fandomhigh | Library [08/22]

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Library [08/22]

Jonothon had been... a little lax on his library duties over the summer, he realized. He'd missed a couple of shifts here and there (the fact that Silent Hill was a factor in this meant little to him, no), and today he was looking to make up for lost time with a bit of a vengeance. By noon, he'd managed to shelve the books on the cart, and as the day pressed on, he was going to even pull out a rag and start dusting things.

Because he could, damn it. It didn't matter that it was technically break week, now. He had a bloody job to do.

Ah, productivity.

[Open!]

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"Have you tried writing your nightmares out?" Rosalind asked, glancing thoughtfully at him. "Give them solid form and then they'll leave your head."

It worked, for some things.

//They've already got plenty of solid form to work with, luv.//

There was the hint of something that might have been intended to be a sigh, there, and then Jono ran his fingers through his hair and shrugged.

//I haven't tried, no. But writing it down means I'd have to actually... think about it.//

"It might make them worse for a little while," she conceded. "But acknowledging and dealing with a fear is usually more useful than pretending it is not there."

//Well, I know full well that it's there,// Jono replied. That didn't come out feeling as casual as he wanted, but at least he'd said it. //And I do more than acknowledge it. I keep it from accidentally levelling the island every minute of th'day.//

Yes, Jonothon thought that ought to count for something.

"That's brooding, not dealing with it constructively. That's keeping it locked in where it poisons your thoughts," Rosalind snapped.

//I fight with it,// Jono argued, though it was a halfhearted attempt, really. //It's what I am, gel. I can't afford to stop being afraid of it, because if I do, I might forget it, might just let it go. And people get hurt when I let it go. I can't focus on being comfortable with this and on keeping it from getting away from me at th'same time, and one is more important than a good night's rest.//

"Jono," she said, with patience under the neatly strangled exasperation. "I'm not talking about your powers or your condition. Do you mean to tell me you've got no nightmares from having been in that other world? Write those down. Deal with those ones."

//They tie in together,// Jono replied with another try at a sigh. It fell short, too. Sighs took effort. //It was a world of ashes, luv. You can only guess what my first thought was when I woke up there.//

Did I do this?

"I can guess," Rosalind replied. "Though it speaks of a sorry lack of faith in yourself."

//Not a lack of faith in myself,// Jono countered. //A realistic understanding of just how dangerous this power really is. It's psionic energy in its purest, most volatile state. You can't just step up your confidence in yerself and expect that to be enough.//

He had a nuclear reactor of psychic energies in his chest. He thought it was kind of a big deal, yes.

"And again," she said, with another roll of her eyes. "Back to your powers when I was not addressing those."

//Well, I am. Rosalind, luv, they're... They've kind of become me. It all goes right back to them. It has to.//

There was a healthy dose of Jonothon's fear, gift-wrapped and drifting thick in the air between them. It didn't take a telepath or an empath to pick up on it, there.

And now she was glowering at him.

"You," she said crisply, precisely. "Are not your powers."

//Perhaps not,// he replied, taking this opportunity to glower right back. //But I am governed by them.//

Much as he hated it.

"Even so," she answered, "there is no need to have nothing of yourself in your life."

//I have a girlfriend, I play guitar, I work in both a library and in th'music shop in town. I think it's fairly safe to say that I still have a bit of myself in my life, luv.//

Jono was now reaching for a rag and making a point to dust things. Dusting things, go! He was being all... useful.

//Just... Not as much I'd like, perhaps, when I'm trying to sleep.//

"That's depressing," Rosalind replied.

Because that was oh so helpful, Rosalind.

Rosalind, meet Jonothon's most biting deadpan stare.

//That would explain a fair bit, wouldn't it.//

Really, he'd never noticed.

She gave him a stare of her own back. Hers was more on the impassive side of things.

Then she set the faerie book on the desk and shoved it over to him.

"I read it."

Because there was nothing to be said about his issues right now.

Silence, then, from Jonothon, as he directed his gaze toward the book. Ah, abrupt switching of mental gears. He could handle that well enough.

//And how did you find it?//

Horrible, he wagered.

Rosalind arched her eyebrows.

"A sad and pathetic attempt at literature over all though there are the bones of an interesting story underneath it."

//Oh, excellent,// Jono replied, almost pleasantly again. //Now I know not to read it, myself.//

A pause. And what was very nearly a devilish smile.

//There's a sequel, you know.//

"You cannot be serious."

Even though the book itself had made it clear that there was.

//Or I could be, and it could be sitting on th'shelf right next to where this one goes.// Jono raised an eyebrow, daring her to tell him otherwise, while he went through the motions of filing the book as 'returned.' //And I might just be turning to head down that particular aisle in order to get it, now.//

He was such a helpful library aide!

He was such an irritating aide!

"And you expect me to read it?"

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