fandomtownies | The Perk; Thursday Afternoon.

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adah price

The Perk; Thursday Afternoon.

There was an artist in 218, so there was an Adah in the coffee shop, although, really, by now, there was a good chance he was gone, but the event that he would still be there was all the more reason why she would limp away and stay here. Comfortable chairs, and she was out for class, anyway. Class that had her thinking a lot about red ants, and Leah. Half of a sandwich mostly forgotten but with tea quickly disappearing, Adah was curved over a notebook on the table, attempting to write a letter, in pieces of French, pieces of Kilanga, pieces of a language the two of them had made up entirely when they were seven and somehow kept alive in the attempt to talk about things that the parents would disapprove of.

There were several problems, though. Among them was the fact that she didn't know what to say to Leah. Another was the fact that she still didn't know where Leah was. She wanted to ask about Anatole, but perhaps they'd parted ways. Perhaps either of them were even dead. Adah still tried to piece something together out of her fragmented twin language, so that it would be there, it would be ready, should she ever get that message on her phone from Orleanna, or a letter in the mail one of these days proclaming, "They found her. We know where she is."

[[ open for all your perkly needs; Adah is mostly interruptible and likely distractable ]]

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River had gone for a walk after lunch. Her class had been good - it was Kerrigan's class after all, and River was the TA, something which made her proud, but the meeting in the library - and she certainly wasn't referring to Adah this time - bothered her.

Despite the connection with the library, seeing Adah at the Perk made River smile and her thoughts turn in other directions. She waved through the window.

As far as distractions went, perhaps Adah had been looking for one. Still bent over her unfinished letter (she'd noticed that she'd been doing that often lately, the close and crooked bending over things, and she wondered if it was something that occured in the rewiring of her movements after the coma or if it was simply a rewiring of her brain that lead her to noticing it more), she frowned at it. True, it wasn't like it would actually be sent; where would she send it to? But the fact that she had so much trouble with it was bothering her. She was thinking about her own advice to Glitch the other day, the patchwork letter, but hers, with the various language and Leah-only codes within, was already patchwork. Maybe that was it; patchwork suited Adah just fine, but it just wasn't Leah.

Either way, the movement of something in the window caught her eye easily enough, glad for a distraction. Especially if it wound up to be one as good as the last time she'd been distracted by movement through that window. Well, it was River. Not nearly as dramatic as unveiling your mother's sordid affair but she wasn't about to disclose the possibility of dramatics yet. Not after yesterday. She tilted her head a moment before she moved it, nodding toward the empty chair across from her in a silent invitation through the barrier of glass that River should come join her. She tucked her pen under her hand to free up a finger or two to push the unfinished sandwich toward that chair, too, in case River might be hungry enough to want it. Adah had no plans of finishing.

She sensed Adah's mood even through the window, but that didn't make River hesitate. If Adah had questions that needed answers, River would answer. She might also eat the rest of Adah's sandwich, if she insisted she didn't want it. Waste was bad, after all. Picking up a cup of coffee, River took a seat opposite Adah.

Deciding that she was good and finished with the letter for the moment, Adah's pen rested over the jumbled thoughts to Leah, freeing up her hand so that she could rest her chin in, prop herself up slightly as she carefully watched River as she came in, as she stood waiting to order, as she got her coffee, and as she moved to take the seat. Adah shifted again; her watching had been thoughtful without many thoughts. She was still stuck on too much Oscar Wilde and red swarming fire ants to clear out much else, but the tilt of her head once River sat down was a question, and her eyes were watching for an answer. There was quite an untold story about that librarian, wasn't there? One that even continued to propegate the differences between River and the Eel; she doubted she was going to get any of the warm reception that he had out of her.

There was a story of course, and River would tell it, but as she was about to start there was this mention of eels. Her eyes darkened. "Lee didn't have a story like mine to tell," she snapped, leaning backwards, crossing her arms, staring back at Adah.

The tilt of Adah's head remained, but her expression shifted with a bit of a hard look across the table. She had never suggested that he did; this whole issue with the Eel was, while understandable, going to be a severe problem if Adah couldn't even do as much as make a basic comparison in a unrelated issue without causing her to get all stiff about it. If it made River feel any better, though, she'd try to focus more on the fact that the principal had punched him as a reflection of her building opinion of the Librarian over her own exchange of notes with a fellow aide.

"He was sent to kill me. Or capture. Claims to be changing, but turn someone into a weapon and that part will always remain." She should know, after all.

River relaxed a little. She was aware that her reactions regarding Lee were influenced by the fact that he was, in many ways, a lot better company than herself. While she certainly didn't trust the new librarian, she was far too much like him than she was like the Eel.

Adah watched River carefully, closely; she didn't have the benefit of telepathy, but she could glean thoughts from small things, and she focused on doing that while running through her head, most likely for River's benefit as well as her own, her encounters thus far. The pieces fit together well enough for her to suppose that River had meant he had been sent, at one point, not necessarily this point in time, but she supposed that it was still nothing to be taken lightly. Change was a difficult thing; for most of her life, she'd been expose to people who, no matter what, cannot change, her father, Rachel, and people who could, Leah, her mother. And people who had to, herself. And River.

Not that she wanted to choose sides, of course, but the man who took both a verbal and physical blows without even an ounce of retaliation that she witness today seemed to barely fit what River was saying. A part always remained, that much was true, but if River was capable of being altered from that, what made her special? Why couldn't someone else?

Rhetoric, all of it. She didn't exactly expect, or want, River to answer. She was there for a story that was, not a story that would be. If River did, indeed, mean that he had been sent, during a different time, then, clearly, it didn't work. If he was sent, in this point and time, well, then, that'd be a different thing....

"I was never finished. Lacking the control." She looked away. "Change can't be completely reversed. Past mission failing, resulting in a change of direction. Trip and fall and you're back on the old course. Has happened before." She had attacked friends, after all, beat up a bar full of people. "For a secret weapon, someone else pulls the trigger. Self control is so deceptive." She wanted Adah to understand her fear, but that was so entwined in what she was frightened of in herself.

It wasn't exactly on the same level as what River was talking about, she knew, but Adah would expect her to know that, if anyone, Adah could understand what it was like to lack control over something. The last time she lost conscious control of her body, she lost conscious control over everything. Thought, movement. Only functions she didn't control at all were there and barely. And even if they couldn't control things...

...But River did have one thing. She barely knew the principal at all, but, in that brief span of time during third period, she knew enough to know that she'd never in her life known anyone like that, except for one person. Anatole Ngemba, who saved her life when even her own mother had looked on it and decided that, no, it wasn't worth anything, she didn't need it, she'd leave it to the ants. In that brief span of time during third period, it became pretty damn clear that River had at least one Anatole there, that might have a better chance at control, who, if that brief span of time during third period was any indication, probably wasn't going to allow even the smallest slip in control.

Now there was a tiny smile appearing. "Zoe never fails. But I don't trust him." She paused. "Trust him less than I trust myself."

There were other people she trusted to protect her though, specifically Kerrigan and Anakin. She looked at Adah, curious. "Would you trust him?"

[Bedtime!]

Adah leveled a dubious gaze toward River. That question wasn't any good, because Adah didn't trust anyone. She couldn't. She never really had been either; she never was able to trust herself, based on a condition from the fact that her twin sister couldn't even subconsciously share the appropriate amount of nutrients during development. It was mild distrust of everything, though, for a good amount of time. Once you looked into the face of your own mother, though, the one person that you were supposed to have an unconditional bond of, and have her turn her back and make you realize you couldn't trust even her, well...

Adah gave a weak smile.

River gave her a sad smile in return. "So why should I?"

She picked up Adah's sandwich and took a bite, chewing thoughtfully. "Would kill him if I had to. Would that bother you?"

Adah sighed, slumping back slightly in her chair. It was a little frustrating, that someone as smart as River could miss the point. Of course Adah wasn't suggesting that River should trust this man; in fact, from what she could tell, it would be stupid for River to do so. But River could trust other people. That made all the difference in the world, and, ultimately, it made Adah and River very different. She just said herself, Zoe never fails, and Adah knew River had a brother that had given things up for her. Adah didn't have anyone who'd do that for her. And, even if River didn't have that sort of support, River had proven herself more than capable of defending herself. It made all the difference in the world, and it was starting to strike a chord of annoyance in Adah that River just couldn't see how goddamned lucky she was. Yes, she had someone who had tried to kill her, but at least she knew about it, knew where he was, people like the principal who could be there, and an ability to take care of herself. Like River said again. She would kill him if she had to. She could probably kill him if she had to. Which she might not have to. So what was the issue here again? And how the hell did she get to the point of slumping sourly in a chair while playing devil's advocate for a man she didn't know and most likely didn't intent on knowing?

Yes, River missed the point, because for her it wasn't an issue. "I would support you. I would kill for you if necessary." She said this matter-of-factly, seeming surprised that Adah didn't already know.

With a soft, tiny snort, Adah shook her head. That would be a complete waste of energy right there. And it wasn't that Adah didn't know; it wasn't even that Adah didn't believe it, because she did. It was that Adah couldn't ever conceive of herself in a position where it would ever be an option.

"You can trust some people." River was certain that Lee too would seriously object to someone trying to hurt Adah. "Sometimes necessary, sometimes not. Don't take killing lightly though." River frowned. It seemed like Adah didn't understand, or perhaps didn't want to. "Ghosts from the past are rarely a good thing, even if you can defend yourself." The look in her eyes had turned pleading, begging Adah to try and understand her.

River's expression made Adah's frown deepen. Was she honestly sitting there, acting like she didn't understand ghosts from the past? Every one had them; she did understand. Nathan Price could walk through that door right now, claim in his boisterous voice to have changed his ways, and the situation would be perfectly reversed; River would be sitting where Adah was and probably telling Adah that the ghosts of the pasts weren't good, no, but that's what they were. Ghosts. Orleanna left Adah to be eaten alive, after silently communicating to her daughter that she wasn't worth the extra time it would take to be saved. Orleanna tried to kill Adah, not directly, true, but it was just as much murder as if she'd come at Adah with a knife.

And what did Adah do? Spent Christmas with her would-be murderer.

"My parents left me in the hands of those who would have turned me into a murderer. Will never speak to them again." River's voice was hard and cold, but it wasn't aimed at Adah, but the people who had once given her life.

Of course, Adah didn't have a Simon, but now she had a River and even an Eel. No need for ghosts. "Could have spent it with me or Lee."

Adah found herself sighing in frustration again. That wasn't the point. The back and forth, she realized, the diversions into a comparison of haves and have-nots left the point lost somewhere in the cracks of the floor beneath them. She wasn't sure what he point was anymore, except perhaps, quietly resigned in her mind, that bitterness at something like this was only human. But they were better than only human. There were better ways to manage the bitterness. She spent Christmas with Orleanna because she had no one left but the one she didn't want, and every time Orleanna saw Adah limp quietly around her quiet little apartment, she was reminded of her failure. Because I could not stop for Death, He kindly stopped for me. Adah didn't plan on stopping. River shouldn't, either.

She guessed that, maybe, that was her point.

Then River smiled a little. "Another reason for me to visit the library. Show up and remind him of the past. Not the haunted but the haunter." She reached out to poke Adah's hand. "Good, but not as good as hiding behind shelves with you."

That was right; that was it. River, like Adah to her mother, had to become the ghost of his past, not the other way around. She took in a slightly apprehensive breath; discussions like this were exhausting for her, and then River had to go and poke her hand and make a comment like that. Adah smirked weakly. One track mind, that River girl. A horrible influence. Maybe that explained Adah's jump to devil's advocate for the librarian's case. She had to do something so that he didn't just fire her miscreant butt.

"I'd have a serious talk with him if he did," River replied, the laughter in her eyes making the comment jokingly. But Adah's suggestion was a good one and River would certainly follow her advice. "And rivers tend to run in one direction. Hard to make them turn."

Adah's head ducked in allowing River the point for that one. Very hard, and River wasn't even a river like the Kwilu, which ran slow and languid, muddy brown with misconceptions. She was fast and clear and babbling, difficult to keep up with.

And in response to that River leaned forward, her heands reaching for Adah's and her lips reaching for her cheek. "Difficult to keep up with isn't necessarily a bad thing."

Smiling lightly, Adah gave what little she could in helping River's reach with a slight stretch forward, a small angling of her head so that the cheek was better presented. She never said it was, after all.

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The Perk; Thursday Afternoon.

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