#yseult1

“Stupid.” Fable smacked her open palm atop the library laptop. “Piece of.” Smack smack. “Fossilized.” Smack. “Fucking SHIT. Aaaaagh!”  And still, honestly, not a lot of people looked up from their screens. Even if they had she would have continued on, because— “I spent all day on that. It can’t be gone.” But gone it was, to the blue screen of death. Fine. Fuck it. She didn’t need it. Sure, it would benefit her life in innumerable ways, but what had she been thinking? It wasn’t for her. Couldn’t be. Didn’t have the qualifications, didn’t have the connections. Probably didn’t have the disposition either. Definitely didn’t have the penmanship. No ID, no reliable transportation, ad infinitum. 

Yeah, she’d woken up that morning and thought ‘hey maybe my life can be something different today’, and because she’d thought that before and historically it’d been true she went along with it all the way to the library computers and to the job postings and to the respectable jobs for people with class section. But now she saw the light. It was blinding, and blue. It illuminated her path right back to the brothels for the winter. Again. Cause she sure as fuck wasn’t going to fill that application out twice,

.

“I’ve never seen this one. I just wanted to... watch it.” Elba sighed, eyes narrowing. They could’ve burned real holes into the staticky television if it didn’t straighten up quickly. But, if she did that, Tom Hanks would disappear from the screen for good. “Let’s go mess with the satellite.” By us, Elba didn’t mean herself, but she would make for great company on the rooftop.

Instantly Priscilla liked Yseult the most. Not for anything she knew about her, not for her appearance (which was in serious need of Priscilla’s assistance if you asked her), not for her intellect (which frankly Priscilla couldn't care less about), not even for her kindness which was immediately obvious and admirable. Priscilla liked Yseult the most because she thought she would be the easiest to influence.

Control had slipped through her fingers these last months and out came the claws now to sink into anything that might bring it back to her. “Ohmygod no, don’t drink that one,” Priscilla waved a palm over the can’s opening. “Let me get you a cold one from the fridge, that’s probably been out since, like, noon.” That was an incredible exaggeration, and it didn’t matter. She wore a smile that would have blinded the Eve doll.