Special Collections had always been a peculiar place, and now that it was to be their home for the duration of... whenever... it chose not to change that. Those who had raced into it would find their world briefly a disorienting amount of purple light and flashes of lightning and books falling from an eternal above to a perpetual below
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But right now? Sitting on a log and taking a moment to orient herself to these new surroundings seemed to be the thing to do. And maybe wonder when she'd last blinked. Today was kind of a day for remaining super aware.
Mr. Moxy sniffed at the log by her feet, and Natalie wondered whether he knew how bad things were.
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She would've gotten tense, except she was pretty tense to begin with.
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Mr. Moxy meowed tentatively up at Toby.
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"Anyone here proclaiming they're doing great deserves to get punched in the face."
Mr. Moxy was the best Natalie had left, at this point. It was no surprise she was a little harsh.
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And that had made her feel like she was getting some tiny morsel of revenge on the multiverse for taking everyone from her. "I'm pretty sure there's going to be search parties for a solution later."
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And then she simply said, "Yes."
Because they had to. Because people couldn't be just gone. Not her parents, and not Todd, and not Sam. Who was going to get an earful about managing to be stupid while trying to leave her a voicemail about how he wasn't doing anything stupid.
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Sorry, Natalie. He was far too distracted to even try not to overhear thoughts.
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"Did you just read my narrative," she asked, "or my thoughts?"
Either way, she found it a little rude. In a pretty subdued way.
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