Sympathy for the Vegetable [open]

[Autumn Buckland]

Carrot sticks are, for some, a flavoursome, healthy snack, but for those in the know, they are a terrible slaughtering of innocent young vegetables, drowned in sour cream and chive. In the world Autumn inhabits, the poor carrots were plucked, young and nubile from the earth, and then violently attacked with peelers and knives.

Of course, some vegetables LIKED to be eaten, but since Autumn has red hair, she has an affinity with these poor little things. Pushing the plate of sorry little vegetables to the side, she looked pitifully at them and sighed, lifting one up and eying it with a green eyed stare. The carrot stick said nothing, and she quietly placed it back down amongst its fellow parts. Dismembered vegetables were not her favourite supper. Pulling over the bowl of beef stew, she managed a smile and began to twirl lumps of beef round and round in the starchy broth, memories of the caravan swirling up in the less-starchy broth of her brain.

"Well Mr. Stew, you are far more preferable than your vegetabley comrades, so I shall be eating you." Autumn said simply, jabbing her fork in a piece of the beef and popping it in her mouth with a slow chew. Until Spring came, the little redhead was reliant on the nutrients of food - sun was scarce and when it did come, the chill in the air made her want to sleep. When it rained, it was cold, then it froze and she sat trembling with a scarf wrapped in bunches around her neck and her fingers trapped in woolen mittens she'd made herself.

It was too cold to try and escape Hammel at the moment.

Her bed was warm and the pitcher plant in her room murmured secrets that it had heard from the girls that passed the halls. The smell of potatoes and earthy warming foods kept her stationary for now.

Fingering her beads with a little huff, Autumn forked a few more lumps of meat in her mouth, then scooped up the carrots, wrapping them lovingly in a napkin. "Rest in peace little carrot." She said sweetly, pocketing them, then making plans to bury them in their own private funeral in the grounds later.

[Lindsay Aycliffe]

Ugh, cold weather... even if it didn't pose any other annoyances than it would for any other normal human being, Lindsay still hated winter with the passion of a million burning Chuck Norrises. If only she could somehow find the season's jaw and deliver a roundhouse kick the Texas Ranger would be proud of, then maybe the sun'd stay out for longer than a few minutes at a time and the damnable snow and ice would finally melt - but that was beyond the blond's reach, so she settled for putting little palm tree figurines in Goldfish #42's tank and half-assedly pondering training the poor fish to do the hula. The circular motion she needed from him (or, at least, she thought it was a him!) wasn't too terribly removed from the back-and-forth sort of movement he used when he was swimming around, hmm... maybe it could be done?

Such is what she pondered as she made her way through the lunch line, the junior dressed in a pair of jeans that had been new sometime back before she was born and a long-sleeved thermal t-shirt that was bright green in color, the words 'Shakespeare HATES your emo poetry' scrawled across the front in white cursive. A bowl of Jello was snagged here, a bowl of stew there-- and then she reached the salad bar, and the blond's thoughts jumped from hula dancing goldfish to... genocide?!

"Salads are only for murderers, coleslaw's a fascist regime. Don't think that they don't have feelings just 'cause a radish can't scream..." Lindsay's singing voice managed to be at least vaguely pleasant for a change as she helped herself to some cottage cheese, a great deal of assistance given to her in that endeavor by the monotonous nature of the Arrogant Wurms' delivery. "I've heard the screams of the vegetables watching their skins being peeled... grated and steamed with no mercy, how do you think that feels?" Lins' ponytail bobbed and swayed as she found herself subtly swaying to the music playing in her head. So what if she was doing something unusual in a public place?

It was just business as usual.

[Autumn Buckland]

Autumn's mind had since drifted further to the funeral of the little carrots that had been brutally massacred to make a healthy snack for some bimbo on a diet. She would grow some carrots herself in the secret garden she had made with her friends, and make sure they would be willing to dive into soups, salads and stews with eager abandon. Patting the pocket of her dress, she continued to twirl the lumps of beef round and round till the whole bowl resembled some sort of brown mountainous range, crumbling potatoes framing the masterpiece.

Suddenly, as though snapped out of some strange dream, Autumn lifted her head and looked over at Lindsay, catching her words and smiling to herself. Setting the stew to one side, she stepped over the chairs and wandered over to the girl, peering over her shoulder curiously. "Yes." She said woefully, looking at the salad with a shake of the head. "Many vegetables die before they are ready, but only those in the know are aware." Her voice was low and sad, a little shake of the head signifying her disappointment in the human race. "Tell me. How do you feel about beetroot?"

The young redhead looked deadly serious, offering a heavily braceletted hand out to be shook. "How did you learn of the plight of the vegetables?" Autumn continued, taking the dead carrot sticks out of her pocket and looking down at them. "I am holding a burial later, would you care to say some words?" In the girl's mind, her way of thinking was the way everyone else was secretly thinking but too shy to admit, and thus, she showed no shame in mourning vegetables only she would have heard even if they had still been in the ground.

She would have to tell Eric later that Hammel was killing carrots to feed its students. It was murder.