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party wurmple never sleeps. only dances.
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Isaac was loud.

Isaac was really, really loud. It was grating even at the best of times, when Bryony was just trying to read or focus on work and his ‘whispering’ would echo across the classroom, and this wasn’t even close to being the best of times. Maybe he was just one of those people who didn’t have a volume dial, and for Bryony to dislike him just for that would be incredibly petty.

But that wasn’t just it. He also seemed to have absolutely no spatial awareness. This wasn’t a secluded area out of the way of the general populous where no-one would be able to hear what was being talked about. Nor was it a hustling, bustling lunch room, where no-one who wasn’t sitting next to you would be able to eavesdrop on your conversation without trying. It was an unhappy medium of the two, a small semi-filled café that, right now, was just a little too quiet.

Bryony felt sure several pairs of eyes were looking straight at her table right now. They were piercing right through her, wondering exactly what the fuss was, and tuning in to try and hear every single word that she and the people around her was saying. She was sure of it. She wanted to escape, to run away, but to where? Home wasn’t an escape. Not now, anyway. Bryony willed herself to shrink even smaller, to disappear in her seat, for Isaac to just leave her alone.

Maybe the problem was that he had too much spatial awareness. That he knew people would be watching him, the kind and courteous gentleman, helping out people in need.

“Please… please, just… leave me alone…”


"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
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The Funny Thing Is, I Keep On Returning Over and Over · Kingman Museum of Art and History