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[strangeandunusual]

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(frozen)

[strangeandunusual]

[there's a new face in the library stacks, today, but she moves between them like she belongs there: a long black skirt and top, with a wide purple belt, and her hair up in the frizziest ponytail ever created. she almost looks like, somehow, even at 16, she hasn't quite learned how to dress herself. but she's got the Goth eye makeup down to a tee - purple eyeshadow, liner. no lipstick, no blush. she's carrying one of the few books Daria missed: a compilation of the works of Shirley Jackson.

she eyes the spines of the stack of books, and just quietly helps herself to the far end of the table, walking past just in time to hear Daria's muttered commentary. leaning in, she whispers, with a cautious sort of glee, the sort that suggests she wants this conversation, but is unsure if it's allowed]

Between their ears, maybe.

(frozen)

[standingonmyneck]

[...Oh, there was a guest here other than her? That was new. She was so used to being here totally alone; and that made this place completely perfect. But if there was going to be something disagreeable in her circle, maybe there was that smoky gray silver lining that Jane mentioned at one point. What she heard from the person was certainly agreeable.]

Nah, that would imply there was anything inside there at all.

(frozen)

[strangeandunusual]

[Lydia smiles, knowing better than to actually laugh in the library. it's for quiet, after all. she settles into the chair and cracks open the compilation, finding The Haunting of Hill House without even having to look at the table of contents. it's an old friend, even in a new library]

A vaccuum. ... If only their heads would actually implode.

[she dips her head down to read, a silent signal that she respects why they're both here. but if Daria wants to banter quietly every other page or so, she's down for that]

(frozen)

[standingonmyneck]

[It was okay. Daria was still reading Catch 22 as she seemed to welcome her new guest with some ease. Which was odd for her. It was just not an every day occurrence to hop into conversation. Especially in the library with strangers. But she seemed to pick up really fast. She sat with her book and respectfully picked her head up and down, making very natural chatter. Daria did the same.]

They do every day in class.

(frozen)

[strangeandunusual]

How strange, that it keeps happening and somehow they aren't dead yet.

[a pause, and then a look of delicious, mischievous glee over the top of her book]

Unless they're undead.

... I haven't read Heller yet. Is that assigned, or are you reading it just because?

[there's no judgement in her tone, simply the curiosity and appreciation of a fellow literati]

(frozen)

[standingonmyneck]

[A small hum in her voice. Interesting, it all was.]

You're giving them too much credit again.

[That also didn't seem too critical at all really, despite her deadpan couldn't-care-less monotone. Proven a bit further as she looked to her book before looking back at her.]

Reading is a pastime of my people. I just sometimes prefer outside it out of my house.

(frozen)

[strangeandunusual]

You're right, if they were undead, I might have to consider giving them my actual attention.

[Lydia's got a few more tones in her repetoire than Daria, but she's not about to let that cow her. she reads a few more pages, letting this nice balance between banter and reading stretch and have room to grow. she's read this one a thousand times, so it's mostly a comfort read in a crappy situation.]

Your people, too, huh. If I didn't have a distraction from how cookie-cutter suburbian this is, I'll probably lose it even more than they already thought I did in Vermont. And my camera's out of film.

[she used up most of it taking artsy gothy photos of her empty room before she unboxed everything. and that awesome dead tree in the yard.]

(frozen)

[standingonmyneck]

So it is true, Lawndale is the dead middle of nowhere. Spoken from a ex-Vermonter. Now at least I'm not crazy. Yet.

[Turned the page.]

Better get more film when you can. I can at least attest you'd find depressing subjects for photographs.

(frozen)

[strangeandunusual]

Maybe they'll give me a discount if I buy in bulk.

[she lets them both read in silence for a while, before... deciding to test the waters]

Is there anything genuinely weird around here? You know ...

[a signifigant glance toward the Poe in Daria's pile to remind herself she's possibly not likely to be judged for asking]

Spooky?

(frozen)

[standingonmyneck]

[She won't be judged, but there were some wheels turning. Something scary?]

That depends on what you mean by "spooky". What's going on here in the library is a horror story. Lawndale High is another.

[Wait...hold it. She took her finger to her chin, completely engaged.]

Since you're new, I guess no one told you about Tommy Sherman?

(frozen)

[strangeandunusual]

No, never heard of him.

[hook, line, and sinker, Daria. she leans forward]

He's not the school ghost or something...? Or is he just a sicko?

(frozen)

[standingonmyneck]

Just an old jerk face quarterback that graduated and came back just so he could be renounced a Great Hero.

[Deadpan leaning in, dramatic whisper.]

Until the very goal post dedicated to him fell on him; did the touchdown.

(frozen)

[strangeandunusual]

Oh my God, no way.

[the words are a stereotypical teen's, but her tone is still a little flat, fascination creeping in at the edges, with a tinge of quiet glee, the certain flavor only certain macabre personalities can pull off.]

I think some people would call that karma. Let me guess, certain zombies in close proximity consider it the equivalent of glorious death in combat...

(frozen)

[standingonmyneck]

If by "zombies", you mean, "most of the football team, the principal, and most of the cheerleaders". Then yeah. They thought he died as he lived; gloriously, and in perpetual narcissism and misogyny.

[Whoa, she was in this. Daria couldn't lie and say she wasn't. She didn't care if such a football person was in the library right now. Brittany was safe, Daria knew she hated him.]

(frozen) I didn't forget about this I swear

[strangeandunusual]

Numbskulls.

[Lydia cracks the tiniest of smiles]

Please tell me they leave little offerings to the spirit of his ego on the anniversary of his death so I can take pictures and give them ironically witty titles.