http://ecirpnellehada.livejournal.com/ (
ecirpnellehada.livejournal.com) wrote in
fandomhighdorms2008-04-11 11:49 am
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Second Floor Common Room; Friday Morning.
There was only one drawback of a visit home for Adah. She was a quiet, solitary soul, and so the apartment was always quiet, but the one thing it wasn't was solitary. Most of the time spent between herself and her mother seemed to exist with each of them going about their business, but with the sharp awareness that the other was at least there. True, now that she was back, she still had Pride to keep her company, but, that morning, as she tried to settle in and read, she felt herself feeling restless over the fact that the only other presence in the room was a tiny ball of fluff.
She didn't even know if anyone would bother to be up and around right now, but at least relocating to the common room would give her a chance to move around a little, and it would give Pride more space to sniff around without her constant fear that he'd take on his mother's habit of chewing on books. There was also a coffee pot in the common room, and coffee, she figured, would be just as nice of a substitute for a presence as a presence itself.
Better, even, because it was tasty. She leaned her back on the counter a little, waiting for the gurgling of the brewing coffee, watching Pride as he sniffed suspiciously at the darkness underneath the couch.
[[ open of course. yaaay coffee ]]
She didn't even know if anyone would bother to be up and around right now, but at least relocating to the common room would give her a chance to move around a little, and it would give Pride more space to sniff around without her constant fear that he'd take on his mother's habit of chewing on books. There was also a coffee pot in the common room, and coffee, she figured, would be just as nice of a substitute for a presence as a presence itself.
Better, even, because it was tasty. She leaned her back on the counter a little, waiting for the gurgling of the brewing coffee, watching Pride as he sniffed suspiciously at the darkness underneath the couch.
[[ open of course. yaaay coffee ]]
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Too bad he wasn't entirely focused yet to take into account anyone else around. He went automatically towards an upper cabinet to grab a mug.
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"Thanks," he managed, his voice deeply husky. First word uttered this morning.
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...okay, so it was pretty damn good coffee, she had to admit. But she had spent the last few days having the scent of Orleanna's cheap-as-dirt, might-actually-be-dirt blends in her nostrils, her hair, her clothes.
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He closed his eyes, rolled his head around and felt the bones in his neck crack as he let out a deep sigh. He drank in silence, the moment comfortable as there was no one else about yet. Johnny could appreciate that. Silence wasn't come by easily around here and tonight there was that big event. He'd be there of course, show his support...
"You been doing all right?" he asked low, glancing over at her after another sip of coffee.
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She lowered her eyes and her mug when he spoke to her, glancing over, which might have seemed embarrassed from her quiet observation, but it was really something else. It was envy of a sort, and any embarrassment came not from looking or appreciating, but for the dull thought that she wished she could be so inconsiderate of things that she couldn't take for granted, but that so many other people did. She nodded an answer to his question, stiffly, but an obvious nod all the same. Yes, of course she'd been alright. Why wouldn't she?
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"Good. Good," he nodded at her nod, shifting his body lightly from one foot to the next, the t-shirt stretching across taut muscles as he brought his mug to his lips again.
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Probably not. Adah, feeling annoyed, sipped her coffee again and idly let her eyes drift away from the Prometheus again, to try to spot out where Pride may have gone now, to make sure he wasn't doing anything like chewing through the television cords. He was sniffing instead at the leg of an endtable, a small spot of brown and white fur; so far he seemed to have not inherited his mother's nibbling tendency, and only bit when pushed.
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...The Gun Thing had also not ended particularly well for Jeff, which was why he was now attempting to make up for it by looking for her in a location that wasn't... full of guns.
Or Mister Deadpool.
Of course, upon entering the second floor - and its common room, he found an unknown girl and a pot of coffee waiting up ahead.
Predictably, he froze. Like a deer in headlights. "I'm not allowed," he blurted, "I like the ceiling." Pause. "Platonically! I'm not some sort of... ceiling... fancier."
It was going to be one of those days.
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Adah had to admit, this was a new sort of speechlessness for her. Her head tilted slightly at the seemingly non-sequitur barrage of comments from that one boy in her maths class, and she blinked before her eyes traveled up from where he stood in the doorway toward the ceiling. A brow arched as she considered what sort of technicalities would go into being a less than platonic lover of ceilings, and the thought of it gave her head quite a spin against the format of gravity, so she blinked and gave her head a sharp shake as if to set it back right-side-up. She drew in a breath, thinking that she probably shouldn't be considering ceiling sex in the first place and her attention went back toward the boy.
She lifted her eyebrows in question, before glancing toward the coffee pot, with a nod, and then another question his way. She was pretty sure even people who were in denial of their fancying ceilings were welcome to coffee.
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Don't tell any stupid lies, just tell her the truth!
"Find my--"
That's it, Jeffrey!
"--Ceiling."
...Oh, Jeffrey.
"It's very nice," he added, helplessly, "And at least a dog didn't fall through it like Karal's."
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A dog falling through Karal's roof was definitely something she would be interested in hearing about. She could just envision it now, him sitting in his room with his prayers and devotions, only to have them answered by a canine from the heavens.
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Jeff's expression was so thoroughly wide-eyed it was quite possible he wasn't actually seeing much at all. He did, however, begin his valiant scrambling: "I mean, it's not the ceiling, it's my girlfriend."
Maybe not the best choice of words.
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She glanced toward the ceiling again, unable to help herself. Of all the inanimate objects to go and get yourself enamored with, really...a ceiling? She wondered how much of that was psychological, a covertly expressed need for cover, for shelter, and then she snorted, because psychoanalysis was mostly bullshit anyway.
Back to the boy again, her head tilted, to the side and slightly forward, imploring him as kindly as an expression could to, please, continue. Did his ceiling girlfriend have a name, for example? Or perhaps a favorite color? How might he avoid the chance that she might fall in love with the floor over him, considering how long she spent staring at the floor with bright, florescent light eyes?
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This fact registered, ever-so-slowly, on Jeff's mind.
It was taking some time to seep in.
"...Not that the ceiling is my girlfriend, I mean, it's a bit flat, isn't it? Er..." His expression had taken on quite comical levels of panic, and he'd be edging back towards the wall had he found the ability to do so. "...Are you a mute? 'Cos, I mean, I'm certain my dog won't fall through this ceiling, she's three floors up, that's a bit of a descent..."
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She blinked a few times, gave her head a very deliberate shake, like an Etch-a-Sketch, disrupting the jerking, criss-crossing paths of magnetized sand so that they fell away, trying to make a clean slate, but she could never shake it hard enough, residual ghost lines of the amature geometry remaining, clinging to the screen.
And then she blinked again at the boy, forehead wrinkling with the clear indication that he'd either better start making sense soon, or she was just going to start running with the babbling, and she didn't think that he'd really terribly want her to do that, else he have quite the interesting picture of himself cemented into her head.
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He was a little bit busy being (and sounding) absolutely terrified, "But she's not very fond of the dog."
He paused, again.
"...She eats things."
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"Good morning." he waved cheerily.
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Wasn't this particular cheerfully waving frog in her maths class? She was certain he was.
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