Library, Wednesday [ 09/19 ]

[ecirpnellehada.livejournal.com]

There are seven ways for a foot to touch the ground, each with its own particular power. As she came into the library today, to open it up, to stay, to be expected to do nothing more than curl up and point others in the right direction when she herself was pointed so awkwardly, Adah was thinking about spreading ashes and how she used to watch things like that, if the dancer was interesting enough, but it hadn't done her much good in the long run. Still, she was thinking maybe she should start watching again.

Comments

Re: Lunch -- 09/19

[ecirpnellehada.livejournal.com]

It was a book; of course it ended. Everything ended eventually, just like everything made Adah tired, so she looked up at River with an apologetically exhausted look. Her brain had to work overtime for even the smallest compensations, it seemed.

Re: Lunch -- 09/19

[moonbrain-tam.livejournal.com]

River returned the look, her apology being for making Adah tired. She bit her lip and tilted her head, placed her palm across the page, covering the diagram of the brain and moved her fingertips close to Adah's. "Will go now, leave you to work."

Re: Lunch -- 09/19

[ecirpnellehada.livejournal.com]

Hesperus bringing together, all that the morning star scattered. It was a good thing Adah was feeling tired enough to be able to recognize the futility of her reaction to such a small movement of a hand. The same string of emotions that always flooded from her, confusion and fear and apprehensive tension, and then they've be followed by the fact that feeling them and trying to decide how to react to them made no different, because, no matter how she acted, River saw all paths. Best to just keep her hand there, kept in middle, in the neutral, not pulling away or moving closer, although her couldn't help a small curling in of her fingers, staring at the two hands. Two hands like snakes. Don't move, and nothing will happen. Try to move, and you'll get bitten.

Re: Lunch -- 09/19

[moonbrain-tam.livejournal.com]

Letting their fingertips meet, River looked up at Adah. "Wouldn't bite you," she said quitely, then pulled away andslipped down of the desk, her movement fast and sudden. It wasn't until she was halfway to the door that she noticed she'd left her fruit knive on the table. Adah could keep it, she decided and threw a smile over her shoulder before disappearing out of the room.

Re: Lunch -- 09/19

[ecirpnellehada.livejournal.com]

Adah hadn't noticed the knife; it, like her half of the apple, had gone mostly forgotten and would remain that way for a while. She stared down, still, at the book, at the ghost of where River's hand had been. Her own fingers curled slowly in toward each other, lightly touching, reminding her what touch was like so she could figure out if that was a touch just a second before River took off, flash of motion, or if it was just the brain, compensating for the want to touch.