The three hour nap had probably been the best decision Vala had made many a moon. She stretched her stiff arms, reaching for the ceiling. Her tiny maw opened to a gaping yawn, mewling in content as a baby kitten. She rubbed her haggard eyes, thoughts of Eoin still buried in her hazy, sleepy state. Still having felt dirty from the kitchen and the encounter with the disfigured Dek, Vala had slept on top of her covers to prevent contaminating her inner sheets. Her rest had been deep and peaceful, uninterrupted by the neighbors who had left for work. It was utterly peaceful to be so alone in the common rooms. She had never given Kirna forewarning about her morning, and well midday now, absence. Vala knew, while she would not be punished for her ‘laziness’, she would still have to pay a steep price – overtime. As she marched off to her fate, her cool fingers reached for her exposed forearms, unconsciously scratching the flesh off layer by layer. It wasn’t that Vala wanted to scar herself; if she knew what she was doing, and the risk it would put on her beauty, she would have slapped herself unconscious, but it was honestly just a nervous tick, one that manifested when she was trying to stifle her thoughts – Eoin. “So glad you could join us!” Kirna said, the bite of sarcasm lessened by her playful smile and raised eyebrow. “Most of the shelving has been done for day. Go repair at least half of the books at the repair station.” With her orders dispensed, Kirna walked away to her own work. She hated the youth who wasted her time. It irked her more than usual to have to dismiss Vala so; she was usually one of the hardest workers in the Enclave, always eager, sometimes too eager, to please her superiors. For the past few days, the sharp eyes matron had watched as Vala seemed to waste away, her decline evident in mere hours. But the young woman was always so distant, so aloof, so unwilling to share her life that she didn’t dare pry or be rebuked by the inferior caste member. The uncertainty gnawed in her usually cast iron stomach. Vala nodded meekly at Kirna’s turned back. Her small feet, turned to weights as she made her way to the station. She slumped into the stool, realizing her nap hadn’t been as energizing as she had needed. Her dull, senseless fingers reached for the closest book. She could barely feel its worn binding. Her bloodshot eyes ran over the Pottery How-to Book, trying to assess the full extent of the damage. It took a while for her fuzzy mind to catch the frayed binding. Going straight to golem mode, she reached down to pull out the repair tool basket. Her slim fingers were perfect, almost as if she was born for such work, as she deftly began to cut away at the hanging threads of the binding. Once the edges were cleanly trimmed she gently placed the sciccors to the side, and picked up a small bottle of lacquer. Unscrewing the lid, using quite a bit of force, Vala dipped in the small accompanying brush. Using the slim brush, barely a finger thick, she began to dab at the edges. Not enough of the binding had shredded away to deserve a new set of binding, a task Vala had yet to be able to do on her own, so Vala did what she did best and hedged the damage as best she could. Resting her heavy head in her left hand, she waited for the first layer of lacquer to dry before applying the next. It took her a good five chimes to get four, somewhat sloppy, layers hardening as a temporary protective layer on the book. Dragging the ledger to her, pushing the repaired book the side, Vala opened to the latest page. Taking a chime to get all the writing utensils in order, Vala started to write out her repair notes on the latest line. First she made sure to write the book name, call number, damage: frayed spine, and the date. In the notes she made sure to mention that the binding wouldn’t last any more than two seasons, even with the temporary lacquer. She asterisked it as a reminder for it to be checked on after a while. Normally she would clutter the record book with her pretentious calligraphic fonts, but today she was just too tired, as she pushed through her job with the vigor of a corpse. With the binding repair tools already splayed out, and Vala too lazy to put them away again, Vala searched for another book in need of binding repair. It didn’t take her long to find one, this time it was a book on hunting. Going the reverse order, so that she could put away as little as possible, Vala recorded the book’s stats first. She grunted in annoyance when she realized she had messed up the title, pretty bad, in her careless state. There wasn’t enough room in the line to re write it again, so she gritted her teeth and crossed out all of the info, just so she could rewrite it on the line before. Normally the fastidious girl loved record keeping, just because she tended to excel at anything that announced the work she did, but it was just so hard to focus for her, with her head starting to pound like tribal drums. She continued to fix the similar frayed binding situation with dogged slowness. She began to wonder if she was just wasting her time in the Enclave feeling the way she did. She was hungry, but she didn’t want to go back to the kitchens just yet – what if she saw Eoin? But then again, she wanted to get that business settled now, just so she could stop feeling the way she did, but what would she do? Yell at him? She had no right – he didn’t attack her. He even defended her. He didn’t need to. Vala scowled, feeling weak and pathetic, remembering how she sniveled on the floor, waiting for someone, anyone to notice her. It had taken her ten chimes to finally get it into her thick skull that no one was going to help her, so she helped herself. Fleeing the scene with her tail betwixt her legs. Vala gasped, looking down, she saw that she had painted her own hand with the lacquer. She hadn’t been paying attention to the book she was repairing, and had grown careless. She stopped, re capping the lacquer vial so she could wipe and peel off the quick hardening liquid, her head bent low. Only a frizzled ball of fiery red remained visible behind the Enclave’s reception desk. |