The Q to Your Bond

I don't think it's an exaggeration to say we'd rule the entire known universe.

(no subject)
standing there
[A few days after this.]

The note she gets is three words long.

I'm sorry.

Mac spends a solid minute reading and re-reading it before she folds it back up, the edges crumpling a little, and presses it flat against Bar. It melts into the wood; she keeps her hand against the bartop for a few more seconds, blinking furiously, before she lifts it away and turns around.

[OOC] Character Analysis/DE Meme
reading outside, writing, study session
As per backroom post, comment with your character's name (past, present, or uh, future?) and I will tell you:

1) how [insert pup of your choice here]'s opinion of the named character has changed over time, or
2) why [insert pup of your choice here] does or does not get along/like/other with the named pup.

Ze Pups Een Question:
Sylar (watchmakers_son)
Mac (q_in_training)
Ellen Harvelle (roadhouse_ellen)
Mercer (mercurialist)
Sam the Shoulder Angel (its_a_robe) [though I, uh, can't begin to imagine what sort of responses he'd get]
...and, for nostalgia's sake, Wash (flybywash)

Also, feel free to reply with what your pup thinks of any of the above :)

(no subject)
see the rainbow come (purple)
Their decorations are still up; the Mackenzie family, as a rule, keeps a death grip on the holiday season until their Christmas tree starts shedding needles like a family dog.

This includes a long, jaunty string of fake evergreen-like material that winds down the hall at waist level. It's clearly visible when Mac opens her bedroom door, peeks out, and announces, "Coast is clear," before holding it open for Sam. "God bless the public school system."

(no subject)
see the rainbow come (purple)
[After this.]

One week.Collapse )

(no subject)
shyly pleased
OOM: Show Me the Monkey. Contains spoilers.Collapse )

(no subject)
avoidant, looking down

"Cindy? It's Mom. I'm afraid I've got some bad news, honey."

It could have been worse. Her great-aunt was old, pretty much never seen outside of occasional birthday and Christmas cards, and -- the small, uncharitable spike from junior year that still needles her in the side every so often -- it's not like she was Mac's real great-aunt anyway.

It warrants a trip to Bakersfield regardless, along with two days' leave from class. Mac picks a different outfit this time; on the way up, her parents chide her to rearrange her hair to mask the dyed streaks. There's only the faintest tint of green left by now, like the kind you get after a month of swimming in chlorinated pools, but she sighs and complies.

Part of her thinks it might've been better if she left it the way it was. During the funeral, burial, and wake, she's one of only five brunettes in a sea of blonde. One of the other four sits a few rows in front of her. His hair's cropped short, spiked up, and bleached a bit by the sun.

Irrationally, Mac keeps staring, breath held, and thinking -- thinking --

She doesn't know what she's thinking.

Besides, when he turns in profile to whisper something to the guy next to him, it's easy to see he's at least ten years older than her.

I'm kind of sick of it, she'd said to Behrooz a week ago, and here and now, she leans her head back an inch to study the light fixtures above her great-aunt's coffin. It isn't, she's come to realize, the thinking about it that makes something cold tighten way at the bottom of her stomach. It's that she notices herself thinking about it in the first place, acutely, sharp enough to hurt.

And that almost half a year later, it still hasn't stopped.

Shouldn't it have, by now?

(It's weird, right?)

She avoids the guy anyway, and doesn't even realize she's doing it until accidental eye contact with him across the room makes her start like a scared animal.

The wake ends late: Mac crawls into bed in her uncle's guest room at close to eleven PM. There's twenty minutes after that spent watching the ceiling.

Eventually, though, she falls asleep.

(no subject)
Sam and Natalie Mackenzie insist on getting an early start for Mac's first day on campus, and she's so jittery that she agrees to it without protest. It's not like it's that big a deal; Hearst is barely any farther from her house than Neptune High.'s college. New teachers -- professors, she has to keep correcting herself. New classes.

New roommate.

So they're there by nine-thirty AM on the first day of sign-in and orientation, the parking lots and curbsides already packed with cars, freshmen streaming in and out of the buildings with boxes and their parents in tow. Mac passes a red-haired girl clinging to her mom, both of them crying like they'll never see each other again. She looks away, glances to her own mom, and says as she checks her Xeroxed map of the campus and points, "I think it's that one over there."

Her dorm room's empty when they make it inside. Her parents help her unpack most of her stuff; they keep hovering anxiously as she starts to hang her posters, and only leave after another twenty minutes, three hugs, and repeated insistings that she call if she needs anything.

"You're freaking out over this more than I am," quips Mac with a wan smile, even if it's not exactly true. She hugs them again. "It's cool. I'll be fine."

Forty minutes after that, she's tacking a badly-cut paper chain to the corkboard when the door opens. She turns.

All she hears is, "Ohmigod, are you Mac?" before something very pink and very blonde is rushing over to fling its arms around her in an enthusiastic hug. Mac nearly overbalances, staggering a little.

"Uh," she answers eloquently, flexing one arm to try and get free. It clicks. "You're...Parker?"

The girl squeezes her like they're long-lost siblings before she lets go, beaming. "That's me! Wow, I can't believe you beat me here, I thought there was no way anybody was going to get here before noon. I love what you've done so far," she adds, looking around their room. "Is that Monet?"

Mac glances at the print hanging near her bed and slants a resigned look back at Parker. "Renoir, actually. Monet was more, you know. Plant life."

"Wow," she repeats, pleased. "That is so classy. Hey," and she's spinning back toward Mac, "we should totally do some roommate bonding tonight! I know there's some kind of big Welcome to Hearst speech going on, but we can sneak out early, it's not like anyone's gonna care. I have Love Actually and tons of nail polish -- let me go grab my stuff, and we can get the TV set up. This is going to be great!"

And she dashes back into the hall.

Mac just stares, then, wearily, shuts her eyes.

Yep, she thinks as she rubs her forehead. Great.

(no subject)
scowl, pensive (green)
Dog Beach is twice as crowded now that the summer's almost over, everybody trying to get in their last hurrah before school starts up again. Her mom and dad had all but shoved Mac out the door when they found her curled up with her PowerBook for the tenth day straight -- no change from the past few summers, but they'd convinced themselves that the reasons for her seclusion ran deep enough to touch graduation night this time.

"I told you, it's for my job," she'd protested. "The one I got with an independent company so I can actually go to college?"

They hadn't budged, and, grudgingly, Mac had traded her laptop for her iPod and Watership Down before leaving.

She's on a bench now, set back from the worst of the sand and waves and crowds. Ravel's "Boléro" provides a quiet soundtrack -- even if most of it's dampened by the ocean and excited shouts -- to her reading.

"A rabbit has two ears; a rabbit has two eyes, two nostrils. Our two warrens ought to be like that. They ought to be together -- not fighting. We ought to make other warrens between us -- start one between here and Efrafa, with rabbits from both sides. You wouldn't lose by that, you'd gain. We both would."

[ooc: meme!]
see the rainbow come (purple)
Aw, Mac's journal is feeling so left out of the memespam love.

So! Ask any of mine a question -- Wash (flybywash), Mac (q_in_training), Mercer (mercurialist), or Sam the Shoulder Angel (its_a_robe) -- and they'll answer honestly. Or, alternately, tell me something about them that I don't know.

(no subject)
watch me rise up & leave
When she wakes, caught in the sudden complete alertness of adrenaline overload, Mac can think of a couple reasons why, even if she can't remember them.

She unlocks the front door and slips outside. Her Beetle's parked on the street this time; it's warm out, a little muggy, typical almost-July nighttime weather in California.

Mac boosts herself onto the hood, carefully eases back to sit at the edge of the car's canvas roof, and looks up at the sky.

She'll go back inside when her neck starts hurting.


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