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Cicada Days
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This all reminded Irene so much about how she got when talking about... stuff, something or another. One parts old dead white people theories and one parts video games and Mountain Dew and Irene had the typical recipe of her average fun conversation. Well okay, maybe that was unfair. All conversations were fun, some were just slightly out of her element. By some degree. Okay, most of them were. But Abby, she seemed to have something, a brain child that needed to be birthed.

"Well that's all interesting. Literal interpretation of the book of god is a more traditionalist stance, right? So where do you stand on all of that? Uh, if you're fine talking that kind of thing," Irene hastily added in addendum. She just remembered, some people got really weird when talking about this sort of stuff. All 'fire' and 'brimstone' and 'back in my day people were smited (smitten?) for their trespasses on god's lawn' or however that phrasing went. "But yeah, I mean. Totally English worthy. It's like equal parts English and History and all, super relevant to that integration of concepts stuff the teachers sometimes drill on the start-of-school rubric. Like, I'm sure if we talked to faculty about it..."

If. That was a big question for someone like Irene. Now that Abby was talking about it... Irene couldn't really fathom not having space in her schedule to do nothing of substance. But the one who kept her schedule full was the one who was all nice and pretty and such. Even when she wasn't doing anything she was thinking of the ways she could be doing something meaningful. Irene, well. Even when she was doing something probably worth her time she usually thought of the more mundane aspects of her day. Like 'hey, wonder what I'll play when I get home?'. But, well. it didn't matter that much. Right?

"Uh, it does make sense! I dunno, I just never feel that same compulsion, myself. It must be weird, always doing stuff that's so... serious? Intense? Grown-up?" Oh there was that dreaded word again. They did have multiple conversational threads that Irene was sort of tracking though. The thing with whether Jesus could be 'your mom' joked or not, the now kinda uncomfortable stuff with the real talk. Oh, and League, there it was. Irene flopped off Abby in a fluid roll of her shoulders. Back to Earth she drifted like a particularly obnoxious leaf. The one that refused to get in the pile with all the others no matter how many times it was raked and just sort of sat there and crumbled into ever more aggravatingly tiny pieces. Why move? It was nice and warm on the grass.

"I mean, I'm pretty happy about it. Like I've got my peel support game on point, that used to be my shortcoming bot lane because I'm more aggressive than the Cochise Coyotes on their ninth. But I've added Janna and Lululululu to my roster and I think I'm really getting the whole 'don't roam when I'm not supposed to' stuff down. Just have to get my ward timings on point and I..." Okay, no, there was no way Abby understood, like. Anything at all from the last few seconds of sustained rant. Irene just fell silent on that note, trying to find the punctuation to her last sentence in the cotton fluffies that floated above.

V6 - Like you imagined when you... were young...
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Your Tired, Your Poor, Your Huddled Masses · Grounds