fandomhigh | Library; Wednesday [ 12/12 ]

Adah must be feeling strangely considerate, or extremely obsessive, as she works toward stacking the books up in overly detailed fashions that should make it insanely easy for whoever worked tomorrow (who even worked tomorrow? Adah should find out, so she could find out if they even noticed her consideration...or obsessiveness) to put them away. Or perhaps to make it easier for her later if she got bored.

Overly bored, anyway.

The only problem with overly bored was that, with Adah, it certainly came with laziness, but that was okay, because it was significantly harder for her to move around than other people. Thankfully, someone seemed to have left a big book'o'Shakespeare (Era Epse Kahs) on the desk, so Adah's brushing up.

Adah thought she had the brilliant idea of making paper cut-outs and reenacting some of her favorite plays with unsatisfactory endings with mute little dolls, but then came to the realization that, wait. She was terrible at making paper cut-outs. It wasn't easy to manage scissors and paper at the same time when you were half crippled, and it was a really good thing she skipped that grade back in the day.

So, instead, she's just drawing them in her notebook. And, yes, you're right. That character didn't stab that other character in the end of that play, but you know what? Adah thinks she should have. So now she is. Huzzah!

It's the Twelfth hour on the Twelfth day of the Twelfth month. Of course Adah is forsaking her tuna on rye for Twelfth Night ~~or meta thereof~~.

Awww. There seems to be an sad unbalance of twelves now. So Adah has left the desk and is limping around putting exactly twelve books back to make up for it.

Yes, it takes her the whole period to do this. Shut up. Walking is hard.

Back to the desk for the final period, of course, and Adah tried to find the least boring, least embarrassing and possibly what would make her look the most intelligent thing to read.

Oh, well. She supposes this book on metaphysical time continuum theory will just have to do.

Up early because it caaaaaan be. Also because I'm not tired now (and watch, I crash in two seconds after saying that).

Gone between 11 am and 7;30 pm EST for work, though, too, ugh, so if I don't respond right away, that's why and SP as always, is love!

River quietly slipped into the library, and was drawn towards the desk by Adah's thoughts. She couldn't help it, the image of the stabbing that appeared in her mind made her smile.

[Yay SP!]

They appeared on both mind and paper, Adah finishing off a dramatic portrature of her heroine standing amid the sketchy lumps of the dead, with a small label at the bottom: Body Count: 131. No, there were probably not even that many guests at the wedding of the scene, but that was why Adah was the artist in this situation, not the poet. As much as she disliked the ending, she was not going to ever presume she could have written any better. The poetry was hard, and the damned bard, for however contrite and refried he was, damn good at his craft.

And, no, she hadn't noticed River yet; multitasking, like poetry, was hard, and her concentration was being poured into her work.

"Possible," River concluded. "Shock and indecision would have made them act unwisely. She would have had to be fast though. Roughly five litres of blood per body, but not all of it might have made it on to the floor. Still, the carpets would be soaked." She spoke mostly to herself, her head tilted, then gave Adah a warm smile.

Adah lifted her eyes frown her notebook with a frown. Most of it was because she hadn't noticed River; rare was the event when she didn't notice something, but she supposed she was distracted enough that she could forgive herself that slight trespass. The rest of it was for what River said, from a technical standpoint. At first, Adah wasn't even sure what she was talking about; she still had difficulties with listening, but, eventually, she was able to piece it and sort it and understand it. Possible, yes, she supposed, if there had been that many people, which was unlikely. That, and they didn't have carpets. Maybe a rug, but probably not.

"Like the idea of carpets," River persisted, even if she too suspected it was unlikely. On the other hand so was the number of guests and the death toll. She made a noise simulating the sound of walking on a blood-soaked carpet. Then with a sudden movement - perhaps too sudden for Adah, as usual - she grapped two pens lying on the desk and began to work out the movements and the stabs necessary, imagining the guests around her. She knew well where to strike.

Adah's nose wrinkled at the imitated sound of footsteps on blood-soaked carpet, but she was grinning lightly; she really wondered if it was accurate. She wouldn't know, but she seemed inclined toward the opinion that it wouldn't be able to make that sound for long, before it all started to dry (Out, damn spot! Tops 'n mad tou!). Her mind was drifting idly toward whether that handy club soda solution would work for blood and how many Ladies Home Journal wives had to distress about massive amounts of blood on their carpets when River moved, and it caused a physical jump, more a jerk in Adah, and she blinked, her head very roughly attempting to make the shift in focus, but she settled again once she realized it was just River, in her mind, dancing again.

Having killed 14 imaginary wedding guests, River let her arms slowly lower to her sides. A few steps and she was next to the desk again, taking one more step to stand on top of it before taking a seat in front of Adah. Her smile meant 'it's good to see you' and 'I've missed you', and perhaps the days of wordlessness would make voicing it aloud unnecessary.

Again, it took Adah some time to catch her periphery up with River's movement and, when River finally settled, so did Adah and her wide eyes, giving a soft sigh. Even just watching River left her feeling tired sometimes, today no exception, but she gave a soft, tired and lazy sort of smile back. Her good arm bent and settled on the desk; Adah lowered her head into it, knowing she wouldn't need it to talk to River, and looked over, slightly up, toward the other girl.

Words were useful, they were fascinating and intriguing, but they weren't always necessary. River reached out, slowly this time, to give Adah time to adjust, and ran her fingers through the other girl's hair and down her cheek.

Adah gave a light smile at the softer, slower movements; she could handle those much better and even, for a while, for the long moment where she wouldn't bother with thinking of anything else, Adah closed her eyes. They opened again, though, looking over toward river, grey and cool, and asking if River knew that she'd made extreme progress in the words yet.

Replying first with a nod and a smile, River then added: "I can hear you," she said quietly. Her gentle, slow movements, fingers against hair and skin, didn't stop. "You sing in words again."

Adah wrinkled her nose a little bit again. Singing with words definitely did make things easier, which left Adah feeling like she should prefer the more difficult way. But she did like reading; going without reading was the hardest part of all. It was fascinating, really, how much a person depended on words in every little detail. A different kind of crippling than her physical inability. A light grin surfaced and she looked toward River for a bit of a confirmation. She did well, though, didn't she? All things considered?

Of course Adah was doing well. River certainly hadn't expected anything else. She bent forward, shifting her position, and brushed the tip of her nose against Adah's shoulder. "Yes," she said, her eyes glittering, perhaps conveying that it wasn't really a necessary question.

Adah was going to shift her head, crane her neck slightly, to nudge her forehead against River's head now closer to her, but the angle didn't work as well in reality as it in her head, so there was a movement, and then she settled back where she had been with a small smirk, as if the sudden slight in confidence had never existed. That's right. Of course she did. It wasn't anyone who could come out of a coma like that and go right back to where she was. Right? Right.

There was the waning confidence trying to sneak up on her again, and Adah hated that. Nose wrinkling a third time, she made an idle demand in her head taht River give her something else to think about. Yes, she had brought it up, but she changed her mind in wanting to talk about it.

"I have a screaming droid baby in my room." It was probably screaming due to the fact that River had left it for Berthold to play with and then tried to make it sleep in the bathroom. "Ethics class. At least it doesn't have a loud mind." Unable to keep her fingers still, River traced the line of Adah's shoulder, placing a light kiss on her ear.

[And I have to flee now, woe]

Lips like lightly tickling fingers, Adah's grin as her shoulder crept up toward where River kissed her ear had a silent, giggling quality to it, before she blinked and shifted slightly to see River better. Her eyes were imploring, a little confused, if it, droid was a word she was not remembering or if it was simply one she was unfamiliar with. Either way, it certainly didn't sound like something very pleasant, possibly something Adah would have simply thrown out the window after about five minutes and wished she was on the fifth floor, like River, so it would have a longer fall.

All and all, though she didn't realize it, it was probably a very, very good thing that Adah was probably biologically unable to ever reproduce.

"Droid. Robot. Artificial intelligence. Programmed." She grinned down at Adah, leaning closer to brush her lips against hers. "You are welcome to throw it out the window for me. If I do Anakin would be upset." And he was one of the people she really didn't want to upset.

Then River frowned a little. "Last spring our children from alternate realities appeared out of nowhere." It was clear from her expression that this had not been a pleasant experience.

After missing his usual visit last week, Lee's sure not to miss it this week. He's already smiling when he pushed open the door and waving as he headed over to the desk.

Library; Wednesday [ 12/12 ]

First Period -- 12/12

Second Period -- 12/12

Third Period -- 12/12

Lunch -- 12/12

Fourth Period -- 12/12

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