paradisa | rule #1

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molly

rule #1

[Molly has found the journal.

'Calm' is not a good word for it. Neither is 'relaxed,' or 'adjusted,' or 'accepting,' but she is very good at putting on all four. Keeping her head is what keeps her alive.

She's gotten acquainted with the important bits: the magic, the wishes, the losses, the indefinite stay, the familiar faces. Also the really important bit: walkers. That is, lack thereof. Allegedly.

None of it seems real -- but then, options are limited.

She presses a crease into the corner of the journal's page with her thumbnail. The first thing it picks up is a mutter half to herself.]

Feet first, I guess.

[Then, louder:]

So, hey. Ain't I supposed to get a gift basket? That's what luxury places like this do, right? What kind of welcome wagon is this?

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[A pause. That's... hefty, but so abstract that it's hard to compare it against everything she's gotten back by being here.]

How's something like that even work?

Perhaps that prevents us from entering the pearly gates.

[A short, humorless laugh.]

That all? I got nothing to worry about, then.

Eternal fire does not frighten you?

Nah.

I've got a pretty high tolerance for shit like that.

No one can have a high tolerance for eternal suffering.

There's nothing hell can come up with that can be much worse than where I came from.

You will be surprised.

Yeah?

After I get to hell, or before?

[Nice as this place is, she's heard it's not all it's cracked up to be.]

Sooner than you think.

That a threat?

It would be had I posed the danger. It is a warning.

Well, then I've heard it already. This place ain't "paradise" no matter how much it pretends to be, is that what you're warning me about?

Yes. It is closer to the opposite in fact, but you may yet enjoy your first months.

It's got food. That's good enough for me at this point.

And alcohol.

And alcohol. Apparently.

But I told you, I'm passing.

[For now.]

You must inform me when you decide these motor skills are no longer so necessary.

You bring the wine, and you've got yourself a deal.

Spanish wine. Spiced to suit the season?

[That gets an amused noise.]

Sounds a couple steps above the swill I usually drink. But sure, why not.

I will call on you.

And I'll tell you when.

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