Princess of the Timber Forest Owls

Rinoa was bored. And so tired of paperwork. She was nearly done, she could see the end of it, but she just couldn't power through it.

Time for some boredom-inspired text messages. Most of which were going to Squall. Okay, she thought they were going to Squall. And then she was going to sulk that he wasn't showing up right away and keep texting him.

And some of her other friends: Seifer, Sookie, Jono. But mostly Squall.

No, she wasn't re-reading the texts to spot that autocorrect had gone haywire. Why?

(this is going to have many links added in, yes. mostly establishy, can totally be open.)

Seifer was back. The world hadn't ended. The island was restored. The paperwork was still here and in order. She hadn't killed Topher over that D&D game thing (or let Squall kill him, either) and ... okay, maybe she had used a lot more power than she had meant to while she was protecting the forcefield, and maybe she almost hadn't come back, but that was okay. And by "okay" she meant she absolutely wasn't thinking about that just now.

There was one very important thing left to check, and a phone number that could not ring fast enough.

"I need to speak to the general, please," she told the secretary. "This is his daughter, the Sorceress, and it's more important than whatever he told you about holding calls, so either you put this call through right now or I'll come there and set you on fire."

Well, that was one way to be patched through quickly.

"General Caraway," said a brusque voice in her ear.

Oh Hyne he was alive, and he was okay, and he wasn't gone forever. He really, really wasn't.

"D-daddy?" she said. "I-it's so good to hear your voice. I th-thought ..."

That was all the further she got before she started crying. So what if maybe, she actually told that man that she loved him, for the first time in years. Maybe it needed to be said every now and then. Shut up.

(establishy, will have links later! can be open post-phone call i you like)

Rinoa still hadn't heard from her father, which was making her decidedly cranky. She said she'd give him time to organize it, so it was probably too soon to call. Right? Maybe? Maybe not. Was it? She didn't even know if he was actually doing anything with the list she'd given him. Maybe he had crumpled it up and thrown it out when she left the restaurant. Maybe he was spying on the subjects.

Okay. She was giving him another couple of days and then calling and if he thought that was pushy, so be it. It wouldn't be the first time.

In the meantime ... nothing bad could have happened (yet) because she would have heard about it by now. She was sure of it. Mostly.

To cheer herself up, she was working on her Halloween costume. It was nearly finished, and it was going to be super-cute. She was stressing about Timber; that meant she was allowed to take time off to be shallow. So there.

(door open, post open, expecting one but welcome for any!)

Rinoa had been having a long argument with herself, back and forth, about this. She hated that she was going to be the one to call. They hadn't spoken in months, which was perfectly fine with her. Except.

Except she'd heard rumors that General Caraway was gaining power in Galbadia. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing -- as much as she hated him personally, he'd be a better president than Deling, or anyone possessed by Ultimecia.

And if she really wanted to free Timber, then ... unfortunately, what Squall had said months ago ........ was right. Diplomacy was the best move, and she was in a position to make use of it. When she had been another member of the resistance movement, nobody had paid much attention to her. But she was the Sorceress now.

He had to be high in the political ranks of Galbadia by now. If not the President, then close to it. He'd been the General before the army had been taken over, and he was highly thought of. He'd survived, and not many in the power structure had.

So maybe she should ... suck down her pride and call him. And ask if he was willing to talk about it, and invite him here for a visit. Next weekend. Which was ... coincidentally ... Parents' Weekend, since ...... he was sort of her father and all.

She called the first number she had for the offices in Deling City, not really expecting an answer. People had gone home for the weekend, right? Right. She'd try to call and no one would answer and then she could say she'd tried and chicken out and hang up.

(For an NPC phone call. Door closed, post can be open afterwards.)

Of course Claire slept in. Claire always slept in on Saturday mornings, unless she had detention, and the school here seemed much more lax about handing it out than Shermer High ever had. Which was good, because sometimes a girl just had to blow off third period in favor of checking out the latest shoes at Ralph Lauren.

She ignored the message from her mom on the machine. Ugh. Her parents should hurry up and get a divorce already; it would save everyone a lot of trouble. Maybe she could go live with her brother. Maybe she could just stay here.

Well. Not in this room. This school didn't seem as big on social stratification as Shermer -- one of its faults, in her opinion -- but she was still popular, thank God.

(open to the roomie or anyone who wants to pop by. Rinoa is spending the weekend as Claire Standish from the most excellent Breakfast Club, because one princess deserves another.)

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)

Okay, last night had been wonderful. The dance, seeing her friends, and staying way, way too late in Squall's room.

She'd been tempted to sleep over. She'd been tempted to ... well. Do other things. She'd chickened out on both.

And now, Rinoa was fast asleep, bundled up in warm covers. Maybe she wouldn't get out of bed until noon.

(yeah that won't happen. expecting a wee one and possibly others, and open to boot!)

There were so many things to stress about, right now, if you were Rinoa, anyway. (And she happened to be Rinoa. That was how these things went.)

Firstly, she kind of had a date. Not kind of. Actually had one. She hadn't told Ariel about it (was she going to mind? she had Bruce, right?) or Squall (who was definitely going to mind, but that was his problem and not hers). And secondly, she was still a boy.

Were dates canceled if you were currently in the wrong gender entirely? What if your date was? What if your date wasn't? She hadn't seen Christian. Maybe he was still a guy.

She wasn't entirely sure what she should be hoping for, at this point. But she got ready anyway, thanks to some fairly nice looking clothes she'd gotten handwavily at the store downtown. She might be a boy for a while, and she might be a boy who had a date in the meantime, so it couldn't hurt to look her best.

Don't mind the fidgeting.

(for the girl-shaped-boy-date, but can be totes open before he shows up, esp if the roomie wants to chat!)

Rinoa had expected a number of things from this island, thanks to the warnings at the picnic, but the sentient flowers? Those had taken her by surprise.

They were adorable. They sang little songs and swayed in the wind and asked nosy questions about her love life.

"No, we broke up months ago," she explained. "The distance was too hard, since he was still at Garden. We stayed in touch, though."

A sympathetic chorus of ohhhhhhhhhhhhh's.

Who knew that flowers wanted to hear all about your ex-boyfriends?

(door and post open!)