fandomtownies | The Park; Late Thursday Afternoon.

Entry tags:

@park,
adah price

The Park; Late Thursday Afternoon.

Since she was already out of the habit of holing up in her room on Thursdays thanks to visiting Yondaime-sensei and she really wanted to put off the matter of stairs whenever she could, Adah was sitting at the center of the park (or, at least, as close as she could estimate). Her good leg was tucked in, notebook laid on top of it. Her bad leg was doing...she had no idea what it was doing, as usual, but it didn't look very comfortable, she imagined. She was humming, lightly, a familiar song to a different tune. Anyone who would pay close enough attention would recognize it as "Amazing Grace," but it was done as a dirge more than anything else. Thus was how it was sung in Africa, without union of tune or pitch or even words. They wee a regular Tower of Babel there at the First Baptist Church of Kilanga...But Adah had her own words to it, and, as she hummed the slow, dredging song, she wrote them, in time.

Evil, all....its sin....is still....alive!
Do go....Tata.....to God!
Sugar don't....No, drag us,
drawn onward,
A, he rose...ye eyesore, ha!

It has been a while since she reveled in palindromes. Everything here seemed more like almost palindromes, not enough actual palindromes, and the urge to make them palindromes, she felt, left her faltering, scrambling, drowning in a sea of ants without a hand to grasp onto.

[[ open for all your parkly needs! Bit of this stolen from Kingsolver's original text. ]]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Anakin was crossing the park on his way home and stopped to give the girl sitting a small smile. "Afternoon."

The humming stopped abruptly; her pen halted mid-word and Adah lifted her eyes, blinking at the man with what seemed like an unfinished question in her steady gaze. Part of it was mostly wondering if many people were in the habit of interrupting someone who was working on something (something entirely purposeless and idle, Adah would admit, but weren't most things like that), but another part of it was just because she'd rather gotten to enjoy trying to just put people off again. It never worked in the Congo, not really, so she'd missed it.

Anakin's smiled turned distinctly more amused. "I'm afraid if you're trying to put me off, you've got the wrong person. I'm considered a pain in the ass in at least 70 systems because of my complete disregard for social niceties."

Ah, then. He probably was in the habit of interrupting people when they were trying to work and hum. She quirked an eyebrow, wondering if she was supposed to be impressed, dess erp mi, with the slight suggestion that she might be slightly so if she knew at all what he meant by systems. Like cycles, circles? In that case, that wasn't impressive at all. A man like Toorlexa Nebee was a notorious pain in the ass, too, in all the colonies of Africa. If he could do it, nearly anyone could, if they wanted to.

"You don't have to be impressed," Anakin replied. "Being rude is hardly a selling point, anyway." He smiled. "I'm Master Skywalker. I teach ethics."

And it was then that Adah had confirmed the fact that, for how little she was saying, this supposed Master of Walking the Sky (and why was that feeling familiar?) seemed to be picking up on a lot of it. Since she already had her pen and notebook ready, she didn't see the reason why she shouldn't stop her palindromes, scribble something down, and then hold it up for him to see.

"Psychic?"

There were just so many of them here, it seemed. Fascinating, really, that level of comprehension, that most men could only dream of. If she had more than half a brain, she'd be bent on figuring out how they did it.

"Among other things," Anakin admitted with a nod. He tapped his forehead. "But I don't intrude unless invited. I just pick up on emotions."

Adah nodded slightly; so he was like the Bridge of Flesh and Bone from the other night. Interesting, really, that she should wind up in a place like this where what she was so used to no one being even remotely aware of, where it seemed nearly everyone could pick up on something.

Well, almost everyone. There were thankfully enough who were utterly clueless to keep the coveted balance, the needed reminder that her cynicism toward her fellow humankind remained founded in some idea of reality. She looked at the supposed Master of Walking the Skies, Se ik seht gnik law for et, Sam, thinking, and, finally, she wrote again.

"You seem familiar..." And it was starting to bother her.

Anakin smiled, looking very much like his son. "Have you met my son Luke?"

Adah's eyes were wide as her expression tried to contain within them the sharp reprimanding of her own mind as it settled in and she realized how almost painfully obvious it was. The great master of perception, Ada who sees All, failed to see what was right in front of her. That was the problem with being askance, with being slanted, she supposed.

"Ah," she wrote, thinking of apples and trees. "So that's what it is."

Anakin smiled and crouched down next to her. "You do know Luke, then."

With a soft nod and an even soft smile, Adah figured that if what Luke's father said was true about feeling emotions, that she wouldn't even have to write anything to let him know that her opinion of his son so far involved only good things, kind regard, and complete gratitude.

Anakin's smile broadened, pride evident in his eyes. "He's a good kid," he said quietly. "You're settling in?"

Again, Adah nodded, but returned to the notebook. "Much better than expected," she wrote; she thought her sudden desire to communicate in a less difficult manner was strange at first, but then she realized she was doing it for the sake of having something interesting to bring up the next time she 'talked' with Luke. Besides, she was intrigued by the idea of a father who actually didn't seem to begrudge his spawn for existing. "Sometimes too well, I'm afraid..."

"Too well?" Anakin repeated, frowning. Then it connected. "You're not used to belonging?" he guessed.

Adah let the small increase of her quiet little smile do the same work that a nod would have done. "And not used to enjoying it either."

Anakin gave her a sympathetic smile. "Welcome to Fandom," he said, voice surprisingly gentle for as many scars as he had crossing his face. "We're all a little broken here."

How interesting that he should choose that word. Broken. Ne korb. I SEE before me now, a traveling army halting; Below, a fertile valley spread, with barns, and the orchards of summer; Behind, the terraced sides of a mountain, abrupt in places, rising high; Broken, with rocks, with clinging cedars, with tall... Leaves of grass. Adah gave off a soft breath, almost a laugh, eyes sliding down to where she sat, in the park, surround by grass. A coincidental eel of consequence sliding in on its belly of connectivity, its scales of randomosity.

"Everyone," she wrote after a good long moment, "is all a little broken. It's just that some hide it better than others, and they're the ones that will probably show the worse for wear."

"Wisely put," Anakin replied, smiling at her. "Pushing it down only makes it worse in the end."

Adah's smile increased a touch, her head ducking slightly. She was starting to feel like one thing she could get used to easily (probably too easily) was how the people around here at least seemed to not only recognize her intelligence, but they appreciated it, too.

"You're not used to compliments," Anakin said quietly. "I don't mean to make you uncomfortable."

Adah gave a small snort. "Then you might be in trouble," she wrote. "With me, discomfort is inevitable."

"I'd rather not unwittingly inflict it," Anakin replied. "There are enough thoughtless morons around here without me adding to the group."

Diplomacy was clearly not his forte.

Adah's head shifted a little with a small expression of agreement; she certainly couldn't argue that. "You tell the truth," she wrote, "and not even slant. I have had the misfortune of a moron or two crossing my crooked path, but thankfully, the number is surprisingly small."

"I've been here for a long time," Anakin said. "Everyone has their shining moment of idiocy eventually." He paused. "Luke's keeping an eye on things?" He gave her a smile. "Not that you don't already have it covered, but someone watching your back can be helpful."

Adah arched an eyebrow at that last part, grinning a little wryly at the idea of someone actually bothering to watch her back. It indicated a foremost position in a line, to have someone behind enough to follow, which almost never happened. The last shall be first, the first shall be last.

"If anything," she wrote, "your son has impeccable timing. He was my second encounter here, following one that was highly unfortunate and in the vein of moments of idiocy. Which, might I add, Luke has yet to have one regarding me, which also reflects well on him."

Anakin practically glowed with pride. "He has a knack for finding the right moment," he said.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The Park; Late Thursday Afternoon.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject