Post by Penngate. on Apr 13, 2009 19:24:31 GMT -5
It was either stay home and indoors and succumb to the madness and insanity known as her family, or it was leave the house even though there was absolutely no reason other than the afore mentioned plague of madness for her to do so. Her brother was throwing yet another one of his typical spoiled-brat temper tantrums in the kitchen - right below her bedroom - and his ear-grating shrieks were beginning to grate on her nerves. An accomplishment, none the less. Perhaps the reason the petulant wails were nerve grating for the simple fact that her fourteen-year-old brother thought he was deserving of laptop, and was going to whine and sulk until the remaining pieces of the Berlin Wall came crashing down - again.
Choosing the more sane choice, Seria had high-tailed it out of her place as though the hounds of hell were at her very heels.
In a huff she had left, grabbing her knee-length black overcoat with its silver and gold sailor buttons and silver material-lined flaps and slinging it over her shoulder as she hefted her book bag out the door with her. Of course, the black and white sack was filled with novels that needed to be read, even if some of them had been gone through so many times, painstakingly gobbling up each word and trying to find a new meaning in the words to analyze. But the majority of the books in there - with the exception of The Pickwick Papers and The Scarlett Letter - were brand new: gifts from her family that she hadn't gotten around to reading, and ones she had bought from work.
The next two hours had been spent wandering aimlessly around Domino City, window shopping and watching people as they milled aimlessly around the city, much like herself. It seemed to be the 'in thing' to be doing these days. As society went on a steady decline, people became less and less interested in doing things with a purpose. For once, Seria found herself joining ranks with these pitiful urban zombie-like nomads, and she was ashamed to admit that she was enjoying the process. Even if there was only a little enjoyment to be derived from it all. She had seen a few people she knew as well, people whom she attended classes with or saw in the lunch room, but she made it a point to either ignore them or avoid eye contact and walk in the other directon altogether. She didn't want to be bothered by people she didn't know very well, and she didn't want to take part in any sort of half-arsed, awkward and painfully forced excuse of a conversation, if you could even call it that.
So, in trying to find something to do in a city that offered so little for one of her demeanor - there were limited amounts of libraries and the bookstores only got new stock in every so often, and they would not until the end of the week - Seria had managed to ghost herself all the way from one end of the city and over into the Park.
Normally, she did not bother with visiting the place - seeing people dueling in their respective corners of the area with the obnoxious crowds filled with cat-calling teenagers who thought they knew it all bored her dreadfully, and gave her absolutely no pleasure.
But, the park seemed fairly vacated, with only a few people milling about the grounds, laughing and talking with one another. Seria herself had taken over a bench, removing her jacket from the warm sunlight and draping it over the back, her book bag placed beside her as she rooted through it in search of something to read. Adjusting the ruffles at the collar of her home-made blouse, and pulling her lace gloves up over her hands, Seria plucked a bound package of leaflets from the plethora of literary wonders in her bag and cracked it open. A brand new Dean Koontz novel, ordered in just for her all the way from the United States of America. In English, too, so she could brush up on her third and final tongue.
Cracking it open gently, just enough so that she could see the words without actually putting a ripple in the spine - something that her hatred for was notorious - she sighed contentedly as she started in on it. Birds in the background, a beautiful sun shining overhead as though everything in the world was normal, people far away enough from her without being close enough to make her anxious, and an amazing novel. What more could she ask for? Absolutely nothing, in her mind. Hesitating for a moment, Seria set her novel down on her splayed out jacket, hauled her black legging-clad legs up and folded them Indian style, and then pulled her hair back into a loose ponytail. Off-blonde hair framed her pale face in awkwardly cut chunks, and the buckle was already in the process of falling out at a moment's notice, but she had already become oblivious to it as she buried her nose back into her new novel.
Choosing the more sane choice, Seria had high-tailed it out of her place as though the hounds of hell were at her very heels.
In a huff she had left, grabbing her knee-length black overcoat with its silver and gold sailor buttons and silver material-lined flaps and slinging it over her shoulder as she hefted her book bag out the door with her. Of course, the black and white sack was filled with novels that needed to be read, even if some of them had been gone through so many times, painstakingly gobbling up each word and trying to find a new meaning in the words to analyze. But the majority of the books in there - with the exception of The Pickwick Papers and The Scarlett Letter - were brand new: gifts from her family that she hadn't gotten around to reading, and ones she had bought from work.
The next two hours had been spent wandering aimlessly around Domino City, window shopping and watching people as they milled aimlessly around the city, much like herself. It seemed to be the 'in thing' to be doing these days. As society went on a steady decline, people became less and less interested in doing things with a purpose. For once, Seria found herself joining ranks with these pitiful urban zombie-like nomads, and she was ashamed to admit that she was enjoying the process. Even if there was only a little enjoyment to be derived from it all. She had seen a few people she knew as well, people whom she attended classes with or saw in the lunch room, but she made it a point to either ignore them or avoid eye contact and walk in the other directon altogether. She didn't want to be bothered by people she didn't know very well, and she didn't want to take part in any sort of half-arsed, awkward and painfully forced excuse of a conversation, if you could even call it that.
So, in trying to find something to do in a city that offered so little for one of her demeanor - there were limited amounts of libraries and the bookstores only got new stock in every so often, and they would not until the end of the week - Seria had managed to ghost herself all the way from one end of the city and over into the Park.
Normally, she did not bother with visiting the place - seeing people dueling in their respective corners of the area with the obnoxious crowds filled with cat-calling teenagers who thought they knew it all bored her dreadfully, and gave her absolutely no pleasure.
But, the park seemed fairly vacated, with only a few people milling about the grounds, laughing and talking with one another. Seria herself had taken over a bench, removing her jacket from the warm sunlight and draping it over the back, her book bag placed beside her as she rooted through it in search of something to read. Adjusting the ruffles at the collar of her home-made blouse, and pulling her lace gloves up over her hands, Seria plucked a bound package of leaflets from the plethora of literary wonders in her bag and cracked it open. A brand new Dean Koontz novel, ordered in just for her all the way from the United States of America. In English, too, so she could brush up on her third and final tongue.
Cracking it open gently, just enough so that she could see the words without actually putting a ripple in the spine - something that her hatred for was notorious - she sighed contentedly as she started in on it. Birds in the background, a beautiful sun shining overhead as though everything in the world was normal, people far away enough from her without being close enough to make her anxious, and an amazing novel. What more could she ask for? Absolutely nothing, in her mind. Hesitating for a moment, Seria set her novel down on her splayed out jacket, hauled her black legging-clad legs up and folded them Indian style, and then pulled her hair back into a loose ponytail. Off-blonde hair framed her pale face in awkwardly cut chunks, and the buckle was already in the process of falling out at a moment's notice, but she had already become oblivious to it as she buried her nose back into her new novel.