Despite living in Delumine for what seemed like eternity (really, it was only a few years), Sloane had rarely visited the library the court was known for. She had never been the sort to read. It was boring and seemed to make her eyes feel cross-eyed. Why would she read a bunch of words when she could go out and experience the world? Then again, Sloane didn’t really like to experience the world either. In fact, Sloane simply existed. She was brash, blunt, and a sore on everyone’s rump. Ipomoea seemed to be the only one she could tolerate, and perhaps that was because he gave her a private island where she didn’t have to do a damn thing. The only problem was the fucking fire squirrels on the island next to hers. It was like a bonfire every night, but she digresses.
The point of that narrative was simple: Sloane didn’t like anyone or anything. So to see her pacing the isles of the library was an odd sight. In fact, it was such a rare occurrence that Sloane hadn’t even bothered learning about library etiquette. Perhaps it irritated many of the frequent library goers, but she didn’t give rat’s shit of care about what other people thought.
As she’s busy flipping through the old, worn book, she hears the approach of another. What about her body language gave someone else the idea that she might want to be bothered? It definitely wasn’t the way her ears lay so flat against her skull that it looked like she had no ears at all. It always wasn’t the way her body was stiff with agitation, her tail flicking aggressively at her hocks, or the fact that her hoof scraped the bottom of the concrete floor producing a sound much like nails on a chalkboard.
And yet, the individual approaches. She hears his question before she looks up to see him. Perhaps that was a good thing because if she looked at him before he spoke, she’d be too busy laughing at his appearance to listen to anything he was saying. "Unless you can put a damn table of contents into this book, then I doubt you can." Always the irritated girl, Sloane had never been one to make friends. It was a little strange that Ipomoea could still somehow tolerate her. Not many could.
It was then that she slowly drew her eyes away from the old, ratted book to look at the individual who had the misfortune of conversing with her on this delightful occasion. No sooner than she turned her head towards him did her eyes fall on his overly large ears. A laugh rumbled in her chest and left unchecked, it filled the library. It was not a soft chuckle, no. It was a loud, obnoxious laugh that echoed through the halls. "Jesus…who fucked up your ears?" Words were spoken through fits of laughs, rude as ever. But Sloane, unfortunately, didn’t care.
@willfur
