"What else are you going to do with Siamese twins? You can't separate them without killing them or performing a lobotomy--" she shuddered at that, "So they might as well share a spouse."
"That's right, and you never saw anyone as lovely as my sisters. They were musicians, and they could keep a crowd spellbound for hours." Like everyone but Miranda, they were, of course, dead.
Talking dogs were not something Olympia saw every day. She looked around as if in search of the mechanics by which this one worked, and, finding nothing, she reached out a hand so that she could pet Wishbone if he allowed it, her eyes alight with curiosity. "And what would you read to me?" she asked. She was dying to ask other questions, like wehat it had taken in order to breed a talking dog, but she did have manners and could wait.
A good story! I've got a copy of Aesop's Fables, and The Tempest, and a copy of Les Miserables, and I've got the short story The Robber Bridegroom too! And I'm sure I could find other books, too.
"Ahh, the Tempest. I love that play." She struck a pose and intoned:
"Full fathom five thy father lies; Of his bones are coral made; Those are pearls that were his eyes: Nothing of him that doth fade But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange. Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell: Ding-dong. Hark! now I hear them, ding-dong, bell."
Why was she so pale? Why was she in a bathing suit? Why was she carrying a gun? After all his time in Hogwarts, this was probably the most unusual figure Nate had ever seen. It was enough to make him approach her, even with the gun.
He soon quit staring and asked, "You worked at a carnival?" That wasn't an activity from most Upper East-Siders. Coney Island was in Brooklyn. This is probably why Nate did not comment on the gun.
Nate nodded with apparent understanding. "Yeah. Parents tend to... drag you along." He offered a quick smile, glanced at her shoulders, and back at her. "What does a, um, barker do?"
Olympia managed to restrain the urge to giggle. "No," she said. "A barker is the one who tries to talk people into spending their money at whatever shows are going on. You know..." She struck a pose. "You, sir!" she intoned. "Step right up! Come see the infamous Electra and Iphiginia Binewski, the amazing Siamese twins! Not only are they the best-looking pair of Siamese twins east of the Mississippi, but they're talented, too! Their piano compositions for four hands have completely revolutionized the twelve-tone scale! Only ten dollars, sir, and you can get a front-row seat on the act." She left the pose and spoke in a more normal voice. "Like that. Make sense?"
"I am Albus Dumbledore. I do try to be as colorful as possible."
He certainly did. He was wearing purple robes, their batlike hanging sleeves lined with royal blue. At some point Dumbledore must have decided that jewel tones complemented white hair; or perhaps he had simply never changed his style over the years. As a younger man, with his deep auburn hair, jewel tones would have been the most suitable as well.
"Is anyone truly ever a 'norm'? I think everyone has something unique about him or herself."
"I think you may be right," she said slowly, "But the thing is that most people suppress their uniqueness. They'd much rather not stand out in a crowd, and they get embarrassed when they do. And even when people try to be deliberately nonconformist, they usually do so in the most conventional way possible."
"Perhaps I had better take that," Dawnstar said, gesturing to the gun. "Do you often take weapons with you when you swim?"
((I don't know if you've encountered Dawnstar yet, but she's an American Indian chick with full angel-style wings, who wears a very revealing buckskin leotard and boots.))
"The danger wasn't to myself. And I put it off as long as I could, but it had to be done." Truth to tell, she wasn't yet ready to deal with what she'd done, and she suspected that when she got out of here and had a chance to be alone, she'd allow herself a proper nervous breakdown. "Anyway, you're welcome to the gun," she said with obvious distaste. "I can't stand the damn things."
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Ryuk peered down at her. "And why would being like Elly and Iphy mean that Harry would have to marry both?"
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"Full fathom five thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that doth fade
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:
Ding-dong.
Hark! now I hear them, ding-dong, bell."
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He soon quit staring and asked, "You worked at a carnival?" That wasn't an activity from most Upper East-Siders. Coney Island was in Brooklyn. This is probably why Nate did not comment on the gun.
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"I used to work at a carnival," she corrected. "More than twenty years ago. My parents owned it, so working with it sort of came with the territory."
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Was that like a Dog Girl? Did people like that?
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He certainly did. He was wearing purple robes, their batlike hanging sleeves lined with royal blue. At some point Dumbledore must have decided that jewel tones complemented white hair; or perhaps he had simply never changed his style over the years. As a younger man, with his deep auburn hair, jewel tones would have been the most suitable as well.
"Is anyone truly ever a 'norm'? I think everyone has something unique about him or herself."
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"I think you may be right," she said slowly, "But the thing is that most people suppress their uniqueness. They'd much rather not stand out in a crowd, and they get embarrassed when they do. And even when people try to be deliberately nonconformist, they usually do so in the most conventional way possible."
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((I don't know if you've encountered Dawnstar yet, but she's an American Indian chick with full angel-style wings, who wears a very revealing buckskin leotard and boots.))
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"No," she said dryly. "Normally, I don't. Do you?"
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