fandomhigh | Library; Wednesday [ 09/26 ]

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Library; Wednesday [ 09/26 ]

Beto nki tutasala? Opening the library, of course. No Congolese word for library, for they have no books. But they have poets, in the simplest of things. Adah had liked that.

She wondered what would happen if she put a sign on the door today that simply read "Uoy Knaht. Yadot Flesreh ot ecaps eht lla ekil dluow Hada; desolc yrarbil." It was a nagging question, but she had already sat down, and walking over there was too much effort. Besides, she didn't need to whole space; a small barrier of books, like a circle of ashes, would suffice just fine.

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Adah was reluctant; part of her just wanted to maintain the gazing to see if she could manage to keep it unfaltered, but the movement of the Eel's fingers caught her attention more and dropped her eyes to watch them move, head tilting in an attempt to make out if there was any purpose, or rhythm or reason to them, or if they were just moving for the sake of moving. She let out a soft sigh, a happy one, considered having her fingers interrupt his in some off way to thank him for recognizing that about her, not bothering to hide things, with a slight stab of guilt for how much she was constantly trying to hide. She didn't do that as often with him, though, she realized, and that thought it was caused her hand to creep forward a little, fingers like the leg of a spider to close of bit of the distance. Not entirely all the way. That could be his open invitation.

He caught the movement and looked down, watched her fingers come closer and, in turn, swirled his fingers closer. Not entirely touching, not yet, but ghosting near the tips of her fingers, around the sides of her hand before they returned to their original position.

He looked up, caught her eyes before he closed that last bit of distance, took the invitation and used one finger, softly, to run just over hers, near the knuckle.

Smiling lightly, Adah closed her eyes and mused to herself how it wasn't really very fair, that something as small as a brush of a finger against hers would have such an effect on her. But touch was just something Adah had never been used to; she was used to people regarding her deformity as if it were something contagious. But injustice never ruled forever (thank you, Seneca), and, maybe, eventually, she'd be able to keep her body from shivering, her shoulders from shifting, her lips from curling up into that expression that was betraying any attempt to not seem effected.

Still wasn't fair; lifting her heavy eyelids, she glanced over to Lee, wondering if he had any idea at all the sort of injustice he dealt.

"Soft hands," he said, keeping his eyes on hers and moving that one finger up a little higher, touch still gentle, until he was drawing light circle on the top of her hand.

He dropped his eyes then, watched his finger on her hand for a few moments before looking back up at her and saying, "Capable hands."

Singular. Hand. Not plural, only one. The right hand was useless, limp. If the Eel was passing his fingers across its back, Adah might not even even notice that it was happening. Nothing but dead nerves, skin, bone. But this....of course it was capable. It had to be. She did everything with that hand. That hand that feeds, the hand that reached, grabbed, felt, talked. Her strongest asset, her only weapon. And she was letting someone touch it. Very suddenly, it became very clear why something so simple to other people was built into a complex in Adah. Very suddenly, there was a flash of panic in her eyes, and then, with a jerk of her body reacting faster than her brain, her hand pulled away sharply. Her face filled with red, but it was too late now and, besides, even if she told her hand to move back, the body wasn't responding. "..S...Sorry." Shoulder locked, all her supposedly capable hand could do now was curl up against her chest.

"Why are you sorry?" Lee asked gently after he'd realized what happened, had seen the panic in her eyes and watched her hand curl away from him. "You don't have to apologize to me for that. It's all right. Are you all right?"

Adah's mouth opened like she was going to say something, but it was faltering, and really, it was just fer feeling like she was losing more control again. Sharply, she steeled herself enough to make sure she could give her head a shake, to assure him that she was oaky, she was fine, fine, fine...Just needed to get her shoulder loose, loosen the elbow to unfurl the tucked arm. This was exactly what she'd been thinking to River the other day, that loss of control, the loss of everything, and the panic...Dog, the panic, like drowning...

She closed her eyes tight, against everything else but her own breathing. She was fine, fine! She just needed a moment...just herself, her half brain, her disobedient body.

"All right," he said quickly, straightening up for lack of not knowing what else to do. "Should I..."

He'd been about to say 'help' but he remembered that look from the other week and bit that off just before it came out of his mouth.

"...keep talking?" That was lame but he needed to say something. "Or be quiet?"

It didn't really matter; Adah had tuned everything but herself out. Control was important, the most important thing. She had to suspend everything and get everything aligned again, balance things, balance the mind, the body, the nerves...Slowly, her hand began to uncurl, her hand went to the desk and her fingers spread out. She took another breath, another moment. Her fingers inched across the space for her pen.

She wasn't quite organized enough to write something witty like she'd prefer. All she could scratch out was "I'm fine..."

"Okay," he said, nodding once and taking a quiet breath. "Okay. I brought you something. I almost forgot."

Adah blinked again, giving her head a small shake. Her brain was still reeling a bit, and her body was feeling suddenly exhausted from the backlash.

"You did?"

"Yeah," he said, smile returning just slightly. He bent down, picked up the book (http://en.battlestarwiki.org/wiki/Arts_and_Literature_of_the_Twelve_Colonies#Kataris) he'd been carrying and slid it towards her slowly.

"I got a package from home the other day," he explained. "And my mother sent me this. From my father's bookshelf and pretty well regarded among the Colonials...the military of my world. I thought you'd like to read it."

Mrof detnirp dnuob ni drow nettirw eht ekil kcab Ada gnirb ot sgniht wef. She leaned forward, still slightly guarded, to get a better look at the book. Her lower lip tucked under her teeth.

"I still have to return to you the last book. I've read it. Both ways, a few times."

He shook his head lightly and chanced another smile, this time in her direction. "You can do that another time. I don't mind you having them both. I thought you might like the poems. I even wrote a few notes in there. Nothing huge but I tried."

Adah couldn't help smiling at that.

"Can't possible refuse notes. You'll have to forgive me if I don't dive right in, though; I'm feeling a little tired at the moment."

"Whenever you'd like," he said and nodded. "I should get going, let you have a relaxing rest of the day in the library."

He left his apology unsaid even though it was on the tip of his tongue, ready to pour out.

"It's always good day when I get to talk to you," he did say.

Adah could still tell that it was there, and she was actually glad it went unsaid. He had nothing to apologize for. And, while it would probably forever amuse her when people referred to a meeting with her as that, her smile was for something else he'd said.

There was a slight pause before she wrote back. "I feel..." Slight hesitation, trying to chose the right word, or, at least, the right word for her intent, "similarity. I always enjoy seeing you."

And she was grateful that what happened didn't seem to change the Eel's mind on the matter.

There was happiness at her words. Happiness as well as relief that what happened hadn't changed her mind either.

"If you'd ever like to, feel free to come up to my room," he offered. "If not, you I'm always here on Sundays."

He picked up his bag, slung it over his shoulder before putting his hand back on the desk and drawing his fingers back and forth for a brief moment.

"For what it's worth," he said quietly, "it's still there. Whatever happened here today, what you saw before in my eyes, it's still there. I hope you enjoy the book."

He gave her one more smile before turning and heading out of the library.

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