[ if any place is going to have answers, surely, it'll be the library.
that's the logic elena goes with, and it's logic that doesn't seem to play out in the way that she had hoped. lingering at the front end of the library, she walks quietly through the aisles to find a book—any book, just a goddamn book that says YOU ARE HERE—but finds that she's very, very much out of luck.
at least she's out of the cold. dressed in something new—she's wearing a men's flannel button-up—and no looking quite like death warmed over (but still with a lingering of it, dying is kind of a bitch), it's dust that she wears as a new shawl. everything she touches leaves a thick coating of it against her fingertips to the point where she feels itchy with it at the back of her neck and the wound she covers with her hair on the right side of her neck.
spying someone lingering outside of the library, elena throws all caution to the wind—the people she's met so far have been really nice, after all, and kindness can go a long way. she opens the front door and leans outside, not wanting to step foot across the threshold in fear of being cold all over again.
she has a book in her hands (wuthering heights) and so many questions invisibly lining her shoulders. are people aware that this edition is an actual love story? ]
Excuse me… Sorry. But uh— [ she frowns as she gestures with the book towards the gut of the library. ] People do know this library is a mess, right?
[ that hadn't been the question she had wanted to ask. ]
no subject
that's the logic elena goes with, and it's logic that doesn't seem to play out in the way that she had hoped. lingering at the front end of the library, she walks quietly through the aisles to find a book—any book, just a goddamn book that says YOU ARE HERE—but finds that she's very, very much out of luck.
at least she's out of the cold. dressed in something new—she's wearing a men's flannel button-up—and no looking quite like death warmed over (but still with a lingering of it, dying is kind of a bitch), it's dust that she wears as a new shawl. everything she touches leaves a thick coating of it against her fingertips to the point where she feels itchy with it at the back of her neck and the wound she covers with her hair on the right side of her neck.
spying someone lingering outside of the library, elena throws all caution to the wind—the people she's met so far have been really nice, after all, and kindness can go a long way. she opens the front door and leans outside, not wanting to step foot across the threshold in fear of being cold all over again.
she has a book in her hands (wuthering heights) and so many questions invisibly lining her shoulders. are people aware that this edition is an actual love story? ]
Excuse me… Sorry. But uh— [ she frowns as she gestures with the book towards the gut of the library. ] People do know this library is a mess, right?
[ that hadn't been the question she had wanted to ask. ]