can't prove it, viola & hanna.
Nov 29, 2023 23:18:52 GMT -5
Post by 🌱 kaitlin. on Nov 29, 2023 23:18:52 GMT -5
HANNA
SNOWSPIRE.
The smell of old books has never been particularly comforting.
Nimmons has tried to convince Hanna time and time again over the years. She always says that it's the smell of the paper, carefully preserved in her diligent hands. Time after time though, Hanna steps over the threshold into the library and all she really gets is musk, an almost moldy smell that used to nauseate her.
Hanna had spent as inordinate amount of time in the library during her life though, especially when one considers the state of her grades, and the many times her teachers have arched a thin brow at her technically late submissions. Munroe had worked with her enough times on making to do lists and daily planners to understand by now; deadlines didn't matter until they were right in front of her, and nothing gets done unless it has to be.
Urgency alone would motivate the young musician.
Tonight, no deadlines in sight, Hanna thought about going to sleep at a decent hour and then laughed at herself reflection in the dark window. It's the sound of floorboards creaking that first splits her attention. The low, flickering light from the emergency backup had been enough to build pressure behind her eyes as it was; the moment the floorboard creaks, Hanna notices, even over the whistle of the storm through the old windows. Nestled in the corner of the library, Hanna curls into herself on her chair, pulling her feet up and folding her legs together. It makes the plaid mini skirt she's wearing hike up around her waist a little too high, but she trusts the thick, black tights she's got on to keep all the important bits tucked away. She's technically only supposed to be down here doing work on an assignment for Cheng. She'd gotten special permission to use the library late night for school, but she'd abandoned her canvas book bag with the assignment on the chair next to her, forgotten in favor of the 500 piece puzzle featuring, supposedly, a beach in district four.
A little sunshine sounded so nice right now.
She'd just found the last piece of the border when she'd dismissed the first creak. It's easy enough to write off the sound, buffered by the billowing wind rolling against the nearby windows. The second tickles the back of Hanna's neck though, a pattern emerging, and she unfolds herself in her chair. Another creak, and now she's distracted.
Hanna thinks about calling out, but curiosity eats her words and she pushes out of her seat instead of being annoyed. The chair makes a light scraping sound against the wood. The thick soles of her shoes do little to hide her footsteps, and she doesn't work to make them lighter, a half grin spreading across her cheeks when she hears the tell tale sounds of shuffling clothes.
She lets the smirk drop when Viola emerges from the stacks ahead of her, but the warmth doesn't quite leave her eyes. Someone looks a little caught, red-handed.
"You're looking rather..." the words lingered at the tip of her tongue, hesitating. "Rumpled."
A quirk of her eyebrow, she let the rest of the truth hang between them. Like the fact that on her way to the library Hanna had seen Sylan heading towards the dorms to sleep.
"Late night study date?"
