--[closed! | incomplete] well hay there roomie! --backdated--
Characters: Anathema Device ( thebooksaysso ) & Cassandra ( cassie_of_troy )
Setting/Location: Their caravan room
Date & Time: Er. Backdated to Day 9, early afternoonish?
Warnings: None!
Summary: So a former prophet meets the prophecy obsessed.
As lovely as the ball turned out to be, the cheerful rush Anathema had gotten from dancing had--rather predictably--disappeared just as quickly as it had come. And in the relative privacy of her room she was a bit of a pensive and irritable little thing, pacing about and checking into the network almost constantly.
What she needed was another distraction. The caravan had been on the road for....how many days now? Nine? Ten? More? It felt like she'd been there for weeks now, it was getting harder to tell. They should have been home by now. She should be home, helping Adam and his friends with their little neighborhood campaigns, letting Newton help her with the new book....
She'd taken a few notes from the book before she had ended up here. Copied down a couple prophecies, tried to translate them out of Agnes' riddled gibberish and into something that sounded a little more like modern English. She studied them everyday, though as far as she could make out they had nothing to say about being kidnapped to strange new worlds, or being dragged about said strange new worlds by some crazy old man and his pet giant.
But of course they wouldn't say anything about that. It'd make things too easy, and that was the one thing Agnes never was.
Which was why it wasn't long before the notebook hit the floor with a dull thunk for the nth time that week, and the young girl flopped back on her bunk to glare at the ceiling.
"I hope you're having a right laugh up there, you cold-blooded bint."
Setting/Location: Their caravan room
Date & Time: Er. Backdated to Day 9, early afternoonish?
Warnings: None!
Summary: So a former prophet meets the prophecy obsessed.
As lovely as the ball turned out to be, the cheerful rush Anathema had gotten from dancing had--rather predictably--disappeared just as quickly as it had come. And in the relative privacy of her room she was a bit of a pensive and irritable little thing, pacing about and checking into the network almost constantly.
What she needed was another distraction. The caravan had been on the road for....how many days now? Nine? Ten? More? It felt like she'd been there for weeks now, it was getting harder to tell. They should have been home by now. She should be home, helping Adam and his friends with their little neighborhood campaigns, letting Newton help her with the new book....
She'd taken a few notes from the book before she had ended up here. Copied down a couple prophecies, tried to translate them out of Agnes' riddled gibberish and into something that sounded a little more like modern English. She studied them everyday, though as far as she could make out they had nothing to say about being kidnapped to strange new worlds, or being dragged about said strange new worlds by some crazy old man and his pet giant.
But of course they wouldn't say anything about that. It'd make things too easy, and that was the one thing Agnes never was.
Which was why it wasn't long before the notebook hit the floor with a dull thunk for the nth time that week, and the young girl flopped back on her bunk to glare at the ceiling.
"I hope you're having a right laugh up there, you cold-blooded bint."