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Viewing Single Post From: The Dynamo of Volition
Pippin
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party wurmple never sleeps. only dances.
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It was times like these that Astrid realised Mel was probably amongst the people closest to her at Cochise, by sheer virtue of having spent enough time around each other to know the other’s quirks, and that fucking infuriated her.

Because, come on. Astrid had gone on a rare tangent about something she actually cared about when it hadn’t been (at least in her mind) strictly necessary to the conversation at hand, a luxury she afforded to very few people aside from Sophie. And what did she get from it? A slightly more respectful response from Mel? Some further interest in what Astrid had been talking about? An actually sensible, civilised fucking conversation?

No, she got to be compared to a brutal vagabond with a penchant for decapitation, then given the delightful mental image of herself as a heroic rogue and champion of the poor and downtrodden – okay, that one wasn’t bad in the slightest – and of a naked Robin Hood gallivanting about on his merry way, which completely destroyed the good karma Mel had just gained.

Astrid watched Mel give her a cheerful wave and leave the library with a look of utter disbelief on her face. That girl was just… she was… just…

“Fucking unbelievable,” Astrid said under her breath, leaning back in her chair, both of which were just a smidge too loud for the librarian, who fixed Astrid with a steely glare and shushed her.

Astrid tried to get back to her books, but it felt now that her brain had been sitting on a hot plate for an hour or so. Nothing made sense and thinking was hard. She snapped the topmost book shut with a sigh, before packing up and heading for the exit, after flipping off the librarian when her back was turned.

Today had been fucking dumb.

((Astrid Tate continued in A Salad of Anger))
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The Dynamo of Volition · Beale Library