Fandom High Dormitories

Gladys had packed up everything she owned, which really wasn't very much at all, and was sitting by the unlit campfire. Her one bag was sitting next to her and Laura was curled up asleep on top of it.

She had gone to school, she had learned, she had been in a play, she had a pet. She had done things no other golem ever had. It was time to return to Ankh-Morpork.

Her portal wouldn't leave for awhile yet, so she was spending her last hours patiently waiting.

[ooc: Last post before Gladys goes home if anyone wants to say goodbye to the golem.]

Laura the genet was hungry, and so Gladys took her down to the hall to find her some breakfast. Laura trotted next to her, and bounced into the common room, heading for the fridge.

"Ahoy, If I Get You Breakfast You Have T' Beha'e. Gar."

Gladys stopped.

The genet stopped. And it stared at her, head tilted in confusion.

"Aye. I Have No Idea Why I Be Talkin' Like This. Thar Seems T' Be Somethin' Wrong With Me. Gar."

Laura dashed across the room and hid under the couch, peeking out at Gladys.

"Ar. I Do Not Think That This Be Normal." She paused. "And Ye'll Ne'er Get Me Buried Booty." This was very odd. As was her sudden urge to call herself Cap'n Jan Bloodbucket. "Ar."

[ooc: Arrr, the common room be open, me hearties. eta: Yar, I be going to bed.]

Gladys was making sandwiches. She'd read somewhere that food was a good way to welcome new people. The island had new people, and so they should be welcomed.

Golem logic. Golem sandwiches, on the other hand...

She had two loaves of bread and a ham, which she assembled -- bread, ham, bread. Then with one huge and heavy shovel-like hand, she pressed down, flattening it. Her sandwich was several feet square, and about an inch thick, and she began slicing it into squares.

Perhaps it might not be quite as welcoming as she intended.

[ooc: And the sandwiches are actually canon]

The genet dashed into the common room, Gladys following, and leapt onto the couch, the TV, then bounced back. "You Have Too Much Energy," she told it, holding out a hand. It leapt into it and started sharpening its claws and trilling.

That meant it was hungry (Gladys had not let it eat any of the tiny monkeys) so she started opening cupboards, looking for something to feed it. The genet immediately ran inside and started kicking things out. "That Is Not Helpful."

It ignored her, pounced on a cereal box, dragged it to the middle of the room, and started disembowelling it. "Your Manners Need Some Work."

[ooc: Beware of chaotic genet.]

Gladys was looming near the stairs, watching the genet.

It was tumbling madly in a pile of lingerie, twisting, jumping, pouncing in pure, almost unholy glee.

Sometime in the night, something had left a variety of underwear scattered across the lobby and draped over various bits of furniture. Gladys wasn't sure what to make of it so she simply kept watching, pondering the mysteries of rogue underwear.

[ooc: open of course! Mod your underwear if you want to find it in the lobby!]

Trenor was a very bored horse. Not that he wasn't being looked after properly, but he missed his person, and he was sick of his stall and his yard. So he'd escaped and wandered into camp, in hopes of finding someone to give him treats. When he sniffed at the odd rock near one of the cabins he got quite a surprise.

It stood up.

Legs splayed, he stared at it in shock.

When it spoke, his ears pointed straight at it, and he quivered in astonishment.

"Horses Are Not Supposed To Walk Around Alone. You Should Be In Your Stable."

Trenor simply kept staring at her, and it was much too late when he finally decided to bolt.

Gladys reached out one massive hand and, with surprising delicacy, caught his halter. Trenor pulled back, but he was only a small gelding and Gladys was immovable object and irresistible force all rolled into one.

Even his attempt at passive resistance didn't work. Rather than drag him back to the stables, Gladys simply picked the horse up and put him over her shoulder. Trenor flailed his legs once, trying to leap off, but Gladys barely noticed. Balancing him carefully, she began to walk out of camp. "Now You Will Go Back To Your Stable."

Ears drooping, Trenor hung limply over her shoulder, whuffling to himself.

[ooc: Totally open! (Though it'll be SP in two hours cause I have to go to bed.) And yup, it's canon, a golem can easily carry a horse. Poor Trenor.]

The Sirius campfire was lit and burning merrily. Gladys was standing nearby, arms hanging, the glow in her eyes banked, as she waited for something that needed to be done.

Apart from setting up the fire, she hadn't moved since last night.

[ooc: Sirius campfire is serious. Err, open. And it was TOTALLY never in the wrong journal. Honest.]

Gladys was going for a walk, because a morning constitutional was important for a healthy body and a healthy mind (never mind that her body was made of clay and her mind was a scroll of paper, covered in words). Or rather, she was attempting to go for a walk. So far, she had managed to get out of the front door.

"You Must Move, Small Tortoises." She was standing very still in the midst of a wave of tiny, golden tortoises. It was impossible for her to take so much as even a single step without crushing them, and it was important to be kind to animals.

She attempted to scoop them up and push them aside, but more just trundled in to fill the space, all looking up at her expectantly, and now she had two giant handfuls of wee tortoises. Her eyes flared slightly. "This Is Not Where You Are Supposed To Be."

Despite that, the ones in her hands looked very comfortable. Golems did tend to be on the warm side.


[ooc: open, of course, as she's in the open!]