[Storytime: 1/9
Adventure GET: 3/21
Up to Date: 1/15
Something To Deal With 1]

There's a train that runs from Horizon to Arcadia, and from here, we can see it go rumbling on by. I think it's better that there's no train station here. I mean, it's not exactly convenient that you have to take the bus or walk over the hill to get to Horizon, but that means the train's always like that: beautiful and far away, the orange of its windows a contrast against the grey of the sky. We didn't go underneath that tiny shrine, because there's no way both of us would have fit unless we squeezed together, and something about that idea sends fireworks right up my tail, so we didn't; I just folded up my lily pad and let her hold the dandelion's drooping head over mine so that both of us were getting a little wet, and I thanked her and said something silly about how I usually do empty my lily, but I was just lost in... and then I waved my hand at the world. And I think she understood, or at the very least she nodded and smiled at me and I got really hot against my wet clothes, which of course aren't so much drenched as temporarily inconvenienced by the rain, and I did throw on a coat as I was walking out, but it's not a rain coat, so it's much more wet than the rest of me, because it's something I threw on. At least the rain's good for the flowers in my crown, and it makes hair nice and shiny, though it's nowhere near as good as rubbing in some proper fish guts. It's a Fortitude thing; over in Horizon they use this really slimy shampoo, and there's all kinds of hair products you can get in Arcadia, but over here there's nothing as good for the outsides of a head than the insides of a fish. Anyway, we didn't really say anything important before the dandelion started to really droop and we had to make a mad dash for the tree down the road, laughing and shrieking a little, and now we're here, pulses thumping and smiles showing and listening as the rain decides to double down, and pretty soon it'll just be a curtain draped over the fields, and I turn my head and watch as the train goes by.

Is there anybody in there looking out? You don't need to answer, I'm just thinking out loud. It's the question that always pricks at me when I look at that train go by. It's so far away that even if someone was sitting with their head against the window, I wouldn't be able to pick them out from all the seats, and if someone was sitting with their cheek against the glass, feeling the coolness of the pane and the rumblethump of the wheels, they'd just see a tree gripping the earth with its roots, standing unremarkably next to this rice field, in a landscape more like a quilt of fields and gardens and houses and trees and little winding streets, settled over the earth like she's peeking out from under the quilt on a winter morning, thinking about how beautiful the swirling snow is outside, but how much warmer it is underneath the quilt. I don't know them and they don't know me, but if I happen to be looking at that train, and at the very same time they happen to be looking at the tree, maybe just for a moment there's a connection between us, and it's just as real even if we don't know about it. It's the [i]not knowing[/i] that makes it special, actually. Rain trickles down onto the collar of my shirt and I shiver, before turning back to my new friend.

"So I'm Rinley," I say, pointing up at the ears. Twitch, twitch! "[i]The[/i] Rinley. You know. But I haven't met you before! I mean, I saw you the other day, but I'm pretty sure that's the first time, and I know basically everybody in town, so that means I'd be doing you a disservice if I didn't get to know you, too! I mean, can you really call yourself part of the community if you don't know me? So tell me your [i]deal[/i]. Are you from Fortitude? Or did you move here? Is it your lungs? Or a family member's? The air here's really good for the lungs. I'm sure you or they will make a full recovery, even if it takes a little while. Or, are you, no, I don't [i]think[/i] you're American," I add, really looking at her. She's pretty like an American, but she doesn't have that, you know, [i]je ne sais eagle[/i]. "I'm Rinley," I blurt onto the end, even though I'd already said that. "What's your name? What are you doing out here? Do you like my umbrella? I like yours, even though it's drooping a [i]lot[/i]. We can share mine once the rain settles down." My grip tightens on the stalk. I want to be her friend [i]so[/i] bad. It's important! She's got that sense of importance and weight to her, that selectable menu option fuzz, and if we're friends it'll be cool to hang out together. I don't have a lot of [i]friends[/i] friends, even if I know basically everybody, and why else would I want her to like me so much if I didn't want to be her friend?

[i]Please like me,[/i] my heart blurts out to her heart. [i]Please please please. I promise I'm cool and I'm good at telling stories and you're really pretty and I think I want to hold your hand.[/i] My heart's terrible at lying. If I knew what I was doing, I'd use my heart to tell her: [i]I'm super cool and you should tell me everything interesting about you and listen to me when I talk,[/i] but you have to be really honest when you're speaking with your heart. And it's not like normal talking where you're hearing the words, it's more like... like being able to convey the meaning of what I want to say without having to use the words at all.

[Rinley pumps a heroic 4 Will into the Intention: [i]win over the straw-haired girl[/i]. Also marking XP for Up to Date for grilling the straw-haired girl on her [i]deal[/i].]