[Open post] Further down the literary rabbit hole

[drownedfuchsia]

Fuchsia's been dealing with everything, the way she always does: completely ignoring reality.  She's managed to find herself a collection of terrible romances, and will part with them like her father did his own library, with depression and possible madness.

While she's managed to avoid anything about shades of grey (though she did make her way

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[eight_livesleft]

Here is an older woman who might look very odd to Fuchsia, because she has barely any hair on her head, and isn't wearing the headscarf, for once.

Carol can kick any walker's ass on any given day, but she's still, well, Carol, and meak, and gentle.

She used to be into books, though, before the apocalypse, and she might blink a little bit at the book this young woman is reading.

She's not sure how to get involved, though, so she finally settles on dropping something in Fuchsia's vicinity, and making noise.

“Oh, I'm sorry.”

[drownedfuchsia]

Fuchsia could use an older, kinder woman. Perhaps one that might even be considered maternal. Considering her own mother --

Being good at ignoring others,Fuchsia says nothing until the apology.

"What for?"

[eight_livesleft]

Motherly certainly fits the bill - she did keep hope up until she really had no choice, didn't she?

“Disturbing your reading,” Carol replies softly.

And having succeed in interrupting said problematic reading, she adds, “I don't think we've met. I'm Carol.”

[drownedfuchsia]

"That's all right. You didn't mean it." Apparently, she's caught Fuchsia in a good humour. If she'd been feeling more sour, snippiness might've occurred.

"Fuchsia Groan," and, of course, an introduction can't be done without, "Have you met my brother? His name is Titus."

[eight_livesleft]

Oh wow. This one's got a screw loose. Or two.

“I don't think I have,” Carol replies kindly. “But I haven't been here very long. It's nice to meet you.”

In fact, we haven't seen Titus in *ages*.

[drownedfuchsia]

Or four. Perhaps seven. It depends on the day and who's holding the tools.

"I've been here for years." Time, it's fluid and not always as linear, right?

"But you should meet him. He's brilliant."

[eight_livesleft]

Oh, that’s so endearing, that Carol finds herself smiling a bit more warmly. “Whyever not?” she asks gently. “Though you'll have to make introductions, of course.”

[drownedfuchsia]

"I can do that. I think everyone should know Titus." In spite of everything, Titus is still the one person in the world she loves absolutely unconditionally.

"He may tell you I'm exaggerating, but I'm not."

[eight_livesleft]

Carol does wonder what makes the little brother special, but then again, Fuchsia is special too, and so... it kind of makes sense. Oddly.

“Well, when would you like to make introductions?”

[drownedfuchsia]

"If I knew where he was. He does this: runs off, and comes back. He only does it to upset me, you know."

Fuchsia is a little special.

"Do you have family here?"

[eight_livesleft]

Carol’s heart twitches, and it’s visible the question stirs up old pains in the way her mouth twists, if only barely.

“A friend from home, but no living kin, no,” she replies. “But I have none left at home either.”

[drownedfuchsia]

"No blood?" To Fuchsia, that's tragic, though the only ones she ever cared for were her father and Titus: the former not being particularly reciprocal with his feelings.

"But you can stay here then. Lots of people here, even some dragons."

"And books, so many, many books."

[eight_livesleft]

Carol is torn between believing the girl, or thinking that she is entirely loony. Really, a dragon? Then again, they all think there was an earthquake in this place.

Then again, they all think there's magic, too.

“And lots of books with dragons?” she asks, on the tone of gentle banter.

[drownedfuchsia]

For once, this isn't a part of Fuchsia's imagination. There are at least two dragons, from her count.

"Oh yes, I like books with dragons in them too, but usually the dragons try to destroy things, and all the dragons I've met here are kind." Particularly the one in the attic. He was lovely.

[eight_livesleft]

“You've met dragons?” Carol is staring a little in disbelief. A beat. In case. “... here?”

Why not? She's yet to meet elves and other wondrous creatures, but she's from a world where zombies are the majority and humans, healthy, mentally or otherwise, are glass unicorns.

[drownedfuchsia]

"Yes," Fuchsia agrees with both authority and excitement, "Falcor lives in the attic. He scared me when I first met him, but he's nothing but lovely."

She thinks of the best way to describe him. "He looks like dog, in a way, stretched out as long as possible, and 1000 times as large."