fandomhigh | Library; Wednesday [ 01/09 ]

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Library; Wednesday [ 01/09 ]

There was an almost ceremonial feeling in the air as Adah limped into the library; it hadn't been a while since she'd been there, no, of course not, but it had felt like it had been a while since she'd opened it. Not that she ever did an exceptional amount of work while she was there, but she limped in, found the desk, carefully pulling out her chair. She had a seat, centered it carefully, and then settled her bag on one corner. She then meticulously angled the books so that they were balanced with everything else on the desk. She brushed a hand over the surface, leaned in close, and blew a stream of air over imaginary dust. And then she was prepared to start the day, after a theatrical, though extremely quiet, mouse-like cough at the imaginary disturbance of her lungs.

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River certainly had a good, strong flow of words to go from; in fact, Adah was so busy with a repeated and backwards recitation of a long line of topics associated with the book (despite being in a section that had nothing at all to do with the book), that she was completely caught up in the stream. So when there was another hand suddenly in the equation, Adah jumped, slightly, a jerking sort of action that nearly had her dropping the book. And then she blinked, the words suddenly cut off and tumbling in a crumpled, discarded pile on the floor of her brain, and she realized it was River, and the sudden stiffness faded slightly.

Only slightly, though, because she shouldn't have let herself be surprised like that.

She shouldn't have done that of course. From her side of the shelf River reached out a hand, her own fingers towards Adah's, as an apology.

Adah settled a steady glance through the space left in shelf; she took a moment to awkwardly bend to pick up what had fallen. She should just put the book right back in the slot over River's fingers for scaring her like that. There was, of course, a playful tone to it, but there was also a strong aversion against so readily accepting an apology. It was, after all, in the library that she was struck with a collapse that had her braindead for a week. It was only animal instinct.

Animal instinct made River's eyes turn sad and worried. Once again she had tried to play a game Adah didn't appreciate. If Adah didn't want fingers, perhaps she wanted an apple. River placed a ripe, red apple on the shelf.

Luckily, it would seem, hunger was a bit of an animal instinct, too. Adah's expression lightened. She set the books in her arms aside on another small bit of blank shelf space nearby before going to reach for the apple, with a small nod of thanks in response before she pulled it closer, curled it with her hand against her checks. She tilted her head as she looked through the space; what was she still doing over there, anyway? River should come to this side. Her head quirked slightly toward the end of the row, and Adah started limping that way. She'd meet River halfway. Or as close to halfway as she could get, since River was certain to move much more quickly.

This was a dilemma. Should she slow down and meet Adah halfway, or should she move at her normal speed and get further than halfway? Of course, Adah would know if she was deliberately moving slower, and she didn't need help.

River walked long, graceful steps, running her hand along the backs of books. When she reached Adah, her arm slipped around the other girl's waist instead.

Adah took the arm around the waist as an invitation to lean a good deal of her weight against River, her head lolling slightly to rest against River's. She been doing a lot of walking lately, a lot of talking. It wasn't help, she told herself. It was just taking a moment to appreciate what was there.

Of course, and River certainly appreciated it too. She held her head against Adah's, just listening to her mind.

Adah's mind was busy filling River in on the last few weeks, working, of course, backwards, from her latest employment at the clinic to the bird in the tree and Glitch's case of mistaken identity. Half a brain, she emphasized; once upon a time, he had half a brain, and he thought like Adah did, which put him very high in her opinion. She carefully attempted to skirt around various aspects of the week that she knew River probably wouldn't want to know; of course, in decisively skirting around what else she did at the picnic and afterward, on Sunday in a different row of these shelves, she probably brought attention to them, which is why she shifted, drawing her eyes toward River in an urge to have her talk about her week, as if those thoughts didn't happen.

Adah working at the clinic was a good thing, and friends with half a brain was too, like birds in trees. But those thoughts that was to be avoided stuck out, and River couldn't, even if she tried, call them good. And she refused to call it dancing. "I danced," she said, referring to the picnic, "but not with you." There might have been an attempt to kiss her.

The kiss was certainly accomplished, but lightly, and slightly offstandish. Something about the comment had registered as a criticism, when River knew perfectly well that Adah didn't do...wasn't entirely capable of doing...that kind of dancing. Besides, she didn't seem to have any trouble getting the Prophetess of Tragedy to help her in that pursuit. She didn't need Adah for that kind of dancing. It wasn't thought with malice, of course, just a fact, and any irritation in it came from River's relentless isistence on bringing it up.

"Different kind of dancing with you," River reminded Adah, "one that I don't do with any new student who shows up." She leaned her head against Adah's again, her arm wrapping itself tighter around her waist.

Adah frowned a little, but she leaned against River a little more. It wasn't exactly like she was doing it with any new student who just showed up, either. In fact, she probably couldn't even if she wanted to. Reaching up to lightly brush at the ends of River's loose hair, she reminded River that mind readers were pretty far and few between, even here, so the chances of dancing like that with anyone else was pretty unlikely.

Well, Adah figured, lightly teasing, there was always the Lieutenant...The idea actually even made Adah snort slightly with a laugh.

"You make her head hurt," River replied quietly, feeling the need to defend Kerrigan. Still, to River that was strange too. "You make me want to dance like with no one else," she whispered in Adah's ear.

Despite herself, that whisper in her ear made Adah smile lightly, and she tilted her head in amused questioning toward River's. So she didn't make River's head hurt at all?

"No." She pressed her face against Adah's shoulder, suddenly blushing. "Wish Kerrigan was my mother," she mumbled. "But with you I want to dance." Yes, she might be repeating herself, but she hoped by now that Adah would understand that she didn't mean something she was unable to do. "Something you're very good at."

Adah felt a little bit bad about the joke now, with a response like that, but she decided, especially since she was feeling bad, that she wouldn't focus on it. Instead, trying carefully not to disturb River's own positioning, she squared her shoulders a little bit with the fact that there were a lot of things that Adah was good at, yes.

"Plenty of things." River nibbled at Adah's neck and twisted a strand of her hair around her finger.

There was a slight squirming in response to the nibble, and a red-face, but appreciative, smirk. River was good at plenty of things, too, including propagating River's status as just about the worst librarian aide ever thanks to the sorts of thoughts that those nibbles inspired, which she allowed to flow freely. For River's benefit, of course.

That didn't make River likely to stop though. The nibbling continued and River gently nudged Adah further into the hiding place behind the shelf.

Adah's mind was saying one thing, a complaint about how she needed to work, but its validity in actual meaning could be easily questioned by the fact that he body seemed to be responding to a different theory. It moved, not easily, of course, but eagerly at least, in tune with River's nudge, and her head moved, too, neck stretching slightly in a movement that was clear encouragement.

In this case, River chose to listen to Adah's body instead of her mind. She repeated the nibbling, moving up and down Adah's neck, then whispered against her skin: "Let the books watch."

After all, books were limited on the stories they could tell. More than what most people imagined, but they were bound to the mere forms of the words already contained within. Backwards, forwards, upside down. This was a good thing; if they could modify their stories, they'd have quite a few to tales to tell about Adah. But, in the continued shifting, now to intercept River's nibbles awkwardly with a kiss, she seemed confident that it wasn't anything she'd have to worry about.

River certainly didn't worry, and had no objection to moving from nibbling to kissing, and added more playing with Adah's hair. Perhaps the knowledge of those memoires of Eels and a need to try and overpower them added some intensity and need in those kisses, but all River could think of was the moment right there.

[Bedtime for me!]

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Library; Wednesday [ 01/09 ]

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