History's Mysteries

[Ginger Belrose]

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What prompted Ginger to leave the comfort of her bed at such an early hour? Even she couldn't tell you.

After a night of peaceful sleep, she awoke to the gentle rays of sunlight streaming in through her sheer curtains. She reminded herself to be thankful to wake up in the daylight and not have to be bothered with the troubles of living a life locked in the night.It was a ritual of thanks her mother had instilled on her at a ripe young age and she had taken it back up once she passed.

Like most days, she didn't have anything that she had to do. Ginger hated idle time, as that was when she typically caused the most trouble. So she fumbled about in the closet and took out clothes to wear. She brushed out her blonde hair and brushed her teeth. Ginger wasn't about to try very hard at this time of day. Most of the residents of the town wouldn't be up she suspected. It was a Saturday, a day for relaxing and recovering from hangovers of the night before. But she didn't do any celebrating last night, no, she stayed home to talk to her aunt on the phone. They didn't talk much ever since she left New Jersey, but when they did it was for many hours.

Ginger liked those conversations. She had yet to meet another fairy in the area and being the only of her kind certainly made her feel lonely. That was a feeling she didn't appreciate in the least.

Once she was dressed and ready to go, she decided on visiting the library. There was a lot one could learn by the books found in a library, that was how Ginger felt of it all. So she opened the door and turned her sights to the trusty public building she considered her second home.

Inside it was quiet, the only sound coming from the hum of the air conditioner. The librarian seemed to be half asleep at the desk, absent mindedly clicking away at the computer. Ginger offered a friendly smile to the woman, but it seemed to go unnoticed. This didn't bother her, however, and she continued on.

Ginger liked old history books. She loved the feel of the worn pages and the fine layers of dust that collected on their spines. She was happy to find that this library had a fair share of the books she longed to read, and she filled her arms with three or four of the heavier variety.

She maneuvered into one of the overstuffed arm chairs and pulled her legs up to sit cross legged. She placed the extra books in her laps and cracked open the book on top. The pages were brown and worn, just as she had hoped. Ginger quickly lost herself in the book, going off into her own little world right there inside the library.

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outfit:clicky
tag:open~
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[Michael Phillips]

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There were a lot of things he didn't like about libraries. As far as he was concerned, places that prohibited ( and what was it with the word 'prohibited'? Why couldn't they just say "no eating, please", why not just a sign that read "we don't want ketchup on our stacks of paper, so leave your burger at the door"? Why was it always something like: " Consuming prepackaged foods prohibited" or "smoking not permitted". ) eating were built for boring people who didn't know a good time if it bit them in the ass.

And what kind of place didn't allow talking? There was the occasional grunt, the sporadic sigh and the rare muffled curse but other than that, hardly any sound could be heard in the large musky rooms. It seemed unnatural for so many people to be in one place and then not talk. Eerie almost. This, in Michael's opinion, only further proved his point that places such as libraries were not built to entertain. And it's not like he loved to talk. He didn't. He doesn't. He appreciates a good silence. Would pick a good silence over a meaningful conversation any day. (A bad silence is fine too) He's good with silences. Just not when they're forced upon him. Like he's not good with anything that's forced upon him. (Which doesn't mean he won't yield to it. It doesn't mean he won't oblige. He's just doesn't like it.) But that's not the point.

They were all the same. In the end, all libraries were the same: musky rooms that smelled like dust and toner, with signs expressing their forbidding of all things good in life. ( although, he had heard about the back rows in libraries, the ones were they kept all the special ( translation: older, dustier, even more unreadable) books, being used for things that had very little to do with theoretic knowledge. He liked the smell. The smell of books. Michael knew how to finish that sentence. "The smell of books. The smell of knowledge. Of freedom." He liked the escape it offered. The promise. The foresight of freedom. That's why he chose to spend time in the library. Surrounded by books and people that were all there for the same reason. Surrounded by normal.

Azure. Beryl. Cerulean. Cobalt. Indigo. Navy. Royal blue. Sapphire. Ultramarine. Michael slammed the thesaurus shut. Damn book was useless. What to do, what to do? He could always look up dirty words in the dictionary. Or he could make his way over to the magazine rack and ogle the naked ladies in National Geographic. He could take a nap in an arm chair like a homeless dude. With less stink, of course. It was always fun hassling the old librarians by trying to check out an encyclopedia. Old biddies always got so uppity. He sighed from the depths of his soul. There was nothing to do! He got up, stretched nonchalantly, then headed over to the table of computers. He took a stack of scrap paper by the little cups of tiny pencils and walked back to sit back down in his seat.

He spotted Ginger not far away. At last, he'd found a solution to his boredom. Quietly, under the table, Michael crumpled one of the pieces into a ball. With his other hand he angled the thesaurus up a bit. He placed the ball of paper on the book and flicked it. Biting his lip to keep from laughing, He looked down and pretended to read. Ghost: Apparition. Ethereal being. Haunt. Incorporeal being. Phantasm. Phantom. Poltergeist. Shade. Shadow. Soul. Specter. Spook. Wraith. Huh. He'd seen a few of those things and hadn't know half of their names. Interesting. Almost forgot what he was doing for a minute. He peeked up at Ginger, eyes wide and innocent, and shrugged.

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tag Ginger/Open
word count

[/b] 680
notes[/b] your notes here
lyrics Demons by Imagine Dragons
credit Rae of Sunshine! of Caution 2.0 made this temp!
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[Ginger Belrose]

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History, to normal people, could be a very boring thing. She couldn't count the times she had heard ignorant people complain about learning the past. They would complain that it was over, it had happened and there was no point in learning about it. But she knew that wasn't true. One could learn from history, know what mistakes not to make and she knew for a fact that history did repeat itself. Though it hadn't done much of that in her lifetime, it certainly did in her aunt's life.

This book was filled with pictures, it had obviously been printed and released in the late 1950's, or at least that was what the art looked like to Ginger. She liked it though, it was much different than what was in books nowadays. It was creative and fun in a way with just a hint of whimsy.

She found herself intently studying the pictures when something lightweight hit her square in the forehead. It fell into the book and rolled into her lap. She picked up the crumpled up sheet of paper and raised a brow. She didn't know of anyone sitting nearby when she first came, how much time had passed?

Ginger unfolded it to find just a blank paper. That was odd, she was sure that if someone had thrown her the paper it was for a reason. A note or something like that. She finally looked up to find the source, only to meet a man hidden suspiciously by a thesaurus. A mischievous smirk inched onto her lips as she waited, she had a good feeling that she knew just who was behind that book.

Within a few seconds of waiting, the face of none other than Michael peeked up from the book. Her brows furrowed in playful anger as she tossed the ball of paper right back at her significant other, being sure to put in a little force behind the toss just to be sure she kept his attention.

Ginger held up her book and put a finger to her lip, as if to shush the already silent Michael. It was more of a typical stereotype of a librarian, but it was fun to do nonetheless. "You'll get us kicked out if we keep this up." She whispered as quietly as possible. She did have a tendency to take things to the extreme when she was having fun.

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outfit:clicky
tag:michael/open
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