(no subject)

[minifridge]

Mary's night stand holds, among other things, Artemis the owl's nest, a small potted plant with tendrils growing around the lamp, over the windowsill, up the miniblind string, and around the bars of her headboard, and a small dish full of American money.

* * *
Of note in the top drawer: an empty ring box, her silver hunter's charm bracelet with an engagement ring linked into it.

* * *
The second drawer holds, among other things, what anyone poking around is probably looking for- a handwritten "Recipes" notebook of everything Mary cooks, specifically written in idiot-proof, Camelot-friendly detail.

*
On top of the notebook is her (locked) diary and a thin stationery box with "In case of disappearance" written on in thick Sharpie. It holds:
- the key to the suitcase of weapons and ammo under her bed
- a folded-up, slightly neurotic kitchen fire safety poster
- a folder with 2 unfinished letters: one to Sam, and one to Arthur.

there is nothing here

Dear Sam, I don't even really know what to say here. Starting everything with "if you're reading this, I'm dead, went home, or got eaten by a dragon" seems so silly. Most likely you'll never even read this- I'm writing these for me. Mom used to say that if I had to get something out, I could write it in a letter and see if I still needed to talk to the person, and it always used to work when I wanted to pick a fight with Dad. By the time you read this, if you ever do, it will probably be six pages long and going all the way through Ragnarok. When I first came to Asgard, I said some things to you and Dean that I shouldn't have. I was too mean to both of you, blaming you for everything and acting like you did something wrong. It feels like a long time ago and you're so understanding that I know you know why, but it still wasn't right. I was scared of both of you, and what it meant that you are the way you are. It took me a long time to change that, and when it did change, it was because of you. I- [cross outs and a mess of repeated erasing]-'m really glad to know you. You're sweet, smart, and you make me wish I could have the chance to know you back home, too. I still can't believe I had a kid who went to Stanford! [Some cross-outs and marks from where a decent-sized paragraph has been erased and written over.] After everything that happened with the Darkness, I realized what an amazing friend you've been to me, and [more erasing and false starts] that even if it's still strange and I don't always know what to say to you, you're part of the little family I've found here. [half-erased: nobody can ever read this that sounds so stupid It ends here.]

The next one reads:

there is nothing here

Arthur, [This one seems to have been started about eight different times, if the condition of the paper (and layers of eraser) is anything to go by. The left margin has the half-erased words "Thank you" doodled over and over in very light pencil.] Maybe I could just write a will instead. It's so morbid, but you might flush all my stuff down the toilet if I don't. Even if I wrote something from the heart, you wouldn't believe me anyway- you can't trust a harpy. Besides, you're supposed to will things to your next of kin, and that's you. That shotgun I clean all the time, the one I carved my initials into- if I ever disappear, I want you to have it. I know how you feel about guns, but it's the best one I have. It's just like the one my dad taught me how to use when I was little. Someone from my neck of the woods can show you how to keep it in good condition until I come back. This is STUPID because you won't ever read this anyway, because I'm never going home. I won't let that happen. I have a life to live here, and you're half the reason I even want to- you, Merlin, and Morgana. I'd rather spent a thousand years washing your dishes, cooking most of the food, babysitting everyone from your world so nobody gets electrocuted, and yelling at Morgana for using the hot water than go home and live a life I can't choose for myself. I love you guys and I'm never going back. [There's nothing else but an unreadable, erased attempt at a new sentence.]