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[petitejournalism]

DUONET ID: meryl.stryfe

"This is Meryl Stryfe. Sorry I missed you! If this is about a scoop, let me know a time and place and I'll meet you in person!

If not, then just leave me a message, I guess, and I'll get back to you!"

✉️ ☎️ 📷

Comments

Nightingale Suite, shortly after the shuffle!

[janescayre]

[This was appearing to be a pattern.

As if the injury of losing Lottie Person wasn't a foul enough blow, the insult comes in being shuffled into new quarters with zero warning. Suddenly her phone wouldn't swipe, and the house's (resoundingly creepy) gentle nudges into new directions leads her into the Nightingale Suite. It takes her several minutes of thin breaths and standing taut at the threshold before she's ready to enter.

Whoever was inside here, she's probably faced worse. Usually. Most likely. She was prepared for everyone to despise her at least, it was just whether she had to room with a complete psychopath.

What waits beyond is nothing more than a wee woman in a beret, hunched over several papers. Fukawa clutches her own bookbag tighter to her chest and glowers. She's writing? By hand, even? That's at least more promising than most dolts.]

Wh-who are you?

[Said as if she'd been walked in on, not the other way around. She hasn't taken more than two steps past the door.]

🌼 delivery

[ndw]

[ Wolfwood still has no clue that the flowers that Meryl sent him were passive aggressive, but he doesn't want her to lord the fact that she sent flowers over him, so he decides to return the favour to even out the ledger.

He doesn't look up the meanings of the flowers, pulling together some canterbury bells, cornflowers and white roses.

It just comes with his name on it, and no message. You're welcome!! ]

🌷 at the garden

[ndw]

[ While Wolfwood hasn't made any real effort to socialize or make friends or speak to people in general, he can't say that he hasn't been enjoying the opportunity to wander Crane City (and Avisile, when it's not in shambles). Nearly everything in the city is something he's never seen before, and while it can be overwhelming, it's exciting at the same time.

It's been a long time since he's been excited about anything.

He's in one of the botanical gardens in the city, hands tucked into his pockets and enjoying the vibrant colours and sweet smells. It's not his first visit, but he hasn't gotten tired of it yet.

And he's not entirely surprising to see Meryl there either—well, maybe a little. It's late into the evening; the sky more inky black than golden.

He lets himself drift over to where she's standing, tucking his lollipop against his cheek before he speaks, ] More research for your flowergrams?

sometime in May, extremely begrudgingly

[janescayre]

[Maybe half an hour after this fiasco has concluded, Fukawa exits her room, hauls the vase to Meryl's door, rings the bell, and dashes away.

Meryl will find a nice bouquet! The original note is rumpled beyond reason. Almost as if crushed in a fit of fury. There's a newer note as well, ripped clumsily from a lined sheet of paper. In a neat but sharply foreboding scrawl:

These are for you.

Tell Vash to stop huffing pollen and learn to read.

- Fukawa.


Do NOT contact her after this.]