Library, Thursday

[death-of-hope.livejournal.com]

"We are the hollow men/We are the stuffed men/Leaning together/Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!" The book Anemone was toting around was large and dusty as she did a pirouette with it. "Our dried voices, when/We whisper together/Are quiet and meaningless/As wind in dry grass."

She'd fed Special Collections cupcakes again, and a book had fallen off a shelf at her. Anemone figured it was bored and wanted to be read.

"Or rats' feet over broken glass/In our dry cellar."

[OOC: OCD got distracted by cupcakes and I did not spend all morning thinking it was Wednesday. Hush.]

Comments

[death-of-hope.livejournal.com]

Anemone shrugged, un-offended at his comment. "Every generation has its own revolution, right?" she asked. "I was a part of the last revolution, but it wasn't mine. Maybe my part of creating change is to institute a literacy and culture requirement for people serving under my command."

"We just made a brave new world. Maybe I'll start by lending my personal library out of a box in my apartment, but I doubt it will be too long before new books start to grow and collect together."

[one-who-goes.livejournal.com]

"They do seem to like doing that," Henry said. "At least, that's how I rationalize my apartment. I don't buy nearly as many books as show up."

He smiled at her, slightly. "Take anything from here that you want. We can replace it."

[death-of-hope.livejournal.com]

"I could deplete the whole collection," Anemone said, doing her best to stay completely serious. "What if I took the big monster book out of Special Collections? The one that bites?"

[one-who-goes.livejournal.com]

"Anemone, do you want to take an attack book on a spaceship?"

It struck him as a totally reasonable question.