fandomhigh | Library; Wednesday [ 11/07 ]

Adah's finding herself rather pleased with the turns comic books had taken in the forty some odd year gap between now and then. Graphic novels, slevon cihparg. Some of them delightfully dramatic with colors and lines as exciting as the stories herself. To think, she'd pulled Vice Metropolis (http://www.amazon.com/Frank-Millers-Complete-City-Library/dp/1593963149/ref=pd_bbs_4/103-0162558-5111056?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1194413631&sr=8-4) off the shelf with intrigue to the name, but those sudden touches, those vague dramatic lines. They caught her, fired useless sensors in her half brain, and she just about marveled at how they made pictures and associations like that as much as the story itself did.

...It also had her pondering the fact that cannibalism kept showing up around her lately, in an almost eerie parallel to her recent considerations regarding hunger and insatiable consuming...Huh.

Returning from her walk on the beach, River stopped by the library, knowing Adah would be there. They had met yesterday, of course, but River couldn't resist seeing her again, although that need did cause a slight worry at the back of her mind.

She had no apple today though; it had been given to a horse. Instead she brought a small paper bag of acorns, because if Adah wanted to feed the vole skeleton, at least River could provide some of the food, seeing as Adah had referred to it as 'theirs', even though it had been a gift. A shared interest - and River could feed the sibling flying beneath the lamp in her room, casting shadows.

In the doorway she hesitated, wondering if she should just sneak up to the desk and leave the bag there for Adah to find. Quietly, undecided, she approached.

Sensing movement, Adah blinked a few times to break her mind away from the firm blocks of shapes and slashes of colors that had been taking over thanks to the comic book and then lifted her head. Another blink as shakes slowly worked themselves back to reality, taking softer, more rounded forms, more blending colors, and then she gave a soft smile in greeting for River.

"Different kind of food this time," she said, plagin the bag on the desk. "And not for you, unless your diet is unusual." She smiled back, leaning against the desk, all thoughts of hiding gone.

Sparse, true, but her diet was one thing about herself that Adah considered to be pretty normal. Her head tilted a moment at the bag before leaning forward to pry it open enough with two fingers to take a peak inside, and she grinned a little. Those would last the skeleton a while. An eternity, in fact, considering he wouldn't even be eating them. Good.

"Last thing to disappear," River replied happily. "Millenia, more if they petrify." There was no need to inform Adah of that of course. "Longer than acorns, but then again, they won't grow into trees. Pros and cons. Unless the projected shadow from the one I have hanging from my lamp could be considered something similar."

The ground was already getting hard with the cold weather, Adah observed; these acorns may have already missed their chance, anyway. Her head tilted at the bag a moment longer, before giving it a slight nudge with her fingers, moving it just a bit, the slightest shift, but it made a big difference with the angles of everything else on the desk.

"So we save them from the cold and offer a different life as eternal food to dead vole skeletons." River looked pleased, clearly liking the idea of that. She reached out and nudged the bag too, then continued, placing her fingers over Adah's.

One more nudge to ensure the bag was at a good angle before Adah turned over her hand so that her fingers could brush up against River's and she smiled lightly, glad River approved although she felt that plan lacked a little bit of solidity to it, but she was terribly careless in general dead pet maintenance as a whole, so it wasn't too much of a concern.

Graphic novels to medical journals. It started out as a search through what she grabbed to perhaps verify some of the possibilities of what she'd read last period, and ended up being fascinated by a personal account from a man with Asperger's. Mental dysfunctions, always a sandtrap for her, sucking her in, and she'd long learned that struggling only made it worse. Finding similarities, differences. Like the author apologizing for anyone he'd been intimate with, for "making love like the Tinman." This detail fascinated Adah and, owner of her own mental dysfunction, brought around thoughts to her own capabilities. She was much more of a scarecrow than a tinman, she figured, half a body dead without straw. If I only had a brain...

Storybook allegories for sex and stylistic tales of blood and violence are put aside, as always, so that Adah can practice her progress with Japanese. She feels she'd just about got a knack for it, and is thinking about tackling Chinese next, and then translating poems with random bits of French, Kilanga, Japanese, Chinese, Latin, and that language that never had a name that she and Leah made up.

After leaving Gabriel, Karal headed to the library, smiling a tentative greeting at the library aide as he came inside. He recognised her from the Friday before last, when she'd come into the library on his day, but he realised he didn't actually know her name.

Glancing up from her work at someone entering the library, Adah gave the boy a light nod back in response to the smile, and then her head ducked again over her work. She figured, since she'd seen him working here on one of her days of holing up inside, that he wouldn't need her help with anything.

Not wanting to interrupt her, Karal ducked his head then headed into the stacks in search of legends about the sun.

He had an idea.

Adah thought, idly, as she examined pieces of fruit before eating them, that something she hadn't had in a long time was a good fire scorched bug. She remembered that they were an interesting cacophony of taste, acrid, burnt, with the slightest hint of sweetness that made you forget you were eating them because there was nothing else and you hadn't eaten for days...

Adah sorted the tower of books numerically in her head before deciding to work on putting them back. She blew lightly against the stack to see if they'd finally tumble. When they didn't, she pushed the spine of one in the middle until they did, tumbling over with a crash that made her wince. The wince was painful, but she figured it was punishment for the very unlibrary-like sound, grinned, and then went limping around to find their rightful places.

Distractions, thoughts, preoccupations: mostly all leading to part of the day, the end, but, all things considered, all things promised from yesterday, it should be a bit more than the usual clockwork. Krowk colc ekil.

Lee wandered in about the same time as usual, bag over one shoulder and a bottle of water in his other hand.

This time, though, he didn't head immediately to the desk. Instead, he stopped near a book, pulled out a random one, opened it and pretended he was reading. After doing that for a minute, he dropped the book down so she could see his face and started making faces at her. Just because.

Leaning back in her chair comfortably when she realized that he was going to take his sweet time, Adah was more than a little annoyed with herself for feeling annoyed with the Eel over it. Any other day, she would have been aused, built something out of it to tease him about (in fact, even thinking about doing it had inspired in her a line or two already; he really was easy). Not so much today, in light of what she was resolved to tell him. Not too much to ask, all things considered. Her eyes dropped to one o fher notebooks, message already written, fingers toying with the edges of paper, and then glancing back his way as to see if he was finished yet. Or if his face had frozen that way, like she'd always remembered Leah warning Ruth May about.

That...didn't get the reaction he'd been hoping for so he slid the book away and walked over to the desk, frowning.

"Everything all right?"

Adah looked up toward the Eel with regret in her expression, drawing in a light breath, and then, decidedly, slid the notebook forward. Better sooner than later. What made it difficult was the complete cluelessness on her part as to what the response might be, so, this way, she could at least stop being curious.

"River Tam and I have slept together," the paper had been prepared to announce. "The probability that it will happen again is high. She felt you should know."

And then she blinked up at the Eel expectantly, face intentionally blank although the worry and possible guilt that she tried so hard to not believe in might betray her in her eyes. But at least she was straight forward, to the point. No dragging it out, beating around the bush.

"Oh," he said quietly, blinking a few times. "Oh. I, um. Do you...should I stop coming by? I don't...know what this means, you telling me that."

Adah shrugged a shoulder, uncertain of what it meant herself.

"She felt I should tell you," she repeated in the lines of her notebook. "So I did. A balance, because she knew about you. That's all it means."

"That's why she doesn't like me so frakking much," he muttered to himself and rubbed a hand over his face. Quietly, he said, "A balance. I didn't expect this today. And I'm not really sure what you need me to do here."

First Period -- 11/07

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Lunch -- 11/07

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OOC -- 11/07