Rom 512: late late at night
Evie was trying to figure out how to write a letter to her brother.
Dear Jonathan,
I am living in an H.G. Wells novel, as scripted by Baudelaire. He might not believe her. But really, the last couple days, if she gave him full details, would prove her right.
For example: the First Aid seminar. Where a lovely conversation with Dean Forrester turned into a discussion on whether she was a Sapphist, capped off by her returning the favor in his direction. No. Or, for another example? Mr. Gavin explaining that aspirin was evil and American boys are diseased. Good God, no. At least speaking with Alanna and her talking cat, Faithful (who, really, sounded just like she'd always imagined cats thought) and another with the large and very quiet Chad hadn't been traumatic. And Peter Pevensie was British, and therefore probably not carrying Siletti's Syndrome. She really had to get to the Library to look that up.
Coffee with Mac on the 4th floor, and meeting Isabel Evans and her incredible, lovely, magical computer could also be counted as more very positive experiences.
But then there was discussing brothels, for heaven's sake, with Dean Winchester, and embarassing herself when meeting Xander Harris. Which was not quite balanced out by meeting Jack's Sam, Janet's Elizabeth, and a boy from Uncharted Space called Stark and talking to Zero Hopeless-Savage (marvelous name) and watching her turn into a kitty. Another Fandom warning proven true. Though Blair had been very comforting about her not actually being interested in girls that way. Sigh.
Today shouldn't have been more traumatic, but aside from a perfectly pleasant conversation with Lyra, who was a very nice girl as well as a witch of some kind, there was finding out from Blair that the environment was endangered, that there used to be another Evie (!!!!) here on the Island from Belthazor, and then, then, being asked out to Ice Cream by Jim. Whose last name she didn't even know! Layla had said she'd loan her clothes, and that was all right, but what were they going to talk about? Lord.
And to cap it off, she'd had to slap Mr. Pete Hutter, who was possibly the rudest boy she'd ever met in her entire life to date. Hmmph.
No, actually, I am living in an absurdist drama by Moliere, staged by Jules Verne.
Sigh.
Dear Jonathan,
I am living in an H.G. Wells novel, as scripted by Baudelaire. He might not believe her. But really, the last couple days, if she gave him full details, would prove her right.
For example: the First Aid seminar. Where a lovely conversation with Dean Forrester turned into a discussion on whether she was a Sapphist, capped off by her returning the favor in his direction. No. Or, for another example? Mr. Gavin explaining that aspirin was evil and American boys are diseased. Good God, no. At least speaking with Alanna and her talking cat, Faithful (who, really, sounded just like she'd always imagined cats thought) and another with the large and very quiet Chad hadn't been traumatic. And Peter Pevensie was British, and therefore probably not carrying Siletti's Syndrome. She really had to get to the Library to look that up.
Coffee with Mac on the 4th floor, and meeting Isabel Evans and her incredible, lovely, magical computer could also be counted as more very positive experiences.
But then there was discussing brothels, for heaven's sake, with Dean Winchester, and embarassing herself when meeting Xander Harris. Which was not quite balanced out by meeting Jack's Sam, Janet's Elizabeth, and a boy from Uncharted Space called Stark and talking to Zero Hopeless-Savage (marvelous name) and watching her turn into a kitty. Another Fandom warning proven true. Though Blair had been very comforting about her not actually being interested in girls that way. Sigh.
Today shouldn't have been more traumatic, but aside from a perfectly pleasant conversation with Lyra, who was a very nice girl as well as a witch of some kind, there was finding out from Blair that the environment was endangered, that there used to be another Evie (!!!!) here on the Island from Belthazor, and then, then, being asked out to Ice Cream by Jim. Whose last name she didn't even know! Layla had said she'd loan her clothes, and that was all right, but what were they going to talk about? Lord.
And to cap it off, she'd had to slap Mr. Pete Hutter, who was possibly the rudest boy she'd ever met in her entire life to date. Hmmph.
No, actually, I am living in an absurdist drama by Moliere, staged by Jules Verne.
Sigh.