Lord of the Tall: Fellowship of Heights (Greg)

[Ashley Engel]

One by one the free lands of bookdom fell to the power of shelving.
But there were some who resisted. A last alliance of borderline dwarfism and stubbornness marched against the armies of height inequality. And on the slopes of high-rise bookcases they fought for the ability to reach every book in the library. Victory was near, but the power of loftiness could not be undone. In was in this moment, when all hope had faded, that Ashley, all five feet of her, took up her last blade of patience. Sauron, enemy of the free peoples of middle-earth--

Well, it was supposed to be a gripping epic of her victory over the bookcase.

But no amount of stretching, jumping, and internal cursing in any language was going to get the book down. She thought about seeking out a stool, but her pride likely wouldn’t survive the journey. One did not simply walk around looking for a stepstool in a populated library, after all.

So she was reduced to falling back on her heels after a particularly strenuous struggle to reach the hardback just inches from her fingertips. Overhead the spine mocked her in it’s neatly imprinted text.

Epistemology: An Anthology

Not for the first time she wondered if the book was worth so much trouble. But ultimately she came back to the same result. It wasn’t so much about the book any more as it was about her sense of dignity. She refused to give up and walk away. The book (more specifically, the bookcase) was not allowed to win. Not this time.

So she took a step back and sighed.
Her options came down to a shameful retreat and hunt for a stool or chair, a full withdraw until a later date, or the more risky tactic or calling in an additional army. Sauron was beat with an alliance of man and elf, right? So she needed to find her elf king.

Elrond in this case did not arrive as a tall, long-haired beauty with pointed ears and sharp eyes. He had short hair, normal ears, and a sense of pleasantness about him. What mattered at all though was that he was tall. Today the fortunate inheritor of Elrond’s title was Gregory Mackenzie.

Ash took as long of strides as she could manage away from the shelves of books set against the wall. She stopped the instant people were in clear view, and in the same moment her eyes settled on the tallest stranger available, her feet took to moving again. She approached him like a storm, swift and rolling with a dark, serious set to her frame. Her fists were balled at her sides and the exertion expended in the battle thus far showed in the clear signs of frustration across her features. Her jaw was set strongly, and it’s parting gave way to rigid, low-toned words.

“You’re tall.” She spat out instead of a hello or other greeting or any acceptable variety. She said it as if he didn’t know, like it was pertinent that she inform him.
“I need you to get something for me.” There was a thickness in her throat and a hitch in her stomach as she spoke. She didn’t like admitting she needed help. It was shameful, at the least. She tried to compensate for the sensation by staring into the boy’s eyes firmly, as if enough intimidating presence would bolster her up over him by inches and feet.

It didn’t work. She just looked like a very angry, very short, young girl with thoughts full of embarrassment and wild irritation.

[Greg Mackenzie]

Tinder. Grindr. Jack’d. Hornet. Scruff. And now, Manhunt.

Greg knew he shouldn’t have gone down that rabbit hole. He knew that there’s just no going back up once he slid down towards the dark unknown. And yet like Alice, the desire to catch that elusive March Hare – which, in this case, was a hot new boy toy that’ll hopefully help him get over his ex – overtook him in a moment of weakness (Lydia, a friend of his, ditched study time with him to be with her own boy toy).

In other words, Greg’s decided that his four-month dry spell needs to end. The thirst had been so real for so long and he’s done ignoring it and now he’s actually dying of dehydration and that was so not included in his list of cool ways to die so he’d rather not.

Yes, the seemingly imposing, heavily-built, six-foot-two hulking is actually a hormonal thirteen year-old girl as shown by his shrill giggling and twitchy spazzing every time his phone notifies him of a message from any of those aforementioned apps. The physics book and the notepads in front of him? A mere façade. The telepath’s been on his phone for an hour now and he hasn’t shown signs of stopping.

He was just about to reply to a cute blonde’s message when he felt something akin to a mild slap to his thigh, only this time it happened to his mind. Or at least he thought it happened to his mind. He’s still quite unsure how his telepathy really worked.

Greg was greeted with quite an unhappy camper when he looked up from his phone. “Uhh, can I help you?” he asked, staring back at the girl and receiving the full brunt of her embarrassment and irritation. “And would you mind toning the attitude down?,” he added, grabbing a bottle of aspirin from his back and popping a few tablets, “You’re giving me a headache. Literally.”

[Ashley Engel]

Eyes narrowed and her jaw set back into a hard line. Which was impressive considering she had the facial structure of a toddler- all rounded edges and soft shapes. Ashley upset was like a porcelain doll with angry eyebrows drawn in with magic marker. She had the physical intimidation of a three-legged chihuahua, and the ability to back her attitude up with very little save for more attitude. Thus being asked to tone it down only made it worse. She was rolling thunder and sparking irritation and lovely Elrond-standin with his phone and his asprin was not helping anything.

“Your headache is your problem.” She snapped quietly. They were, after all, still in a library.
Dear Ash had yet to learn the golden rules of people. Mainly that no one wanted to help someone who never helped anyone else, or at least acted compassionate and grateful about it. She’d grown up immersed in a staff who were paid to wait on her hand and foot, and it largely showed in the way thin laces of confusion wound through her. She couldn’t quite adjust to the idea of someone not ready and willing to assist her at a moment’s notice.

“There’s a book I can’t reach.” The words made her insecurity flare hotter.
She, clearly, entirely missed the fact that her target was claiming a headache despite her barely saying a few words to him. Others more attuned to people might have picked up on the hint of some psychic ability. Ash did not. Ash was focused on her and her needs and her state of being. Which, currently, was getting worse by the minute.
“You’re tall enough to get it. So do it.”

[Greg Mackenzie]

This. Little. Bitch.

“Uhh, yeah, no,” replied Greg with a firm voice, putting his phone down as he crossed his arms and placed his feet on the table. He took a few deep breaths and began rebuilding the mental walls that this little imp broke. She hasn’t shown any sign that she’d be going away anytime soon, and considering how intense her irritation was and their proximity, if the brunette wasn’t careful, she might unintentionally fry his brain with all her negativity. Figuratively speaking, he hoped.

He was just about to rip her apart for being a rude little piece of work when he realized something weird. There was something odd about her demands. From the stray thoughts he picked up they seemed…childish. Like his eight year-old little sister.

No. Way. Is she retarded?

He wasn’t sure if she was, but either way, he felt like he should change his approach, just slightly. “My friend’s boyfriend is smart enough to do my Calculus homework for me, but do I command him to do it for me? No.” While his stare remained solid and strong, his pursed lips turned into a smug grin. “You do know the magic words right?”

[Ashley Engel]

No was, clearly, not a word she was used to hearing from other people.
Eyebrows rose and briefly the anger in her expression gave way to ernest surprise. The change was momentary though, and as quickly as it had washed over her it was gone. In it’s wake the visible irritation returned.

Slowly, Greg’s words curbed it. At first.
She seemed confused by him, not understanding the point he was trying to make. If he knew someone smarter, and capable, why not have them do it? Why on earth wouldn’t he demand the most efficient avenue? Was it a matter of pride? She could understand that, she was much the same way. But if that was the case, then what was he trying to say? That she was better off keeping her dignity and not stooping to ask strangers for help? A fair point. She mulled it over for a moment, before she grew even more confused.

Magic words?
She squinted at him in a hostile, slit-eyed moment of silence. As if to mimic his defensive posture, she shifted to cross her arms over her chest and tilt her chin up. Maybe, if she were taller and of more prominent aesthetic, it would have looked like she was looking down her nose at him. Instead the effect was more akin to when children tried to leer over their parents.

“Magic isn’t real.” She said flatly, missing all of Greg’s points entirely.
“If there were words to make people do what I want I’m fairly certain I’d know them by now.”

[Greg Mackenzie]

If Greg could describe how he’s feeling at the moment, aside from irritation and annoyance, it’d probably be stalked. He’s fairly sure it wasn’t a ‘legitimate’ feeling – usually it’s describe with anxiety or fear or the other two – but Greg insisted that the way the smaller girl looked at him and took in every word he said, the ‘stalking’ was rather neutral in nature. He’d probably use a lioness in the Sahara, carefully observing its prey, only in this case he wasn’t some helpless gazelle but a five-ton elephant who’s aware that he’s being observed and was ready to snap the lioness’ back in half should she make one wrong move.

Figuratively speaking, of course. Breaking backs seemed rather messy. He showered just two hours ago and almost out of body wash so he couldn’t overdo showering. (He’s not in the mood to go grocery shopping just yet).

“It so is! Just the other day a friend of mine lost a tooth and got his Biology homework for the term done the next day!” More like Greg accidentally elbowed a friend a little too hard that he lost a tooth and, feeling so remorseful, decided to do his homework until the term ends. But she didn’t need to know that.

Feeling a little bold, Greg decided to pry a little further. Don’t get him wrong, he was going to help the girl eventually, but not before he had some fun with her. She did start the whole thing by ordering him around like a servant.

He was just about to crawl into her head when he felt an odd familiarity. “Have we met before?”

[Ashley Engel]

Lips parted. She started to say something, but stopped.
A lot of the anger fell off her when Greg spoke. Not because what he said made her feel any less frustrated or embarrassed. It was all only because he was being so damn confusing it didn’t leave her with any room with which to feel upset. (Being short left very limited emotional space, apparently.)

For a minute she just stared at him, cocking her head ever so slightly and studying him with an almost laughably intense level of incredulity. It was worth noting Ash had never been acquainted with the Tooth Fairy. No Santa Claus or Easter Bunny either. All her baby teeth had been explained as a biological growing process and saved by the staff. They’d thought her parents might have wanted them, since some did that. Ash’s didn’t. Her mom called it gross, and Thomas was too clueless to understand what he was supposed to do about it. Ash had opted to throw them out, and that was the end of it. No quarters under her pillow, and certainly no biology homework. Greg was speaking virtual latin. (Virtual only because she actually knew some latin, so likely the dead language would have left her less at a loss than whatever the boy in front of her was spouting.)

Desperately her mind swarmed with theories. Ideas of how to rationally explain what he had said. What the hell kind of process would entail missing teeth and mysteriously completed and delivered homework? A theif with a guilty conscious? But why would someone steal teeth- they were just mostly enamel and dentin, which as far as she knew had no practical use when not in someone’s jaw.

Greg asking if they’d met before didn’t make anything any better.
Ash blinked repeatedly, going as far as to back up a step as if that little extra personal space would reduce the extreme levels of weird.

“No. Never.” She stared at him, absolutely certain. She would remember someone this outstandingly strange.
“Why?”

She didn’t even bother asking about the teeth and biology. It just.. It just wasn’t worth it. She was resigning to giving up that front. Point one to Not-Elrond.

[Greg Mackenzie]

Unfortunately, Ashley’s answer fell on deaf ears. The Canadian teen was very certain he’s met the girl before, or at least heard of her, and nothing she’d say could say him otherwise. Other than admitting that indeed, they’ve had prior interaction before – nothing as “proper” as now, but maybe having a class together or bumping into each other in the hallways or something. None of which has happened before though, so yeah, poor little Ashley’s out of options. At the moment anyway.

Greg squinted as he leaned closer to Ashley, as if doing so would show something he hasn’t seen before. He stopped when he was around six inches away from her, then instinctively bit on a finger as he leaned back to his chair. “Omigosh I got it! You’re Ashley! Ashley Angel, the Angel of Doom!” He naturally shouted the first few syllables of the sentence, his excitement making him momentarily forget that he was in a library. He tried to pull back as quickly as he could when he remembered, resulting into an oddly squeaky voice, especially one coming from someone with his build.

“Wait, is it true that you fried your roommate’s brain off in Kocher?” he asked, smile nearly reaching his ears, “Or that you keep all your nail clippings since birth in a pink jewelry box?” Rumours abound in high school after all, and Hammel wasn’t spared. The fact that more than half of its students were in residence only made the gossiping worse actually. “You’re not going to kill me now are you?”

[Ashley Engel]

The proximity was bad enough. But the drivel pouring out of his mouth?
Ash’s nose wrinkled with the force of the scowl she gave Greg. The more he said the more she thought about leaving. Not just the library, but the school entire. There would be legal trouble, and lord only knew how Benjamin would take the news. But maybe if she explained how awful it was, Cain would understand and hide her.. Somewhere no one would go looking, like Nebraska. Ugh, but what the hell would she do in Nebraska?

“Engel.” She said sharply. Her pronunciation was as rigid and hard as her expression.
“It’s Ash. Engel.” She hated her first name in full, and she really hated people messing up her surname. It was not that hard. But apparently people didn’t understand how to exchange vowels. Nevermind the ‘angel of doom’ title, whatever the hell that was supposed to mean.

“First off, as nails are just keratin, keeping pieces of them serves no purpose. Secondly do you really think if I had and could fry someone’s brain I’d be here listening to you spout nonsense?”
She crossed her arms and stared at Greg a little too easily. In most people, veiled comments about murder were generally jokes. Empty threats, playful insinuations. Ash did not seem the type to indulge in either. Her implying she’d pop Greg’s head like a grape if she could was not a sarcastic remark. The only thing keeping her from taking people out at any given point was just patience, ability, and a tricky legal system. And in the moment Greg had shot straight through all her remaining patience.

“And I don’t even own a jewelry box, pink or otherwise.”
She huffed, like that detail among all the others was so outstandingly in need of correction.

[Greg Mackenzie]

Girl did have a point. If Greg had the power to fry someone’s brain out with a mere thought and someone as amazing and awesome and witty as him was mockingteasing him the way he was with her at the moment, he would’ve fried their brain even before the kid can get a second sentence out of himself. So in a way, the whole ‘angel of doom’ rumour was busted. Or should he say ‘engel’?

“Fine, fine, you win you little minx you. I’ll save my questions about the other rumours surrounding you some other time,” giving the girl a wink and reaching out to tussle the girl’s hair, not unlike how he’d do with his little sister, “But if I help you grab that book, what will I get in return?”

[Ashley Engel]

“Other-” She cut her own words off.
She didn’t want to know. She didn’t need to know. Other rumors? Not her business. People would always say things, she guessed. It had to be guesswork because she’d never gone to any other proper school save Kocher. She’d gotten the rundown on what rumors were and why they got started over there, so she at least didn’t have to have that embarrassing conversation again. But it didn’t much help her understand the nature of them. Why were they always so nonsensical and outlandish? A rumor that she killed someone was somewhat believable, but nail clippings? Where would that even derive from? She was better off not thinking about it, and she told herself that repeatedly. It didn’t really make the irritation and confusion go away, though.

Greg touched her. Messed her hair.
There was a popping sound from her hands as she balled them tight enough to crack a few knuckles. She did not like physical contact, and the pure wave of rage that rolled off her in response made as much clear. Slowly, as sternly as someone like her could manage, she reached up to straighten her hair all while glaring up at Greg.

It was only his small shred of logic that kept her there.
Rumors and touching she would never be fond of. But business she understood, and that she could engage in. Greg wanted payment, and that was only fair. The big question was what he considered fair trade.

“What is it you want?” She fought to reign in the sense of anger boiling in her stomach as she spoke. If he wanted money, she had plenty. Lots of smarts, too, for whatever that was good for. Beyond that, she wasn’t sure what she had that someone as.. whimsical as him could have a use for. But nearly anything was on the table in her mind. There were a lot of things she’d do to get that damn book and salvage what parts of her pride were left after such an exchange.

[Greg Mackenzie]

“What is it that I want?” Greg repeated, absentmindedly tapping his chin with his right hand as he bit his lip just slightly, “That is a very terrible question to ask.” In hindsight, he should’ve seen this one coming. It was the most logical path (or the only logical path even) their conversation could’ve gone with the way he replied. The Canadian teen found it hard to answer Ash’s question mostly ‘cause he didn’t know the girl at all.

If she was one of his friends, it would’ve been something ridiculous like wear a bright red thong for three days, ala John Tucker Must Die.

If she had been one of the boys he’d been pining over, a datecoffee would’ve been sufficient.

If she was a known smartypants in class, private tutoring sessions until he’s caught up.

But since she was barely an acquaintance, he didn’t know how far to push her within acceptable bounds. You don’t just ask something life-changing with someone you’ve met barely half an hour ago after all.

“A cupcake,” he said finally, the answer dawning on him when he looked around and saw an Asian girl munching on some donuts a few tables away, “More specifically, a red velvet cupcake. There’s a bakery downtown, the Pie Hole, that sells these awesome cupcakes the size of my head. One should be sufficient payment.” Greg was trying his best to appear neutral and convincing, and not haughty and arrogant, so he stopped himself from smiling and spoke in an even tone. Which was hard to do, considering he was all but serious in his request. He didn’t really expect Ashley to go do it. It was hard enough to seem realistic, but also crazy enough to deter someone to actually go through with it.

He was tempted to apemimic the way Ashley spoke, but he decided against it last minute. No need to agitate the girl more than he already did. “Sound like a deal?” he added, expecting his arm out for a handshake.

[Ashley Engel]

She blinked. Waited. Listened.
He had to be joking. A cupcake? That was it?

Ash, for one, didn’t like sweets.
For two, she’d never really led a life of want. Certainly not for food. When she wanted something she ordered it, and it arrived. That simple. Thus, a lot of the finer points of life like special foods or excursions were lost on her. When one could have everything at the drop of a hat, everything in the world suddenly became bland.

So Greg’s offer seemed almost insultingly simple.
Ash made a mental note to procure a cupcake, and something extra. She wasn’t sure what the boy was interested in, but she’d find something. Surely figuring a person’s likes out couldn’t be that hard.

Her hands at her sides opened as she eased into the idea, but balled up again at the sight of a handshake being necessary. It was another agreeable, natural turn of business. But physical contact was not something she dealt with well. For a moment she hesitated, and it might have seemed like reluctance against Greg’s terms.

But all at once she slapped her hand firmly into his, shaking strongly for someone her size, and nodding.

“Fair enough, then.” She was eager to pull her hand back and turn away, towards where the book was. “The book is on the top shelf of the back wall case. Epistemology: An Anthology- the blue one.” Hesitantly she took a step away, expecting Greg to follow where she led.

[Greg Mackenzie]

Greg was a little taken aback by how strong and firm Ashley’s handshake was. Especially for someone her size and, well, attitude. He figured he’d act all cold and try to pretend to hate touching his hand. Or something similar. He didn’t expect a handshake that seemed so, well, normal. And business-like.

It made him almost laugh out loud.

“Umm, wait a minute,” said Greg, grabbing a post-it from his bag and quickly scribbling a quick note. Once done, he promptly tore the neon pink post-it, folded it into half (sticky side on the outside, of course), and handed it to Ashley. “So you’d know where to send the cupcake and who to send it to. Generally anyone in my room can be trusted, except for Dylan – he’s blonde – and Demetrius – he’s a weirdo. So basically if T.K. – he’s the token black dude in the room – or I am not in the room, don’t leave it.” He gave Ashley a wink and grabbed the said book without much effort. Just a simple stretch of his arm, not even bothering to go on his toes. “This what you’re looking for?” asked Greg with a grin, dangling the book just a little above the poor girl’s head.