girl like her, who wanted to paint and travel be more than someone who tended the kitchen, well...

"Oh, you're actually a little older than me," Beatrice said, sounding surprised; for some reason, she'd always assumed that she was the older one of the two of them. "I just turned seventeen this summer. But I know what you mean. So many of my little brothers are almost taller than me now, and I remember what it was like to hold them when they were first born. It's crazy."

"You have to ask--permission? Seriously?" Something about that didn't really seem right, and Wirt was pretty baffled. Yeah, society still had a long way to go before that idea was completely out of the picture, and there were plenty of people who still committed to those social norms. But his mother was about as independent as they came. She just did what she wanted to, regardless of what his step-father thought. Most of the time, anyway, when it was stuff that mattered.

"I mean, I guess it used to be like that, but--I don't know, girls kind of do whatever they want." At least, the girls in high school did. Wirt had no idea how things worked outside of high school and his own family. He didn't spend enough time at other people's houses to really know for sure if his mom was the rule or the exception. He hoped she was the rule, honestly. People should be able to pursue what they want to pursue and do what they want with their lives. Doing anything else was like conforming to labels; kind of tacky and weird.

He was surprised that there was still a place out there that held those kinds of beliefs, and it made him wonder--and not for the first time--just what kind of place the unknown was, in relation to his own world. It was stuck in the past, and aside from some major differences, it didn't seem too out of line with Earth. Were was it, exactly? Was it a real place, or just somewhere you went when lost or on the verge of death?

"I am? Oh, I guess so." He had though the same, honestly. He laughed a little wistfully. "Yeah. It's definitely--weird."

"That sounds so nice," Beatrice said with a wistful sigh, draining her mug and setting it aside. There was something almost like hunger gnawing at her stomach, but she was warm and hydrated and incredibly comfortable, not to mention enjoying the company, so she was more than content to stay like this. "We get a certain amount of leeway since we're farmers, and my sisters and I help in the fields when we're needed, but. Being able to do whatever I wanted sounds great."

What would she do, if she had the freedom? It wasn't something she daydreamed about, because there wasn't much point in it, but now that the idea had been planted, she couldn't help but think of traveling to beautiful places with old buildings that smelled like old wood and dust, or painting until her fingertips were stained with oils and she could never really wash the turpentine smell out of her hair, or even having a small garden of her own, and pursuing her interests as hobbies while she raised her children.

It wasn't even the idea of getting married that she was opposed to; it was just about having the freedom to chose what she did with her life, and who she wanted to share it with.

And that was certainly something she didn't need to waste any more time thinking about right now, or else she'd start blushing again (for some reason).

"So speaking of little siblings, where is Greg, anyways?" she asked curiously.

"Why don't you just--do that?" He knew that it probably wasn't that simple. When things were set a certain way, going against that was nigh impossible. But he knew who Beatrice was at hear well enough to know that she wasn't the type to just do what other people wanted, not if she was against it. So knowing she was forced into something that was against her nature, well, it was a little disheartening.

"I--don't know. He's probably telling--" The door burst open without warning, then, as Greg ran into the room. Wirt thought the person on the other side was his mother or step-father, so he reacted in a panic and jumped to his feet, nearly knocked his hot chocolate over along the way. Not that Greg noticed, he was too busy grinning up at Wirt and rocking on his heels excitedly. As soon as Wirt looked down at him, he launched into a long-winded retelling of his evening. He didn't notice Beatrice at first, Wirt was standing mostly in front of her, and even if he hadn't been, Greg was too focused on what he was doing to to notice much else.

"--And wouldn't you know it, Wirt, Mrs. Daniels gave me more candy than she did last year! And--oh! I saw Eric and his friends and they said that you've got a girlfriend and that you hugged her and everything!"

"Greg, no, that's not"

"Oh, and mom-" Greg caught sight of Beatrice sitting on Wirt's bed, then, and lost his train of thought. He didn't recognize her, but based on what his friends had been joking about, he immediately assumed this was the girlfriend in question, and grinned, giving Wirt a thumbs up. "Well look at that, brother o' mine. You really did find a girlfriend at that party! I told you. I said; you should go to that party, wirt. Good things will happen! And they did!"

And then, completely disregarding personal space, Greg meandered on over and plopped on the bed, holding his hand out for a handshake, leaving Wirt looking lost and confused as he stuttered over half completed words.

"I guess I feel like I owe it to them to not bring any more trouble than I already have," Beatrice said after a moment of silent consideration, her voice soft. It definitely wasn't like her, to just go along with whatever everyone expected of her no matter how she may feel about it. But after the whole "bluebird" incident, she didn't feel like she had the right to dig her heels in and run away to try and live independent of her family's wishes.

She wanted to be a good daughter. One who was better than the surly, sulking, angsting teenager who'd gotten them all cursed.

But thankfully, Greg burst into the room before she could give that train of thought any more of her time, and even though he was much bigger than she remembered, the enthusiasm hadn't waned even a bit. She tried to hide her smile behind her hand, and it didn't fade even when he kept calling her Wirt's girlfriend and brought a blush to her cheeks as well. When Greg joined her on the bed, she turned to to face him, taking his offered hand solemnly.

"Sorry I'm not the girlfriend you told him he'd find, but how about an old bluebird friend instead?" she said.

Wirt wanted to say something about that, about how that wasn't fair to her, and that everyone makes mistakes, so she shouldn't worry. She shouldn't let it get her down. But Greg's entrance got in the way of it, so Wirt wasn't able to do anything other than give her a somewhat sad look.

Greg, on the other hand, was really gung-ho about it all. All his friend's older siblings had boyfriends or girlfriends by now, and gosh darnit he wanted in. Sure, his buddies mostly just complained about how they kissed and cuddled a lot in their living rooms, but that seemed fun in and of itself. Greg could see it perfectly. He would go right up to Eric and say; 'Blech. That Wirt, always kissin' his girl.' Yeah, it would be great! The best!

All that got thrown out the window when Beatrice spoke. He didn't get it, at first. His memories of the Unknown were hazy and disjointed, and it wasn't something he really thought about much at all anymore. Not because he didn't care. It was just that his life was so full of stuff, that it got pushed to the side and forgotten. But the second it clicked, Greg's face lit up like the stars at night, and he threw his hands in the air. "Beatrice!" He turned to Wirt and slapped his arm to get his attention. "Wirt, look, it's Beatrice!"

"I know it's Beatrice, Greg, she's been here for a while."

But Greg wasn't paying attention anymore. He was busy staring at her intently, his head tilted to the side. "Buut, hey there. You're not a bluebird anymore. What happened?" He never found out that she was supposed to be human, so he always assumed she had always been, and would always be a bluebird.

There was a moment, brief but seeming go stretch on forever, where Greg didn't recognize her. And Wirt was older, and less prone to flights of fancy than someone his brother's age, making it easier to let the experiences slip away under the scrutiny of adults. But Greg had always been so sure of everything, and that probably included his experiences in the Unknown. So when his face lit up in pure, childlike joy, she found herself smiling in giddy relief in return.

"Well, I wasn't always a bluebird," she admitted, a bit meekly, because even know she didn't like to admit to what had transpired. "I was stupid and threw a rock at a bluebird when I was mad about something, and the bird cursed me and my family as revenge. Wirt took a pair of scissors from Adelaide's house that I was able to use to turn us back after I found the two of you again."

She patted her cheeks and wiggled her fingers in Greg's direction. "This is what I look like most of the time!. Although I do still kind of like eating worms..."

A lie, but one she figured Greg would take gleeful, grossed-out pleasure in.

Greg have a sagely nod. Them bluebirds really knew how to curse people! He should be more careful around them, and maybe see if they liked waffles or some such thing. "Wow, so you really we're magical. You were holding out on me the whole time!" That was the way he saw it. Sure, becoming a bluebird hadn't been her choice, but a curse is still magic. "But it's okay! Because now you're you and really real like I told Wirt all the time, but he just got all old and wrote lots of gross poetry."

"Greg." Ugh, whatever. Wirt sat down to watch Greg and Beatrice catch up quietly.

"Now we can tell mom and dad that they were wrong, and--" Greg laughed at the worm bit, and shook his head " well, we won't eat worms, those aren't the good kind of dinner. Maybe we can have some waffles, though."

Edited 2014-12-05 19:24 (UTC)

"Ugh, I told you already, I'm not magical," Beatrice said, rolling her eyes, although there was something decidedly fond about the way she smiled. "Curses don't require magic where I'm from. They can be just...divine retribution, if you did something wrong to something that especially didn't deserve it. Like an innocent, passing bluebird."

That wasn't to say that her world was completely devoid of magic, but she just happened to be an ordinary, non-magical girl from an ordinary, non-magical family on an ordinary, non-magical farm. Greg would probably find it horribly disappointing.

She laughed, grinning at Wirt when Greg mentioned him getting "old" and writing "gross poetry", because it was good to know that some things never changed. But at the mention of Wirt's parents, her expression sobered. "Well, for one thing, the waffles hurting my stomach wasn't just a bird thing. They still don't sit well with me when I'm a human, either. And as for your parents..." she looked at Wirt for help. "Maybe we should keep this our little secret for now."

"Oh." Well that was extremely disappointing. Greg wanted to brag about having magical friends (Which he would probably still do regardless, but it was the principle of the matter.) He got over it pretty quickly, though, and moved right on to the next topic. He wasn't one to stay on track for very long anyway, and really, divine retribution didn't seem all that interesting, especially if it wasn't magical.

Yes, he would be incredibly, mind numbingly disappointed to find out she lived an ordinary, non-magical life.

"Maybe you just haven't had the right waffles." Greg scooted to the edge of the bed and tapped Wirt's head lightly. "Go make waffles, Wirt! Yours are the best waffles ever."

"I'm not making waffles if Beatrice doesn't like them." Wirt rolled his eyes and shook his head. Really.

"Oh. Well, you should make me some anyway." And then Greg was right back to where he was, facing Beatrice and practically wriggling around in excitement. Beatrice! He was so happy to see her, to know she was real. It had been a real bummer, when people stopped entertaining his stories and started trying to make him "See reality". What a bunch of bums. What Beatrice says had him looking a little confused, though. Why would anyone want to keep this secret? "Our secret? But why?"

Wirt took the queue from Beatrice and nodded. He wished they didn't have to lie, life would be so much easier that way. But in their world strange things just didn't happen, and you were loony to think otherwise. "You remember when we got back home from the Unknown, right? They wouldn't believe us now, either, and would send Beatrice away before we could help her."

Greg just frowned for a long time. He didn't like it, not one bit. Now was the perfect time to show everyone how wrong they had been about Beatrice, the Unknown, and everything that had happened there. But--he also knew that adults could be unfair, and that they were big sticks in the mud most of the time, so after a while he nodded reluctantly. "Okay. I'll keep it secret." He didn't sound very happy about it, though.

Beatrice let out a sigh of relief when Greg agreed to keep things a secret. Depending on how long she was stuck here, she would undoubtedly meet other people, like the parents they were trying to avoid and maybe more of Greg's friends. After all, she couldn't very well just live in Wirt's room and never leave. They would just introduce her as a visiting friend, probably, and so long as Greg didn't actually tell anyone that she was living in their house, it would be fine.

She wondered if she'd get to meet Sarah.

"Thanks, Greg," she said, smiling and reaching over to ruffle his hair affectionately. "And well...I'll admit, my mom isn't very good at making waffles. If Wirt actually makes really good waffles, maybe I'd like these better."

Why was Greg so obsessed with waffles? Who knew. Either way, it was fun to indulge him a bit.

Edited 2014-12-06 19:36 (UTC)

Wirt was glad, too. He didn't want to have to worry about Beatrice ending up on the street or worse. Once everything was settled, he would definitely take her around and claim she was a friend visiting from the country, but for now it was best to keep things under wraps, while they patched together a game plan.

"You heard the lady, make waffles!" Greg flopped onto Wirt's shoulders from his place on the bed and nearly bowled him right over. Wirt shoved Greg off and sighed very dramatically. It was obviously an exaggeration, he didn't really mind. He just liked to make it look like he did.

"Fine, fine. I'll make you waffles. Just don't--do that ever again. You almost broke my back." Wirt got up to leave, but then stopped. "Oh, before I do. Greg, Come here." He guided Greg over to the door and bent down to whisper something in his ear. Whatever it was, Greg seemed to agree. He nodded and gave his brother a thumbs up. Satisfied, Wirt gave Beatrice a little wave, said "Be back in a little while. This kid needs waffles," and slipped out again.

As soon as Greg heard Wirt on the steps he turned to Beatrice, threw his arms in the air, and laughed. "Wirt said I need to burgle your tape!"

He also said to be sneaky, but like Greg even knew how to do that.

It made her feel content, to see the two brothers talking and all but rolling around in the floor. From what she'd seen, Wirt undoubtedly loved his little brother, but there was tension there. And there was always quarreling and fighting amongst siblings, but it looked like Wirt was more comfortable with him now. Almost losing someone you care about can really make you reconsider how you treat them, and she was just glad to see the rift between them repaired.

But of course Wirt would try and convince Greg to steal the tape back!

She grabbed the tape, giving Greg a suspicious look. "Why are you going to burgle my tape? It has my name on it, so clearly Wirt made it for me."

Edited 2014-12-06 20:23 (UTC)

Greg shrugged and crawled back onto the bed. He wasn't about to try and take it by force. He had actually hoped Beatrice would just hand it right over, but ah well. Back to the drawing board. "I dunno. He just said it was probably embarrassing, and would be Sara's tape all over again, so 'get it back, ok'." Greg honestly didn't care one way or the other. He made an attempt, and whatever weird stuff Wirt put on tapes was his business.

"But if it's got your name on it, then I guess it's okay. I'm sure that good 'ol Wirt'll understand." He was the one that made it for her, so obviously he had wanted her to listen to it at the time. He just had a way of worrying himself silly, the goof.

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if this sounds like a lot of siblings i looked at beatrice's family and counted and YEAH

LMAO I am not even a little surprised. There were lots of birds in that tree

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My phones internet is abysmal rn omg

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