skymuffins | [Sept. 17] The Library, Morning

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[Sept. 17] The Library, Morning

Saturday mornings were her favourite time to be in the library. Even the more studious of her classmates (but not hers, never hers) tended to have a bit of a lie-in on the first day of the weekend, after an evening spent hanging out and talking and unwinding from the week.

All of that was why she enjoyed the haunting quiet of the library when it was only her, the ghosts of students past, and Master Dominic, who was puttering about with paperwork and never gave her more than the barest of glances when she came in.

Here, there was silence, but it was a comfortable one instead of the achy, hurtful one she usually walked around in.

Even with a few ghosts lingering at other tables, though none were with her as she wandered the stacks of books, trailing her fingers down their spines, seemed more peaceful than they usually did. Sorrow knelt down in the romance section and tried to decide which ones she wanted to read next.

They were all bad, of course, but she liked that about them. They were fluffy.

Soft.

Not much in her life was.

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She hadn't used words, but the message had gotten through clearly enough, and Dover found himself chuckling before reaching out and picking one that looked like it was about to fall apart, for all that it had been read.

"I could recommend this one," he shared. "All the same, but instead of throwing in pirates and so on, it's a bit of historical fiction. Bit of Celtic legend mixed in for good measure."

He was utterly biased, yes.

Oh. Well. That did sound interesting, which meant she had to sidle a little closer to see if she could just the book a little by the cover.

She did give him a bit of a reproachful glance, though, for his comment about pirates. She liked pirates. And just for that, after a quick glance at his book, she easily plucked her favourite one off the shelf (and it was in neater condition than the one he picked but, then, he'd been reading his for longer than she'd been reading hers, if she was right in that he'd picked his favourite).

It had a pirate on the front. In clothing no real pirate had ever worn because it was as impractical as it was lovely to look at. She tapped the pirate's extravagant hat and then tapped her own head.

She wanted a hat like that. Wouldn't that be interesting? Did his book have anything as good as that?

... Romance novels brought out the ridiculousness in her, perhaps.

Dover watched for a moment, and then, other people in the library be damned he couldn't help but laugh a little at the mental image of her in that bloody absurd hat.

"This one's got giants," he shared, "and changelings and banshees and all manner of little people."

And then, with a playful grin, he let his accent slip into something a fair bit thicker than it ever really needed to be.

"Wee fairies and leprechauns."

Sorrow pursed her lips, tapping her book lightly and then offered it to him firmly with a glance at the book he held.

They could trade? If he wanted to?

He could read her pirates and she could read his wee fairies and leprechauns and they would probably confuse Master Dominic slightly when they went to check out but that was all right, Master Dominic never showed that much fuss over what people were reading when it came to harmless things like this.

Pirates were still better anyhow but she was willing to give it a shot. She was doing all sorts of strange things this year. Sitting with someone at supper and not ignoring him, only had to be one of them, right?

"What, we swap out this time around, cuttie?" Dover considered the offer, and then shot her a grin. "Works well enough for me, I think. I've been meaning to mix it up a little, I just keep going back to--"

Wait, no, that was embarrassing to admit.

... Hell with it.

"The same old titles. That one in particular."

HE WAS A ROMANTIC SOUL, SO SUE HIM.

If she was the sort to grin, she'd be grinning right about now. As it was, her eyes got a little brighter.

She shrugged and hugged the pirates book close to her for a moment before offering it back to him again, properly this time. There were books that she felt the same about.

It wasn't that bad, see?

Dover accepted the book with a grin and a nod, turning the Celtic mythos book over in one hand thoughtfully before holding out to her, equally properly.

"I'll take good care of it," he promised. "Won't come back any more tatty'n when I got my paws on it, you'll see."

He wouldn't even risk it getting scorched around the edges during those tutoring sessions he'd started the other week. See, now that was respect for a book, right? Right?

Surely that was basic respect for a book, no?

Sorrow took the Celtic book, held it up, and nodded. She would do the same with this one, though truth be told, she was far less likely to burn it. She shifted the hand holding the book so that it was held between her thumb and pinkie finger with the other three fingers forming a 'roof' over it. With her other hand, she mimed rain coming down and shook her head.

See? She would keep it from rain.

Though possibly not from Raine and she frowned a little, unsure how to express that. Well, it probably wouldn't matter. Raine seemed to go through spurts where she did not see him much for a few days. Perhaps it was a non-issue. She shrugged, a bit helplessly.

Yeah, there was a whole world of things being said there that Dover had no hope of following. But at least he caught the 'safe from rain' bit, and it got him smiling a little as he nodded toward the window.

"Well, with any luck you won't have to worry too much about the weather. My apologies if we get an unseasonal downpour, though. If that one's on me own head, it'll be because the alternative is a forest fire or something, I'm sure."

Tutoring. Oh, tutoring.

Sorrow gave him wide, quizzical eyes at that.

A forest fire? Was there something wrong with his powers? Was he feeling all right? He was old enough that that sort of thing wasn't supposed to be an issue!

Excuse her, but she was just going to have to frown a bit harder and see if she couldn't check his temperature with her hand.

If he was sick, he should go to the infirmary! Or be resting!

And so help him, he was going to get busted down this aisle for laughing aloud yet.

"Nono, not me, luv," he admonished, still smiling as he waved a hand. "I've managed to talk the administration into letting me tutor another pyro this year. One of the elevenths who's been having a few confidence issues with that particular aspect of her stone. Mine is completely under control, no need to worry your pretty head over little ol' me."

... She withdrew her hand, flushing as she looked down sheepishly. Well. Didn't she feel a bit ridiculous? She did. Sorrow threw him an apologetic glance.

It was tempting, really, to just slip away and wallow in her embarrassment but he was smiling and so it couldn't be all that bad, truly.

And besides, she was curious. Which eleventh? She held up two fingers, for the eleven, and then looked at him curiously.

"Allison," Dover replied easily, still smiling a bit. "Timid slip of a thing, all doubts and worries. The fire's giving her a bit of a run for her money, which isn't unusual for an eleventh with pyro of that particular nature."

It wasn't even unusual that she'd be so bent on hiding from it. He hadn't exactly gotten along with his own at first, himself.

Sorrow pursed her lips as she tried to place Allison. There weren't that many students in the school but she didn't pay all that much attention to most of them, really, because most of them were hurtful and it twisted at her to know they weren't alone the way she was.

(Envy, Sorrow supposed, and grief.)

She tapped the book and then brightened. Waffle girl! It had to be her! Sorrow mimed mixing something in a bowl and then acted out the act of using a waffle maker, using the book as one half and her hand as the other and looked at him hopefully.

That made sense, right?

... There were days when it was hard to get things across in utter silence. Sorrow conceded this was probably one of them.

Dover couldn't help but twitch right around the corners of his mouth, half-apologetically, half actually legitimately amused that he had only a vague idea what she was doing to that poor book.

"Never tried her cookin' before," he noted, lightly. "Vegan, here, and it looks to me like there's a good chance that your book there might have eggs and butter in it, hm?"

Bookwaffles. The breakfast of champions. Non-vegan ones.

She gave him an apologetic eyes and a shrug and a nod. Well, yes. There were eggs and butter in waffles though Sorrow supposed you could use egg substitute and something other than butter to make them palatable for him.

Sorrow opened the book and pretended to read a page while making notes with her free hand and then looked at him questioningly. Lessons? How were those, then?

It was fortunate, really, that Dover wasn't utter shite at charades, wasn't it?

"Theory," he shared, shaking his head and looking somewhat bitter about the word. "She wants to learn theory. Theory theory theory, I could cram theory into her skull until there wasn't room for anything else and it wouldn't change a bloody thing. They teach theory in classrooms. She's just worried she'll start a fire."

Truth be told, he couldn't much blame her. He couldn't approve, but he couldn't blame her.

Sorrow bit her lip and looked down. Theory wasn't that bad, was it?

Most of what she learned was theory and she was doing fine.

Though, on the other hand, her power did not involve fire.

But it could be, she understood, more dangerous in some ways.

Dover managed to grasp the gist of that look, and then shrugged, shaking his head a little.

"Theory is well and good," he allowed, "but I'm not a theory tutor. I was brought on to see her through the practical, since she's already learning more theory'n you can shake a stick at in class."

Sorrow spun her hand, like she was mixing something. Perhaps that would go better? It would probably be more comforting in any case.

Power was scary.

Power was scary. And that was why it was so important to reign it in, before it could get the better of you.

"What, teach both? She's into geomancy, too... I'm not, I'm a pyro first, hydro second, healer to tie it all off nice and neat. I did offer we work with something she's more comfortable with, her geo, since the principles of working with the elements are more or less the same across th'board. And I'm offering another signing bonus. She's not a healer, but she's interested in learning first aid..."

Sorrow held up her hands, palms out, as if in surrender. Enough, enough! She shrugged, shaking her head. She was no teacher! No doubt he had it well enough in hand.

That earned a pause, though. Did he like it? Was it interesting? Did he like his student?

But how to ask all of that? Hmmm.

Sorrow tapped her chin with the book as she thought, then shrugged a little regretfully. Any game of charades would be too complicated and she would not ask another way.

Dover gave her a little smile and a nod of understanding.

"We'll suffice it to say that she's a good girl, and she's trying, and she's just a wee slip of a thing yet. I don't expect miracles for at least a little while longer."

And, he hoped, that covered the important parts.

"Classes are going well for you, I hope?"

Sorrow considered that. They were going about the same as always, really, so she held out one hand flat in the air and drew it across then faked a yawn as she covered her mouth with her other hand.

Then she looked sheepishly at him. They were class, right?

Outside of class, she thought, was where things were changing. Sorrow pointed at herself and then at the space beside her and shrugged a little. There was company, of a sort, these days. It was odd.

Dover needed a moment to parse that one, and then decided, to hell with it, he might as well wager a guess.

"Met somebody, did you? That bloke from eleventh grade? He a half-decent sort, then?"

He, personally, wasn't really going out of his way to meet the guy, but that was mostly because he hadn't had the opportunity to. The 'looking into the future' thing was unnerving, but no more unnerving than the way he looked with his shirt off, and he'd done that to himself.

But prepping to tutor meant that his own social time was a little on the sparse side these days.

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