Another pesky open post!
Faraday sits in the library, hands folded on her lap, staring at the book as though it's a viper. It doesn't look like it's going to bite her. Her feet are tucked up under herself and she keeps staring at the book, twitching at small noises. Her name's in it. Faraday does not like that. At all.
Especially because she was flipping through it and there are things in there. That she doesn't want to think about. She's supposed to be safely dead now, free. Why are people always breaking their promises to her? It's almost enough to make her angry. Except for the tug of fear that every glance at the book gives her.
She sips her glass of water, hands wobbling a bit.
Especially because she was flipping through it and there are things in there. That she doesn't want to think about. She's supposed to be safely dead now, free. Why are people always breaking their promises to her? It's almost enough to make her angry. Except for the tug of fear that every glance at the book gives her.
She sips her glass of water, hands wobbling a bit.