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Jun 02, 2020 5:04 AM
Argents come to town
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Allison moves once a year. It isn't a life that lends itself to putting down roots, but she doesn't mind. If she wanted friends that would last a lifetime, she would look elsewhere. Most people couldn't understand the work she does. They'd probably grumble about child labor, or vigilante justice. Things are simple. They get the job done, and they move along. She still gets to hope that the new school has an archery club, though.

She's finished unpacking her trophies when she notices it's missing. Of course they missed something. Next time she'll know not to trust her mother to pack their things. She knocks on the door to her sister's room.

"Regan, is my iPad in one of your boxes?"

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Regan is sitting cross-legged in the middle of her unmade bed, boxes open and half-empty around her. An organized sort of chaos. Her eyes are closed.

"Box near the window. You left it on the kitchen table."

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Allison retrieves her drawing tablet. She eyes the room speculatively. Mom would never let her keep her room like this.

"Do you need help unpacking? I'm almost finished, and you could use the help."

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"It's happening. I just -- that stupid plaster we made when we were kids got smashed in the move. It's stupid, I just got really annoyed. Needed to sit."

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Allison sits next to her.

"Do you still have a picture?"

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"Don't really need one. We could glue it back together. Might even improve it. But... it's never going to be the same."

...yeah, she's really putting much thought into this. It's just a piece of junk. Not worth whatever this is. But.

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"We can't replace it. But just because we're not kids anymore doesn't mean we can't still make something together."

She doesn't know where she's going with this. She's not an artist like Regan.

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She nudges Allison's shoulder with her own.

"Thought we were too cool for that now," she teases.

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"Speak for yourself! I'm the goody-two-shoes who spends all her time at the gun range."

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She laughs. "Yeah, that's super not cool. People are going to think you're such a loser. The hot new girl that knows her way around a gun. Definitely not cool. They don't write books about those type of girls at all."

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"What, you think some charming acne-ridden teenager is going to sweep me off my feet?"

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"Let's aim a little higher. Maybe some sort of bad-boy type. Has a motorcycle. Tattoos. Mom will love him."

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"She would. 'You know what really matters, girls. If he can have your back on the battlefield, find a way to keep him.' Honestly, I'm not sure which way my teenage rebellion is supposed to go. Maybe I'll just find a boy that abhors violence and loves puppies."

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"A pacifist. Oh, god. That would go over so well. She'd run him out of the house with a broom. Or even better, a machete."

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"What about you? Any ideas to disappoint her with?"

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"I could have a look through the bestiary."

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"Don't joke like that in front of dad. We don't need another lecture."

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"I dunno. They can be kinda fun. See how many times he mentions 'family' and 'responsibilities' and 'caution'. Could make a game out of it."

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"I just hope this school has a club I can join. We don't need a repeat of last spring."

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"Probably for the best. Inanimate targets only."

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“Are you sure you won’t be joining? We could always use someone who knows their way around a bow.”

They both know Regan has never had the patience for bows when she has better options, but it would be an excuse to spend time together.

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"We would probably make everyone sad with our combined greatness," she replies, though she doesn't sound put-off about that at all.

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"That's inevitable. We'll have this town talking about us for years after we're gone."

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"Our legacy. Though maybe this year will be different. Mom and dad will finally put down roots, join the PTA, maybe a book club or two."

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"I wish. It would be good to build a network on our own merits, instead of just relying on the Argent name."

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She laughs and falls back on her bed. "Sounds like a lot of work. Nepotism requires so much less effort."

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