THE WATCHER. ── So I turned myself to face me, but I've never caught a glimpse. How the others must see the faker; I'm much too fast to take that test.
— fashioned way. Old dog and new tricks, you know."
I'd still be writing letters if it wasn't so impractical. Too easily intercepted.
"Regardless, perhaps you'll encourage your fellow students to visit?"
Especially any new ones. It couldn't be long now...
Well, I rather doubt that very much. Certainly, no one I know would spend their time on something so trivial. The idea is laughable — but oh, that hopeful look on her face.
"Well, I erm... thank you, Miss Rosenberg, but I'm afraid I'm quite content communicating the old —
"𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞?"
Having found my Blackberry, I hold it up in the air and waggle it temptingly, like when I was trying to convince my dad to switch from filing cabinets to a digital archive.
"It's totally free to sign up, and I bet a lot of people you know are there!"
"...Yes, do come in, won't you?"
I certainly hope that I left that door unlocked and that she hasn't simply broken it in the process of, erm, breaking in.
"Consider me urgently forwarned of the severity of the issue. But perhaps you could tell me more? Like what it is."
She will usher herself to @LetsHaveAJelly door knocking quickly and frantically before opening the door and walking in.
“Giles? There are issues! Major whole in the day I wanted to have full possible end of the world.”
"No! No, no."
Suddenly, I find myself backing away from the counter with a feeling adjacent to abject terror as Willow suddenly brandishes a [mobile] at me. Isn't there some sort of school-wide restriction on those damn devices?
Flustered, I clear my throat. "Ah, what I mean —
"Face...book?"
Any faith that I had in these children as the future custodians of our world is thoroughly shaken by how gleefully she lobbed that... nonsense word at me.
"I fear I'll regret asking this, but what on earth is a Facebook?"
I don't recall seeing any such —
"I will certainly keep that in mind, Miss Rosenberg."
I'm unable to disguise the slight pinching of my mouth as I imagine addressing a student so... casually.
"I don't suppose that's why your peers seem afraid to come in here?"
« gaze back to his.
"Good morning, Mr. Giles." I chirp back, now, with a small smile. "You know, you can just call me Willow? Teachers here don't usually use your last name unless you're in trouble."
It sure gave me the heebiest of jeebies...
—— ⋆ Dire straits & dirty consequences ; an invitation to your personal ﹙disaster﹚.ᐟ
♱
It's a point break, another ﹙guilty﹚ conscience, and I won't stop you 'til you get just what you're after.
— her, expression bemused.
"All students are welcome here, of course. I was only greeting you, Miss Rosenberg. A rather quaint custom from my homeland, you see."
Given her rather extreme overreaction, I can only surmise that either the previous librarian was in the habit of [beating] the children who use the facilities or a simple 'good morning' means something troubling in the American tongue.
I peer over the frame of my glasses at —
𝐒𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐩𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐮𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 at the sound of my name, my guilty gaze finds his and my lips droop downward as I wrack my brains, trying to guess what I might have done to have suddenly warranted his attention.
"Oh, sorry... do - do you not want me in here?"
— whenever she does appear, much easier. However...
It doesn't bode well for the future, does it? All these children turning up their noses at the idea that there could be anything more useful than their bloody mobile devices...
At least this girl seems to have a good head —
I'm not quite certain if I should be relieved or [dismayed] that there is only one student who seems to frequent the library. The others seemed to have rather lost interest after the first few days of oggling me like a zoo animal.
It will certainly make training the Slayer, —
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐬 the only quiet refuge at this time of morning, so that's where I can be found. Tucked away in the furthest corner of the room with a book propped up on my knees. Peaceful and unbothered, at least until first bell rings.
After a few nights of steady work, Rosedale Manor is almost liveable.
Ah... poor choice of words.
It's been cleaned and fortified against the elements. I've moved my belongs in. And with Rosedale's connections to the sewer lines, I'll be able to get around town during the »
𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐆:
—— 𖤐 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞.
And it's my whole heart deemed and delivered a crime; I'm on trial waiting 'til the beat comes out. 𝐖𝐡𝐨'𝐬 𝐚 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐧𝐨𝐰.ᐣ
[ . . . ] # SOLO ⸻ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 wheels of my board are the only thing keeping me attached to the planet. *Click-Clack, Click-Clack* they rattle over cracks in the sidewalk, and the sound vibrates straight up into my teeth, making my words wobble as they leave my mouth. ⤿