Library -- Tuesday

[death-of-hope.livejournal.com]

The fog was creepy. Creeeeeeeep~y, and every Coralian sense that Anemone had was hissing and spitting and standing on end; it wasn't natural, it wasn't right, and it grated like nails against a chalk board on her skin.

Still, the library was open, coffee on and Anemone pacing the aisles, something slightly... off, in her eyes. The library aide was in... you just might not be talking to the one that's usually on-duty on Tuesdays. At least, not completely.

[The OCD is in the House!]

Comments

Re: Talk to the Aide!

[death-of-hope.livejournal.com]

"No." She pressed one hand to the glass, her entire body shifting from her normal bird-like pose to something more fluid, older. "It's just waiting. But that's okay, we can wait too."

Then she was spinning about, skipping off into the stacks again. "I think I'll chase the sentient dust bunnies from under the books. Maybe we can make them into a can-can troupe."

Re: Talk to the Aide!

[one-who-goes.livejournal.com]

Henry held his breath until she was skipping again. He was pretty good at reading people, at sussing out a danger before it turned into a problem, and for a second there she had looked --

Not dangerous. Not exactly. But very Different.

And then the moment was past.

"Let me know if any of them learn the hula," he said, nonsensically, as he began to meander back toward his office.