april
The thick forest taking up a good portion of Gravity Falls' was home to many supernatural creatures. This, of course, was something Pacifica noticed in her 13 years of life in the tiny town. Seeing weird things out amongst the trees was either brushed off as tricks of the light, or maybe some sort of prank the local teenagers were pulling. However, she had seen gnomes with their bushy beards and stubby little legs, nymphs and their glowing skin and beautiful hair, minotaurs (or were they manotaurs? Pacifica always forgot) that smelled absolutely horrid and were incredibly obnoxious, and unfortunately, the remains of a certain triangular demon.
Since November, she had been avoiding a certain area of the woods, knowing what lied in the mud and grass. She didn't want to freak out again. She didn't want a repeat of that particularly awful night where everyone came looking for her. She didn't want to be reminded of Bill's near-destruction of her town, her town, the fact that he nearly hurt her and Mabel and-
But now, Bill Cipher was exactly what Pacifica was looking for.
She figured that there was some chance that Bill was actually alive in his statue-like state, a chance that he could actually hear and comprehend what she had to say. Pacifica also figured that because he couldn't reply, therefore, couldn't voice whatever judgments he had, it would be easy to vent to him. Besides, what harm could he bring her? He was just a hunk of rock, after all.
Pacifica carried in her small backpack a picnic lunch in a brown paper bag and a bit of change so she could stop by Greasy's Diner and get a milkshake after her chat with the demon. As she stepped over branches and patches of thick mud, she racked her mind, trying to remember the way to where Bill was located.
There.
The statue, still half-wedged into the ground, sat with one arm sticking out towards her. Swallowing any negativity, Pacifica made her way forward. She tossed her bag into the grass and eased herself down next to it. For a moment, she stayed put, simply watching Bill. She then cleared her throat.
"I know this is going to sound really stupid, but I need someone to talk to."
Bill's large, frozen eye stared back at her.
"I mean, you can't answer, I know, but I don't know who else to go to..." She shook her head, feeling a bit silly. "I've got a lot going on. Like, a lot. I mean, it could be worse, but things suck." Pacifica leaned forward, resting her chin in the palm of her hand. "Where do I even start?"
Bill did not answer.
"My parents are... Well... Shit. They try sometimes, but I think they care more about our reputation or whatever than they care about me, o-or what I want. It's gotten better since, y'know, your whole near-apocalypse that you caused, because it was sort of like a reality check for them, but they're still jerks. I used to always say that I hated them, and I think I still do. It's always about who's going to what party or what who's wearing or how much someone has." Pacifica blew a strand of hair away from her face, watching it move in front of her eyes for a moment. She then paused before continuing.
"Fiddleford is nice to me, at least. He's really smart, too, and he's actually a really good teacher. When I first found out that he was going to let us move into the manor with him after we first lost it, I was like, 'ew, seriously?' But now he's kind of like my weird uncle or something, I suppose," Pacifica said as she reached for her bag. Holding it in her lap, she reached inside and pulled out the brown paper sack that contained her lunch.
Part of Paz wished that Bill could take part in a real conversation with her. Then he'd be able to give her some sort advice or at least acknowledge the fact that she was talking to him.
"Then there's you. You nearly destroyed my home," she grumbled, pulling out a sandwich and using the paper bag as a plate. "My home! I had nightmares for weeks about all of the terrible things I had to witness, and there wasn't anybody I could go to about it, because I was afraid!" She balled her hands into fists. "And don't even get me started on what you did to my friends."
She hung her head. "But at least some good's come out of all of this. I'm closer with Wendy now, a-and Mabel and Dipper. Fiddleford, too," Pacifica murmured. "I have a better family, I guess."
When Bill failed to reply to her venting again, Pacifica let out a soft sigh. "I don't think this is working for me. You're too quiet, I'm sorry. I thought-" Paz paused to let out a frustrated huff, "I thought talking to a goddamn statue would substitute for actual conversation. Maybe I'm losing it."
Pacifica stood up, brushing the dirt off of her jeans and tugging her baggy mustard-colored sweater back onto her shoulder. "See ya around, jerk," she uttered to Bill before turning back towards the way she had come.
When Pacifica returned home, she tugged out one of her golfing outfits from the back of her wardrobe. It had been months since she had even practiced the hobby, but she decided that now was as good of a time as any other to pick it back up. Carrying her clubs with her, she made her way out to a side of the yard where her father had set up a place for the two of them to practice and placed a ball on a tee.
Who are you even going to talk to about your problems? It's not like Mom and Dad are going to be any help.
Swing.
It'd be too weird to talk to Fiddleford or Ford or Stan.
Pacifica set another ball on the tee.
You can't talk to Mabel about EVERYTHING. Dipper's always busy.
Swing.
Don't even THINK about talking to Tiffany. Besides, she wouldn't get it.
Tee.
Maybe Wendy? She wouldn't judge me or anything, but she could give advice.
Swing.
I could come by the shack soon to talk to her. She'll know how to help.
Tee.
After all, she always seems so laid-back.
Swing.