Princess of the Timber Forest Owls

This had not really been the best week Rinoa had had, exactly.

She had woken up on Saturday with a melodramatic case of amnesia, which she hadn't seemed able to spell. She'd gone looking for clues in the most wrong-headed manner possible. About the only sensible thing she had done was to turn herself into the clinic so someone could check her out.

And then there was the part where she had slept with her ex-boyfriend. Which ... was not exactly bad so much as kind of seriously not good, exactly, what with them having sort of a messy relationship now, and her moving on, and blah blah blah.

And then there was finding out on Twitter that Seifer had also bedded Squall, aka, her current boyfriend, which had necessitated in her being really unpleasant to both of them, which was totally unfair, and then crying to Sookie, which ... meant she owed Sookie some candy or apologies or something?

Theeeeeeeen Seifer had trashed his room and she had worried but he said he was okay now, and they seemed better. That bit was good.

The bit where she and Squall hadn't talked since that stupid fight on Monday, that ... wasn't so great. That part sucked really hard.

She should go down to his room. No. She should call him. No, you know, she was going to wait it out and see if he contacted her, first. Okay, no, that was childish. She was going to ... text him? Kind of gauge his reaction?

Maybe she should flip a coin.

(will be linkdroppy. door cracked, post open)

This wasn't how Rinoa had hoped her birthday would go. She was usually spoiled enough to make a huge fuss of it, to hint for gifts or insist on a party. She didn't want a party, this year. She was hoping no one realized it was her birthday; then she wouldn't have to smile and laugh and play along.

Her shields were better, thanks to both Sookie and Professor Skywalker, but the lack of sleep was getting to her. Everything was turning a bit gray and colorless. And the rest ... the rest, she was trying her hardest not to think about. There didn't seem to be a solution, yet.

There was a card on her desk, and she recognized the handwriting as being her father's. She didn't open it yet. She wasn't all that interested in whatever he had to say. Probably just a card with money stuck inside.

Rinoa stretched out on her bed and tried to read. Angelo whuffed a few times before curling up by her feet.

(door and post both open)