Thursday, February 25, 2016

(19) free time

Chrys sat in the middle of her room, surrounded by book upon book upon book, most too old or foreign for her to understand. Because of that, a translating sheet was conveniently yet precariously balanced on her knee as she copied the texts from one ancient tome to another.

There was a knock on her door, and Steve pushed his head in. “Hey, Chrys-- oh Christ what are you doing.”

“Translating.” She responded without looking up.

“At this hour in the morning? It’s what, seven? What time did you wake up?”

Chrys shrugged, not wanting to admit to her older brother that she had never gone to sleep.

“What exactly are you translating?” Steve came into the room further, letting more early morning sunlight filter in. The atmosphere in Chrys’ room was mostly dim, but she did have one desk lamp turned on and sitting on the floor right next to her.

“That,” she pointed to the pile on her desk, “Is from Rome. That’s a hobby. The rest of this shit is from other worlds.”

“What… what is it?”

“The thing I’m working on right now is a story, I think, but it could also just be a really elaborate shopping list.”

“Chrys.” Steve took the key from her, regardless of her protests. “I think you need to take a break.”

“It’s fine, Steven.” She tried to snatch it back, but her brother just grabbed her forehead to hold her back. Chrys made a sound of indignation, but couldn’t break free.

“You never slept.”

Hmm. Well. Looks like the secret’s out.

“It’s cool, I’ll just sleep later. Give that back.” She grabbed for the paper again, randomly waving her hands in an effort to grab anything.

“That’s not healthy, Chrys.”

“Lots of things aren’t healthy.” Fuck, give me back my key!

“No. No, I’m confiscating this until you get some sleep.” He pulled away abruptly, walking to the door with the key in hand.

“Steven, no!”

“Whoops,” He turned, sliding backwards out of the door. “Too late. Oh no, I’m uncontrollable, I’m not responsible for my own actions. Tell-Tell my wife I love her!” Getting more and more theatrical and dramatic the more he spoke, Steve shut the door with a flourish, leaving Chrys sitting in the middle of the room with no way to translate.

“Well, fuck.” She sighed, standing and stretching, and was rewarded with a satisfying ‘pop’ from her spine. She turned off the lamp, then walked to the bookcase to put the books back, placing them just on the line between things she’d translated and things she had yet to figure out.

It was a little late. Well, early. Whatever. It was late for her, but Steve, that self righteous asshole, could never know that.

What she did with her time was her own business.

Chrys collapsed on her bed, burrowing into the covers the best she could and exhaling.

Outside, it started to pour rain. The sound of water on the rooftops lulled her to sleep.



im gonna post another one today in order to actually meet the fucking quota. or. maybe that'll be tomorrow. hang on i'll be back.

maybe i'll come back and edit this later

we all know that's a lie

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