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 Posted: Fri Feb 03, 2012 7:49 pm
 w - where . . ? ;; Chittentown library, again. w - when . . ? Around 8:30 pm. w - why . . ? As Vremea organizes the books inside the library, a certain curious knife juggler happens to pass by. [to be edited afterwards]
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Posted: Sat Feb 04, 2012 5:36 am
The books in the library in Chittentown were steadily getting more and more boring.
Vremea couldn't stand the fact that she had read all the good books, and was now on to the boring, information packed books. Thinking about what else she could do in the rather dull library, she looked around. Well, she supposed she could start putting all the leftover books that the clients leave in their respective places so she didn't need to do it later. Or she could sketch an outfit. She picked the former— work needs to be done first, to keep this library organized. She got up, taking the book cart that was next to her desk and started rolling it around, picking up books and placing them in there after she grabbed them. She wasn't one for dropping— it damaged the books. She asked a few people if they were or were not reading the books that surrounded them, and many answered with a no, afterwards talking idly with her. Some said yes, and she let them be with an 'excuse me'.
Seeing that she had gotten all of the books that had currently been there, she started sorting the books into piles— which was in which side of the library. One book was here, another here... And the list went on and on...Why were there so many books?? Damnit, there went another night wasted.
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Posted: Sat Feb 04, 2012 3:45 pm
Fffffffffffssssssssss
Belife did not read often. The books he did read were giant fonts or braille. And today, his favourite braille book had just been ruined. Orange soda had found its way into the pages while he slept, and when he awoke, many of the pages ripped under the water weight. He could have cursed, but he was too tired to. He would deal with it when he woke up, and fell back asleep again. The sun was still up, after all.
Several hours later, after he found the culprit was his horn knocking over his soda, he dried off the braille book, put it under his arm, and left for the city. He did not live insufferably far, about a half hours walk. He left his lusus at home; he didn't want to wake him. Chittentown was so traveled by him that he no longer needed Vanille's eyes.
Today was a day for reading. He had cut his hand 24 hours before practicing a new routine and wanted to wait until it healed to practice again. Luckily, he was a fast healer. He headed to the library, one of the bigger non-military based buildings in the city and opened the door, leaving an orange stain on the glass door. He made his way to the front desk and threw down his book as loud as he could to get the attention of whoever worked there.
"Ey, anyone there t'help a poor soul out?"
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Posted: Tue Feb 07, 2012 1:28 pm
Sliding a book into it's place a few minutes afterwards, Vremea heard a small jingle of bells— a signal that someone had just come in to the library. She hated it, it always got on her nerves, distracting her from what she was working on or doing— like reading a book or, now, interrupting her when she actually was working. She heard a loud, startling slam that made her wince slightly. This was a damned library! What was their problem? "Ey, anyone there t'help a poor soul out?" Vremea heard soon after, and she growled inwardly. Marching straight over to where she heard this, she glared at the kids back. Walking in front of him(behind her desk), she inhaled, preparing to rant. "Yes, of course I can! Firstly, talk properly— do not abbreviate with those silly syllables! Secondly, do not make noise in a library. Thirdly, do not yell in a library! All you have to do is ding that damned bell right there!" She pointed at the bell with her index finger, her eyes narrowed somewhat as she stared and analyzed the kid.
His black hair was extremely wild, flying all over his face and covering his eyes. His horns pointed up somewhat, and... He had a scar across his face? Hm. Wonder where it's from... Her gaze trailed to his baggy jumper with orange patches on it's elbows, his orange, upside-down question mark lookalike sign placed smack dab in the middle of his jumper. Black pants occupied his legs and very loose socks hung on his ankles, orange shoes with green straps on his feet. "Also, tidy yourself up." she said, moving her finger to point at his untucked shirt and collar pointing up, frowning slightly. No one should run around with a shirt untucked and collar up!
What was with this guy? How in the name of Gog did he see with that type of hair, splayed all over his head? Vremea would never be able to see with hair all over her face. She should probably tell him to cut his hair too, just in case, but dismissed the thought whole-heartedly. She couldn't bring herself to get back into that mood— it was already foul enough as it is, what, with how she had to do all that crap about putting the books away. She'd stacked up to more than 40 books! Sometimes she hoped she could just live selling milk.
"Now, what is it?"
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Posted: Sun Jul 29, 2012 1:32 pm
Belife puffed out his cheeks and crossed his arms. "YE shouldn't yell at yer' customers. And I'm talking, too, prop'ly! Ye're just silly. Meh clothes 'er fine. If'n ah wore any'fin fancy it'd all get cut up. No need t'wear fancy clothes ifn' they're jest gonna get cut up!" Despite being told and criticized for his looks, he unlatched his arms and smiled at her. She had long hair and yellow blobs on her horns. He wondered what they were. Was she wearing a triangle? It was strange. He would have asked about it, but decided his orange-stained book was more important, now that her mood ha changed.
"See this book 'ere? Ah get cust'em braille books made fer meh and in meh sleep ah seemed t'have ruin'd it. Ah was wonderin' iffn you could help a 'pour blind 'men out?" He lifted the huge book up and smiled at her, without telling her the book was erotic fantasy. It's not like she could read it herself. Didn't need to. Well, he supposed she needed the title. He's play it out, maybe make a pervy joke or riddle. As he waited for her answer, a few funny scenarios raced through his head. He wondered which one he'd pick?
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Posted: Fri Sep 21, 2012 8:59 pm
Vremea huffed at him, cheeks slightly puffed out. "I was not screaming..." she mumbled, cheeks yellow in frustration— "And you are not talking properly, either!" She was in such a bad mood already, why couldn't he just leave? "And what do you mean cut up?" she asked, frowning.
His clothes were so messy, she just... Vremea felt compelled to help this poor troll to see the beauty that is tidiness. She marched up to him and pursed her lips, a small scowl pulling on the edges of her mouth as she tucked his shirt in for him, straightened his sweater, and fixed his collar. "At least fix your clothes sometimes. It's so... Unsettling..." she frowned. Well. She just started insulting some random troll that came through the door! What was wrong with her? What if he didn't want to borrow books anymore??? She mentally facepalmed. She was harming the 'business.'
She listened to him with a curious look in his books direction. Braille? Wasn't that what the blind used to... read...
Oh.
Realization finally hit her, making her eyes widen slightly. "You're... blind." Vremea confirmed, only saying it to clarify. It wasn't very often she met a blind troll, and when she did, it wasn't one who actually bothered to read— after all, they were blind.
She felt horrible.
He must've been completely out of it. As in, he didn't have a clue what he was wearing. How could he see right in front of him? How could he put on his clothes correctly without them being backwards?? How could he survive...
Oh. That's why he said they were going to get cut up. Did he just flail around with his weapon? He was... Oh.
It must've been hell... Going though all that. Especially since he was a lowblood. He must've gone through a lot of tough times...
All of a sudden, a wave of remorse hit Vremea. "Oh gog, I'm sorry for speaking to you like that." her voice held a shred of guilt as she spoke that sentence, taking the large book solemnly and looking at the cover blankly. "Would it be possible if you could tell me the name of this book, uhm," she paused. "What was your name again?"
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