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Grace Violet ([personal profile] madeofstories) wrote2012-04-10 02:31 am
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Backdated to 3/31

The morning after the party, Grace doesn't awake at the first bits of light that come through her window. Instead, she rolls over, pulling her blanket over her face, groaning a bit. Perhaps she did have a bit too much to drink the night before, caught up in the magic of the party, and it's all caught up to her this morning. Truthfully, she scarcely remembers coming in last night, and suspects that Scripps had a hand in making sure she made it home okay. She'll have to remember to thank him, not only for that, but for going at all; she can't imagine those parties are much fun when you're completely sober.

But today is a day that deserves a proper lie-in, and she wishes it was one spent in her room in Bristol, if only because she could tell her Mum that she's sick and manage to get soup and tea all day. Though, she's only just nodded off again, when she's nudged, and opens her eyes to Lady Di's wet nose poking at her under the covers.

"No, it's too early," Grace whines, but the sound of her voice is really just enough to ensure that the dog continues her effort, burrowing further underneath the blanket and licking at Grace's face until she has no excuse but to acknowledge her. "Okay, fine, we'll go for a walk." she says, scratching behind the dog's ears.


Grace is lucky that she's got a pair of sunglasses that she found in the box a few months prior, because the day is bright and she has every intention of making today a duvet day just as soon as Lady Di is happy.

Today, however, she seems more interested in running about than finding a spot to do her doggy business, sniffing at bushes and digging in the dirt, barking at birds and running back to Grace, as if seeking approval. It's so silly that Grace can't help but laugh, even despite the slight pounding in her head. But as the time wears on, she's really just interested in heading home again. So once Lady Di starts digging at something in the dirt again instead of doing what she's supposed to be doing, Grace walks over to tug at her collar.

"Come on," she says, only, she notices that the dog has actually found something. It's someone's mobile, half buried in the dirt.

Curious, Grace bends over to pick it up, turning the iPhone over in her hands. The cover's nice, like something she might've picked out herself, actually, but she's not sure who might've dropped a phone. Or who actually carries one around, really; it's not as if they've got reception on the island at all.

So perhaps it feels like a bit of an intrusion when presses the button to wake up the phone, but she's only doing it to work out who she'll need to return it to.

She doesn't expect to hear Liv's voice.

"You'd be here if you were around, you'd be in this weird place with me and we'd be laughing our shit off at everyone here, because they're all wankers! And this place is a fucking shit hole and I don't know why I'm here. I miss you, Grace.

Or Rich's. She'd almost forgotten what he sounded like before, it's been so long. Or... at least, it feels like it's been a long time, so much longer than just over a year.

"I keep calling... so I can hear your voice. And I want you to say more... but you only ever say that one fucking sentence over and over again. That's all I get. Why the fuck didn't you say more?"

They've been calling her. Leaving her messages just to tell her how much they miss her. It doesn't make sense, not really, because her phone is already here on the island, and while she wished while she sent the bottle away, Grace knows that there wasn't really any chance of it making it back home.

But the truly horrible thing about it all is that everyone is moving on back home. Despite what she's told herself since she arrived, none of this will be like Oz or Narnia or Wonderland. She won't go home to find that no time at all has passed, and that the island was just a dream. They'll all keep living their lives, and eventually they'll just forget about her. It'll be like none of them had ever been friends at all.

She wants to call them all back, to tell them that she's okay and she'd be there if she could be, but when she presses Rich's name to ring him, there's no signal, just as always. There's nothing at all she can do.


[Item post! One of those public/private EP things, open to all and backdated to the last day of March. For reference, the rest of the voicemails can be found here, but ARE spoilery for Skins season 6.]
turnedtoproust: (all smiles: by snowchimes)

[personal profile] turnedtoproust 2012-04-10 11:27 pm (UTC)(link)
He's worried about her. True, he's been given practically a lifetime of worrying for his friends -- Dakin doesn't truly help, given the number of antics he manages to undertake within a week's time -- and now he's an expert. The difference is that where it might have been a burden before, now he wants to ensure that Grace is well. She's not at the hut when he seeks her out, but neither is the familiar bark of the grand and great Lady Di.

He goes in search, finding her up the path somewhat with something small and strange to him in her hand. "There you are," he greets warmly. "And there's my very favourite pup named for a royal," he adds, crouching to one knee in order to scratch behind Lady Di's ears.
turnedtoproust: (very far away: by ?)

[personal profile] turnedtoproust 2012-04-16 01:13 am (UTC)(link)
Scripps edges closer with a hesitance in his step. He's seen ill-moods on many people before, but he's always been left with a curious loss of how to cope with them. It's easier to nudge Posner and ask for him to offer condolences than to be the one to shoulder them. "I was going to ask if you wanted breakfast," he says, narrowing his eyes to try and get a better read. "No? Yes? What do you think?"
turnedtoproust: (scripps: by snowchimes)

[personal profile] turnedtoproust 2012-04-22 06:49 pm (UTC)(link)
He lingers by her side, offering an arm to be taken. "Perhaps you can regale me with stories of whatever land I missed out on last night," he prods, but gently, at that. He doesn't want to ask too much of her when the morning alone seems to be taking its toll. He'll wait if he has to, but he'll also do his best to be distracting.

Perhaps this is the mark of a modern day Renaissance Man: being able to distinguish what is needed from him, when, and how much.
turnedtoproust: (precipice: by ?)

[personal profile] turnedtoproust 2012-04-27 01:31 am (UTC)(link)
"Well, I can assure you that the blur might be a blessing," Scripps murmurs, given what he'd seen as the night had continued and the alcohol and drugs began to set in a bit deeper than before. His gaze slips, slightly, to her hand before he raises it again. He weighs the merit of asking, but he's not entirely sure whether he wants to just yet. Instead, he holds off, keeping it in hand for a moment. "I promise, I didn't let you do anything too untoward."
turnedtoproust: (very far away: by ?)

[personal profile] turnedtoproust 2012-04-28 10:16 pm (UTC)(link)
He's not sure he can avoid it much longer. Scripps takes hold of her hand gently, trying to draw her into a slower walk until they're at a stop. "Grace," he says softly. "What's the matter?" If nothing is wrong, then at least he's made the attempt at finding out what it could be. "Are you all right? Did something happen last night?" He'd tried to keep an eye on her, but he's fallible, being merely mortal.
turnedtoproust: (complacent: by ?)

[personal profile] turnedtoproust 2012-04-29 02:08 am (UTC)(link)
"If something is the matter, I want to know so that I can help," he insists earnestly, given that he doesn't know what else he's supposed to do if he can't do this. He takes hold of her hand in the both of his, giving it the gentlest of squeezes. "Please, Grace?"
turnedtoproust: (all smiles: by snowchimes)

[personal profile] turnedtoproust 2012-04-29 10:41 pm (UTC)(link)
He can guess, well enough, what the device is meant to do. It still earns quite a bit of awe from him, given that he's seen technology jump forwards and back in his time on the island, with no real indication of when any of the changes are bound to come. "That's good, though, isn't it?"
turnedtoproust: (precipice: by ?)

[personal profile] turnedtoproust 2012-04-30 10:07 pm (UTC)(link)
He swallows the lump in his throat. He'd thought -- erroneously, maybe -- that when they came to the island, their lives kept going. It's one of the few things that both tides him over and drives him mad. If time continues, then he gets to write his exams, but if time slides forward, then Hector dies.

What sort of world would make him choose whether he wants such a thing or not?

"You miss them too," he says, squeezing her palms as he takes his best guess. "At least it shows you how much they love you?"
turnedtoproust: (scripps: by snowchimes)

[personal profile] turnedtoproust 2012-05-01 09:10 pm (UTC)(link)
He wants to take it out of her hands, but maybe there's some kind of morbid curiosity that must be fulfilled by keeping hold of the phone. After all, wouldn't he do the same with letters? Read them over and over again until the words are all but burned into his mind. "You want to go home?" he asks, afraid of the answer.
turnedtoproust: (scripps: by snowchimes)

[personal profile] turnedtoproust 2012-05-03 01:56 am (UTC)(link)
"Well, I've got you here. And I've got Dakin and Poz." And he's without the terribly and undying panic that comes with exams. There's a little bit of bliss in this, he finds, and he's not so sure that he's ready to trade it away. "I don't know, I think I could make a home of it here."
floozyfacade: (neutral) (I don't know what I knew before)

[personal profile] floozyfacade 2012-04-18 09:53 pm (UTC)(link)
It's not unexpected or unusual for Duckie to go flying along when she spots Lady Di, hurrying over to sniff playfully at her sister, but Olive's pace is far more sedate. Even though she tends to be more moderate than not in her liquor consumption, she's still exhausted and groggy from a late night, and besides, the look on Grace's face doesn't suggest she's in the same hurry their dogs are to play.

"Hey," she calls. "Rough night?"
floozyfacade: (negative) sad, worried (the question had escaped me)

[personal profile] floozyfacade 2012-04-22 10:51 pm (UTC)(link)
"Mm, possibly not," Olive admits. "I mean, the Lost Boys were pretty wild, but that may have been just a tiny bit excessive." They deal so well in excess, though. In a way, she thinks it may be the only answer to how routine things become otherwise, a brilliant flare-up of decadence that occurs now and then. Somehow, it balances.

She looks curiously at Grace's cell phone. "Don't tell me you're getting reception."
floozyfacade: (neutral, negative) (but now I know I wanna win the war)

[personal profile] floozyfacade 2012-04-26 09:49 pm (UTC)(link)
"Oh." Olive hesitates, unsure if she should ask why that is. These things, from what she's seen, are really personal, and maybe Grace won't want to talk about it. Still, she wants her to have the opportunity, if she chooses to take it. "Is it... That's crazy. Are you sure? Are you okay?"
floozyfacade: (romantic, sad) hugs (your love as well as your folly)

[personal profile] floozyfacade 2012-04-29 07:18 pm (UTC)(link)
The words shake Olive unexpectedly, confusion hitting hard. She's heard from other people that it doesn't work that way. They promised, everyone swore, and she knew that it could all be stories the same way she understands that they don't really know if they go home after this, but still she let herself believe that, for the people back home, it's as if she's never left at all. She needs that to be true. She needs her parents and brothers not to be sad. She needs the chance to finish high school and go to college when she gets home not to slip through her fingers.

And she needs Grace to be okay, too, the way she moves closer to slip her arms around the other girl pure instinct. "Maybe... future you went on a long vacation," she suggests, but she knows it's weak.
floozyfacade: (neutral, negative) sad (it's only doubts that we're counting)

[personal profile] floozyfacade 2012-04-30 08:31 pm (UTC)(link)
"So they know?" Olive asks. She doesn't really want to hear the answer, but she wants to know it all the same, and it's impossible not to ask. This seems like the first real evidence they've had about how things actually work back home, and she doesn't like it, but she'd rather be sure, even if it breaks her heart.

"They know you're gone and they don't know where."

Why isn't anyone looking for them? Why can't they be found? She can't imagine her parents resting for an instant until they found her, and suddenly she feels incredibly guilty for the fun she's had while her family must think she's dead or something, and the same is probably true for Grace's friends and family. They've been gone too long for anyone to think they're still okay.
floozyfacade: (negative) sad (on fingers broken long ago)

[personal profile] floozyfacade 2012-05-02 09:20 pm (UTC)(link)
"Yeah," Olive says, nodding. She rubs small circles against Grace's back, hoping the gesture will prove more soothing than her words. It's hard to know how to handle this, and while she knows she can't expect herself to have the answers when she's never encountered things like this before, it's still hard not being able to really help. "Maybe it has. Maybe it's just... needs a little more practice being nice. I mean... You know, at least you get to hear them. You know, know that they still love you, that they miss you." That they haven't moved on, she thinks, but she's not sure if that would help at all.