Rosalind was, perhaps, one of the few people on the island that actually enjoyed going through reports and organizing them into some semblance of coherency. Let it not be said that her fellow Turks were pinnacles of penmanship, sentence structure, and had mastered ability to chronologically tell a tale with a minimum of side-tracking ( Read more... )

Rosalind could feel a yawn coming on and, in an attempt to curtail it, sipped her ice-cold water and leaned back in her chair. She should probably get up and stretch a bit-moving a little would make it easier for her to stay awake and Tseng wanted these reports by tomorrow which meant that sleep was, unfortunately, going to have to be put on hold ( Read more... )

There were advantages to her current schedule.

Rosalind knew that.

Having only two days with a class each-and one hour a day did not count as a busy day-left her with plenty of time to study the island, to train. It was relentlessly dull after a lifetime filled with work and more work.

She was not good at downtime ( Read more... )

It was, clearly, a brilliant idea to go out running in the Preserve a bare week and a day after opening her eyes for the first time in two and a half months.

Brilliant. Absolutely, positively, scintillatingly brilliant ( Read more... )

Rosalind had reluctantly confined her exploration of her surroundings to the dorms for the last few days and, after her classes were over (and the less said about the one, the better; why was she in Romance 101?) wandered back with only minimal contemplation of exploring elsewhere ( Read more... )