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Piper limped her way back into the library. She was wearing the same shorts and tank top she had been training in, and deep bruises showed on her arms and her legs. The one that was really bothering her, however, was hidden by her shorts.
A spin gone wrong with a rattan Bo staff hurt. It hurt very, very bad.
She moved back to the section on weapons, returning some of the books she had in her arms and looking for more. She found a tactical strategy book that would include the sectional staff.
She took it and cradled it against her chest, along with her almost-filled composition book, and began to limp towards the tables.
Rebecca is already at some of the tables, fully engrossed in the books she has in front of her. Some appear to be additional texts for class, but those have been pushed off to one side. Partially barricading her from the rest of the world were a few books on the Occult, her typical reading material, as well as a few books on various mythologies.
Whatever she's reading now, however, she couldn't say. Rebecca had completely zoned out, staring at the same page for the past five minutes.
Piper couldn't help but smile as she saw Rebecca. She didn't really get out much, not since she had spoken to Jack Gayvns. Training had become her life, and when she wasn't training, she was reading about training.
It was nice to see a friendly face.
Making her way to her table, she wiggled into the seat across from her, having to be careful with her stiff hip. She rubbed it gingerly as she placed the book and notes on the table, trying to make a noise to alert her to her presence.
It wasn't a loud noise, but it was a noise nonetheless.
Rebecca jumps at the sound, pulled back to reality as Piper joins her table. She offers the other girl a sheepish smile and adjusts some of the books so there's more room.
She gives a slight shake of her head. No reason to be sorry. No reason to apologize. She settled down, opening her book and her composition book, smiling slightly through the aches.
"Not much. You seemed lost in thought. Anything interesting?"
She notes how stiffly the other girl is moving and chalks it up to a training session, especially with the other bruises scattered about on her.
"Not really. Just had time to kill and thought I'd pick up some light reading." Distraction reading, but she doesn't say as much. It's good to see a friendly face that isn't tied to the current drama in her life; Rebecca's demeanor has already become more welcoming.
She nods at the book in front of Rebecca, before turning to try and find the chapter she was looking for. "Is it a book you haven't read before?" She asked, curiosity seeming innocent.
Rebecca opens her mouth answer, but there's only silence so she shuts it again and looks down. She couldn't even remember what she'd been reading, but at least there's a title printed on the header of the left page. It's a collection of poems by W.B. Yeats.
"Yeah," her smile turns affectionate. "One of my favorites, actually." Who knew the goth girl would like normal poems. She turns her attention back to Piper.
Piper tried to get a look at the title, but even if she did, she wouldn't be able to recognize it. She gave a shrug and a smile, offering a quiet, "Maybe I'll check it out."
Then, she brought her attention back to the bruises. Lightly rubbing her hip, she said, "Yeah. Rattan moving at pretty extreme speeds hurts. Like a bitch."
"It can be a bit whimsical sometimes," she warns, but doesn't suggest that Piper doesn't. She nods at the explanation.
"Pain's a good teacher like that." Way to sound morbid, Becca. She pauses as she realizes how bad that could sound, trying to make a quick cover up. "But I guess that's part of the point with training."
Piper chuckled at Rebecca's assessment, eyes glittering as she thought about it. At least now she knew how fast she needed to go before she would drop someone, even someone with her pain tolerance.
"I've been training almost nonstop. For a while, now. The bruises will fade pretty easily."
She smiled and shook her head. "But enough about the bruising. It hurts even worse talking about it. What have you been up to? Taking care of the pricks?"
"Fair enough." Rebecca can understand that pain. Chuckling, she shifts into a more comfortable position. "The less power they have, the better off we are, right?" Her smile fades a bit as Piper asks about Mike and Silas. She knows it's not anyone else. If it's not Mathew, then it's those two. She's never asked about anyone else.
"Sort of, yeah." Her smile returns, but more wry this time. "More like the medical staff is taking care of them. I'm just keeping an eye on them until they come around. Or trying not to go crazy with all the machines." She points to the books. "Classes help sometimes."
She nodded, raising her feet and crossing her legs on the chair. She held her ankles together, perching comfortably where she was.
"What led to that fight? They were both making stupid moves. They were fighting blind. Silas was definitely pissed, but Mike? That bigot normally stays calm."
While Piper grows more comfortable, Rebecca sits back in her chair with a frown. Her fingers begin to stroke the folds of her shirt sleeve. She'd forgotten about the other spectators.
"Not sure, but I've never seen them act that way before. Mike was definitely pissed." She rolls her lips together, thinking Silas had been more foolish than pissed, but maybe that was just her? Everyone else always seemed to be able to pin them down better. She'd probably be better off stopping altogether.
"Wait, how is Mike a bigot?" She looks back at Piper, brows knitting in confusion.
She was laughing, thinking about everything. Silas was acting like a man possessed, and despite everything else, it was hilarious for her to watch. Little mister always keeps his cool? Nope.
Then, Rebecca asked, and it seemed to catch her off guard. She startled slightly, surprised that word had passed through her lips.
She swallowed back her insults, her hatred, and gave a shake of her head. "He and I... have a difference in opinion, I guess."
She remembered Mat. She remembered Aaron and their kiss. She remembered all of the things she had learn since she last spoke to Mike, and visibly, she wilted.
"I... He tried to tell me something, and I was lead to believe something else..."
Pain. Her heart clenched almost like a physical force, and she started to wring her fingers together. "I mean, I was never... I, um..."
Well now she felt horrible. She'd never seen Piper like this, and it was a quick change from when she'd just talked about Mike.
"Hey, it's okay." Her tone was quiet and reassuring. " Everyone makes mistakes. A lot of people are lied to or realize they were wrong." Not talking from personal experience or anything.
Piper took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. The strange mixture of panic and anger started bubbling like something crawling under her, and not even the gentle tone of her friend's voice could calm her.
At least she wasn't hyperventilating.
"Mike," she said through clenched teeth, having to close her eyes. "Is he... a liar? A bad guy? Normally?" She took another breath. "You know him better than I do."
Maybe what He told her was a test, not a lie. Maybe He meant something else by His words, entangled into the very core of her being. Maybe she was wrong... that was more believable than Him being wrong, wasn't it?
Nervously, her fingers began to rub one of her scars - a prominent one on her shoulder - beneath the fabric of her shirt.
"Mike?" Back to Mike again? She frowns and shakes her head. "No. He's one of the most honest and straightforward people I know." She brushes her hands on her thighs as though she's rubbing away imaginary dust.
Honest. Straight forward. Her doubts were making her head spin. She couldn't think about it anymore... Somewhere, out there, He was watching her. Wasn't He?
He had to be.
Stupid Angel. Stupid Mike. Stupid everyone else, making her doubt everything she had come to know. As if this life that she built here was anything. Anything but a test.
"Rebecca," she said softly, trying to keep calm. "What are you reading?"
A not so subtle request to change the subject.
She looked like she might be sick.
« Last Edit: Nov 20, 2015 0:21:11 GMT -6 by Sarah White »
Rebecca takes the hint, though she watches Piper another moment, eyes searching the other girl's face for any further signs of what might be wrong or what she might need.
"'An Irish Airman Forsees His Death,'" she says quietly. Then, looking back down on the page, begins to read the poem as a form of distraction, her voice falling into the familiar rhythm the words bring.
"I know that I shall meet my fate Somewhere among the clouds above; Those that I fight I do not hate, Those that I guard I do not love; My county is Kiltartan Cross, My countrymen Kiltartan's poor, No likely end could bring them loss Or leave them happier than before. Nor law, nor duty bade me fight, Nor public men, nor cheering crowds, A lonely impulse of delight Drove to this tumult in the clouds; I balanced all, brought all to mind, The years to come seemed waste of breath, A waste of breath the years behind In balance with this life, this death."
As she read, she would watch Piper physically relax. She focused the entirety of her attention on Rebecca and the poem she was reading, on the words and that soft tone.
It didn't help that the poem was really, really nice.
She sighed softly and leaned back in her seat, having to shift slightly to keep from straining already sore muscles.
"I really like that," she said, softly. "Do you write much poetry, yourself? You have the voice for spoken word poetry."
Rebecca sits back as she finishes the poem, looking around the otherwise quiet library. It had started to feel like a normal day for a few minutes.
"I used to," she admits after a moment, gaze going to her right at the memory. "Horrible stuff, really. All that pre-teen stuff you cringe at later." Because what's better than teenage angst but preteen poetry? Kanon would be so proud of the cliche.