paradisa | (no subject)

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[Teresa's been in Paradisa long enough to expect something on Valentine's Day, but she didn't expect to go from walking around in the woods to suddenly standing in a room.

... a very pink and rose-smelling room. HEARTS. There are hearts everywhere, and Teresa can only blink for a moment. It's so saturated it--wait, this isn't her room, is it?

And then she notices that she's not alone.

She sees what you're doing, castle. SHE SEES.]

No.

[She's already turning around and heading for the door.]

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We'd better not be in this room for days.

[Teresa actually looks alarmed. So alarmed she doesn't process Chaucer trying to be cute B( ]

[Chaucer's grin slides off his face like ice cream sliding off a cone. He would be sulking that she wasn't paying attention to him more if she didn't look so alarmed. He walks over to her.]

For days? What's wrong? Why's that so bad?

[There are only a few people she can handle in large doses, and Chaucer is not one of them.]

It's not a good thing. You can't be that happy about this situation.

[Looking for her journal...]

[There is now a wound in his overdramatic heart. His face is all disappointment and devastation for a few seconds, until he tries to collect himself.]

...Right.

What are you looking for?

[Aha. There it is. Teresa lifts her journal.] This.

I want to make sure it's not just us.

[She sits on the edge of the hideous bed. Flip flip flip. Oh, good. Other people are stuck, too. She shuts the journal before the noises get too annoying.]

That's something, I suppose.

[Geoffrey hesitates, then walks over and takes a seat next to her. He was a bit curious about the journal, but she shut it too quickly. He wonders faintly where his is, but he doesn't feel like searching for it.]

Er...yes. That's something.

...So what are we going to do?

[She won't bite. Looking at him, she shrugs.]

I don't know.

[A smile returns to his face.]

Well, you're helpful, aren't you?

Are you hungry or thirsty? We could wish something up. Or we could play some sort of game.

I suppose I could eat. [It's been a few days, and she might as well pass the time... she sure hopes the ghosts are still serving them, otherwise Chaucer's going to have to starve.]

We'll have time for more games than we'd like, I'm sure.

Mmm...I'm sure we will. [Congratulations. Flirty!Chaucer is back.

Knock-knock. Here are some ghosts serving a delicious gourmet meal for two. Those will just be set on a little table decorated with hearts and roses. There you go, Teresa! Chaucer wanders over to the table.]

[Ultimately, she prefers flirty over sad and depressed. :'(

Teresa sits, flicking rose petals off her side of the table.]

The disgusting thing is that somewhere, in some world, people enjoy this.

[Chaucer was going to pull out the chair for her, so he stands a little stupidly on his side for a second. He sits down quickly. He pauses, looking at Teresa with a baffled expression.]

What? Enjoy what?

The blinding colors and the hearts. It's ridiculous.

[Grins.] And you find it disgusting? That's a bit harsh. Who are you to deny people a little bit of pleasure? It may be a tad silly, yes, but who can judge people in love?

I'm not fond of it when it's forced upon me.

Well... just try to ignore all this shit.

[He scoops up a bunch of rose petals and throws them off to the side.]

And we'll make the best of it and have an enjoyable time.

At the very least, you'll try. [She's expecting her entertainment to come from his failures.]

I always try to make every event enjoyable. I do aim to please.

[Raises his glass to her.] Here's to our stay.

To our stay. [Said with a small sigh. She raises her glass, but doesn't take a drink.]

I take it that loss of yours is over?

[He takes a big swig of the wine and smiles triumphantly.]

Over and done with, thank God. I don't know how long I could have lasted.

You were very grumpy.

Well, you're very grumpy right now.

[She lifts an eyebrow.]

I'm not that grumpy. You were far worse.

Very well. Yes, I was the grumpiest. Can you forgive a grumpy, foolish poet?

Perhaps. Do you want to use my finite forgiveness on that?