Everyone had a mother...

Alana had a kid this weekend, and the kid was weird. For one thing, she wouldn't take off this stupid baseball cap -- which was extra-weird for a kid who came from a planet without baseball. She'd even fallen asleep with one hand holding it tight to her head so it wouldn't come off.

For another, the girl couldn't or wouldn't give a straight answer to any of Alana's questions. Alana couldn't figure out if the kid was lying or just very dense, but it made her uneasy. Honestly, if it wasn't for the wings and the fact she was named for Alana's favorite librarian from back on Landfall, Alana wouldn't have been sure Hazel was hers at all.

They were playing a card game now as Alana made another attempt at figuring out who exactly the girl was.

"So your dad's from Cleave," she said, rubbing her cards together. "Do you have any sevens?"

"No, go fish" Hazel answered. "And he's not from there, I was born there."

"And then we left."

"Uh-huh. With Izabel in a spaceship. Are you going to take your cards or can I have your turn?"

Alana finally drew the cards and shook her head. "And you won't tell me where we went."

"Don't remember," Hazel answered. "I was way little. All I remember is, I took dance classes and Dad wore bandages 'cause he didn't want us to get in trouble. But you worked all the time and somebody threw groceries and then Granny and me left." She frowned. "And we were lost, but then you finded me, and now you keep saying we're always always always going to be together. Except I fell into the blue thing. Are you mad? And do you have any kings?"

"I'm not mad, just confused," Alana promised, and sighed as she handed over her King of Clubs to a satisfied-looking Hazel. "Very, very confused."

Things were likely to go on like this for a while.

[OOC: Closed door, open post.]

Alana spent her wild Sunday night rearranging her room, upbeat '90 dance music playing as she did. After a few days spent feeling thoroughly bummed about Celia's departure, she had decided to try to salvage a bright side and take advantage of her new single by spreading out her stuff. She pushed the now-spare dresser and nightstand into the back of the closet, hung some artsy posters on what had been Celia's side of the room, and put the beds side by side so it was almost like having one big bed.

She wondered briefly if she'd get a new roomie with the next crop of students but decided not to worry about it too much. For one thing, she figured the school probably wouldn't put a new kid in with a senior. (If being an upperclassman meant anything, it should mean that her single would stay a single.) For another, if somebody did turn up, no big, she'd put the furniture back where it belonged and try not to complain about it too much.

She covered the newly conjoined beds with a big piece of brightly printed fabric and stood back to smile at her handiwork. "Not bad at all," she decided.

[OOC: Cracked door, open post.]

Alana had deliberately stayed out too late the night before, quietly but relentlessly ordering drink after drink. She normally didn't like to get drunk -- there was too much puke and too little control involved -- but getting a mass murderering psychopath out of your head was the kind of thing that pushed normal right to the wayside. She needed her brain to stop screaming in horror, and vodka was the fastest way to do that.

She wasn't hung over when she woke up, though the numbness in her brain seemed to be sticking around. She took a long, hot shower, put on an oversized t-shirt and leggings, pulled her hair back into a bun, and then curled up on her bed. She had a magazine open in front of her, but the text kept swimming before her eyes.

It was a relief to have a message to return.

[OOC: Cracked door, open post.]

Alana didn't know about sex pollen, but she had noticed that this week was unusually ... frustrating, and her workouts weren't taking the edge off at all.

And now, to top it off, she had a vid from Even, her new stepmother. (If you could call her that. The chick was barely five years older than Alana, and Alana was choosing to regard Even's existence in her home as the result of a persistent delusion on her father's part that was guaranteed to end any minute now, please.) Even was perky as ever, chirping out news about Alana's dad's latest trip for work and what the gossip mags were saying -- and oh, by the way, wasn't it so cool her school was having a parents weekend? She couldn't wait to visit, although Alana's dad was, of course, too busy with work. (But he sent his love, Even burbled.)

Alana clicked off the vid and dove for the D. Oswald Heist paperback she kept closest to her bed, flipping to find her place in the story almost frantically. Maybe that would give her something less completely nauseating to think about.

[OOC: Open post, cracked door.]