#a.roche

Hey, got a pen? I wanna find the ugliest thing in here and make myself a name tag with the artist’s name, then stand by it so people are awkwardly forced to come up with compliments...

[....can’t accept someone of your status in a position like that... If it weren’t with the children, it might be different, but you must understand...]

[So much for Schoolmarm Ferris. Sitting here, now, mulling about it over a cup of watery coffee substitute at an empty table in the dining hall, yeah. She does understand. She’s broken, crazy, erratic---definitely not someone to be let near young impressionable minds. What if she were to snap and mistake them all for aliens or something?]

[The worst part is, she knows she could, that their fears are totally reasonable in her case. Wasn’t it just a few nights ago that she was curled up on a bathroom floor with Bobbie having to re-explain the end of the world to her? Not classroom behavior. Barely even sane behavior, by any standard.]

[It just sucks ass, is all. She’s back to square one, or negative one if she thinks about the payment she already made to Pax with nothing to compensate her wild ten-credit spending spree---unqualified and useless, and unable to afford more books unless she comes up with something quick.]

A life without books, that’s terrible. [She goes up a register to reply to herself.] No, being on the street, that’s terrible. [No one’s obviously listening, that she notices, and she’s crazy anyway, right? She continues, reciting from the film with both voices.] No! Books are like oxygen. Reading’s a many splendored thing. Books lift us up where we belong---all you need are books. [Higher.] Please, don’t start that again--- All you need are books... [And then, just humming, ‘cause she’s already pushed the game as far as she’s willing to, and actually singing is just one step too far, even for her.]

---a little context: (x)

[A tap of percussion.]

[A whisper, in the song. The beat picks up. Then, the real work begins.

They stand in a line, having cleared an obvious semi-circle that leaves the firelight as their backing. Andee takes center-stage, stoic in her long coat and stubble. Bobbie on stage right, Elly left to pick up the other side. But the lyrics are here in a moment.

They have to work, bitch.

The number, history, won’t be the same if they drop anything here.

Every step, every thrust of hips, needs to be assured. It’s not like they had that much time to rehearse, this being an idea hatched about half an hour ago. It relies on a mutual understanding of what would be the trashiest of moves they could possibly make. With the added note; what will make the “Chancellor” shine, while telling everyone to ‘work, bitch.’

And it’s a great---no, an ecstatic---four minutes of dancing. The crowd has gone into hysterics, while the three dancers maintain their poise, and all Elly is thinking is---this isn’t real, for me. No one knows who I am, she thinks, tossing her hair. I could be taken back two minutes after we finish, and never face consequences here. It’s beyond me. Who thinks about Aurelia Ferris, rebellious Star Trek nerd?

Then, the song ends, the three of them pose together seriously before they break. Snickers and adrenaline-boosted laughter provide a rush, for a few minutes. Then, the others bid her adieu---Andee distracted by onlookers and Bobbie off to find more entertainment---and Elly wanders by herself over to the refreshments, wondering if, at this point, any of them haven’t been doctored.

When someone approaches, though, instinct takes over. She’s just been in a virtual spotlight, and now---yeah, under the table seems best. Trying to keep silent, she wills with all her might to either be transported to the past, or else go unnoticed.]

[He’s not in the greatest place, despite the waves of good stuff coming off the crowd by the bonfire. Chalk it up to nerves, and also how, like. Everyone’s here. Including people he’s been avoiding. But there’s nowhere to hide, and obviously, he’ll be talking to certain people, he can’t avoid it any more. He feels a bit like a cat in a tree, unwilling to face the ground even if it means being stuck in this awkward place forever.]

[The costumes, though, have him constantly working to guess who everyone is, and that’s a good distraction.]

[It takes him a full minute. Pax is easy to spot, in drag, his limbs tangling in a dance that Mouse can’t even begin to comprehend. Andee’s beside him, in a long coat. She’s got stubble on her chin, is waving a teacup, and he has no friggin’ idea what they’re doing, what they’re supposed to be. Until he sees the front of her coat, the logo, and it all slides into place.]

Holy shit. [Awkward evaporates, he can’t stop the sheer amount of pure glee he gets at seeing her like this.]

Jesus Christ, it’s the fuckin’ Chancellor.

[These days involve a lot of running.]

[Despite being busy during the day and sometimes exhausted, Mouse often wakes earlier than he has to, and when he does he can’t fall back asleep. He lays on his bed and watches the light brighten outside the window, and he hates stewing in his own thoughts like that. Seeing as there are curfews in place at night, and that always depresses him, he takes the mornings as his own and hits the track--- or, in this case, just hits anywhere. After all, who’s going to stop him? No one’s around. The guards all look like they could use a nap, and he nods as he goes past a few that he recognizes, his feet pounding the grey ground in steady beats.]

[The Hub is only just shuddering to life, those few merchants who like to get an early start still bleary-eyed and going about their own business, just as he is, and it’ll be an hour until wake-up calls and breakfast at least. He pushes his restless body through the quiet morning air laboriously and tries not to think about what he’ll do instead of this to clear his mind when the cold hits--- have a good morning snowball fight with himself?]

[Andee’s wailing on a punching bag, so he goes to hold it, instinctively. A second after he grabs the bag, however, he kinda regrets this choice. He grits out a grin, and hopes that she’s not in the mood to suddenly take on a sparring partner, or, y’know, just miss on purpose.] ‘Eyyyyy... Guess who’s just got let out for good behavior?

I remember talking the same Getting over every day Watching everyone else drink 'Cause I can't stand the taste The sky was getting darker each day The hours backed for miles each way And I felt that it was high time to learn to swim

She said go Wherever you like You got time You got time To pick the places that you'll fall To pick the people that you want

*

'Cause you got time Yeah, you got time Before we burn