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[idiosyncreant]

O come, Desire of Nations, bind
In one the hearts of all mankind:
Bid ev'ry sad division cease
And be Thyself our Prince of Peace.

Rejoice! Rejoice!
Emmanuel shall come for thee, O Israel.

This morning I was [re]given the gift of personal internet access. It is a wondrous thing.

I've been having fun being the posessor of monies to buy people presents. And tickets to Panama. And spending money to enjoy the thought of going.
It's funny to be rich.

But I am. Not in most peoples' perspectives, but to me? I am verra, verra well off.

I can read again. I read The Changeling Sea, which is a book that I feel richer by merit of reading it. I'm working on L'Engle's A Circle of Quiet and fascinated that her Walking on Water is rivaled here. For any YA Readers:

Theodosia and the Serpents of Chaos
    Now this book follows a very standard, child gifted to save the world adventure story format. There was nothing all that original in that direction, in the basic thread of story.
    Theodosia, however is a Egyptologist couple's daughter and has come to the sage year of twelve or so with a great amount of secret acumen into ridding their artifacts of curses only she can see--she's grown up in a more minor museum her father is in charge or something of, and overnights in a sarcophogus there if she absolutely has to stay. She has wriggled out of governess or boarding school by merit of the rather well-put absentness of her parents who are nuts for Egypt history. They don't know how much she knows, but this is not on purpose--however, she does come to use that. She is precocious, but only as much as many homeschooled bookworms I've hobnobbed with. She's fallible in very ordinary ways, and quite fun to be around because her dated English isn't stilted so much as humorous.
This forms the basis of the archeo-Gothic furniture in the house of the book. And I am fond of unusual furniture. When accompanied by well-suited characters of depth.
I recommend it quite highly.

So, I'm feeling quite rich and comfy at the moment. Hobbitishly content, as it were.
I'm not quite done with the Shadow Thieves (Chronus Chronicles 1.) but it is lovely, lovely work.
I love YA novels.

Altair tried to melt into the linoleum and white-painted walls, as the kid who'd torched the climbing wall walked by in the hallway. He didn't like to take cover, but when a temper like that was stiffed in the norm-track tryouts, what else could you do?

Destruction talents really ought to have their own schools.

But then, the clever other-kinds would still be around, and there would be no annihilation-gifted Gillespie looking bewildered beside him to keep the viciousness of certain other people under wraps.

“Shove it, Val.” The venom in that voice made him tense, but then it said, “Go fish.”

It made him nervous enough to just be sitting across from Orion in a going-for-the-kill mood. Orion was not winning, either. Sometimes he wondered if the all-Para schools were really so that the other kids could counter the fire-breathers, or at least know when not to go there. Orion only read minds, but he was a thug so he could use that in violent ways a lesser mind could not even imagine.

“Just because he's thinking it doesn't mean you have to react, y' psych,” Aloy said, brave like a madman.

And it was Altair's turn again. Being a bod really didn't make good in this game. He'd been putting far too much thought into getting away with crime since Aloysius had started on this twisted Go Fish kick. The point of playing the babies' game, retrofitted with use of powers, was in the dare. The loser had to take a forfeit, and Orion could be a devil of a schemer.

"Orion, do you have a six?"

"Go fish."

Only Orion could have managed to make that an insult to his intelligence, musculature, and guardian angel all at once. He was rubbing the back of his hair, as if utterly bored. He was actually likely to be scoping out the other guys for hints of what their cards were, just like Aloysius kept quiet to hear them thinking, and Hespero strategized four rounds ahead based on his perfect knowledge of the location of all the cards. Bods like Altair had to bluff it, and sometimes team up with lesser psychs to stop Orion or Hespero.

Or just bluff. Altair drew his six from the pool with a flourish, and asked for two of his neighbor's cards, pretending they matched some of his. As his turn ended he relaxed again. For the moment, avoiding the penalty for losing (whatever they'd think up today) was out of his hands. That he'd forgotten to help Gillespie out again was a problem for the next time. He avoided Gill's eye, though.

"Attention. Students. Attention. Students." The Announcement Lady, in her customary monotone, came over the PA right beside the knot of card-players, "A charm has been placed in the North Hall, and left over 24 hours. Would the charm-maker please report--to the North Hall--to collect their sparrows. The janitorial management has requested the removal for maintenance. Thank you."

There were a few sniggers, though none of them had been involved in the charm. Altair thought fixedly of sparrows and charms and janitors, as Orion's turn came again, and kept all his cards, though that could have been Orion's hand, not his own defenses.

When his turn came, Orion gave a pointed stretch and tilted his head. His shellacked black hair crackled against his trunk of a neck. He looked Gillespie in the eye. He didn't need eye contact to read minds—he needed it to be completely intimidating.

He jerked up and raised a hand to a passing freshman, though,

"Thank you, babe!"

The girl jumped. She looked back, grabbed a friend's arm, and ran away. Orion chuckled.

"What was she thinking?" Gillespie asked.

"I am the hotness." He licked his lips, as if agreeing, then went on, "Hey, just because you burned the queen of hearts, doesn't mean I want to do something similar to your queen of spades, Gillespie." He liked making dialogue to show off. "No, I think I'll take that left-over two, now that Altair ransacked you. Then again, I think Valdemar might consent to letting me have the ace...I really don't know. Hmm. I'll take the two and the five. --Valdemar, go fish."

Valdemar went fish facially while he drew. Altair noticed one of the senior track girls rolling her eyes in disgust, but looked away in time so her friend Brandy wouldn't sense him looking. For a guy who claimed to speak with machines (not to, with) Valdemar was rather normal, he thought.

"Valdemar," Aloysius drawled in his Crownsland accent, words tinted with false politeness, "I really think you should let me have that king. I need it."

Valdemar handed it to him. As usual, there was no way to prove Valdemar had it (as Hespero declined to interfere) before Orion told him to draw. He was really good at not thinking about his cards—so maybe this game was a practice of working around powers. Though that only really came in handy if you were going to deal with Para-villains; and who had to do that anymore?

Aloysius, sprawled with a sort of uncanny grace against the hall's painted brick wall, took Val's card, then turned to Altair,

"I also need the six, Altair."

"I don't have a six."

Altair felt squeaky with his city-quick accent, but Aloysius just smiled, and looked at his hand again, to say,

"Very clever, Altair. I guess I shall have to draw. Here, fish."

"Aloysius? Altair?"

A tiny girl who held herself like a gunslinger stepped up to them. She looked into each of their faces, though Altair had never met her before, with a sharp curiosity that mismatched her wide-eyed cuteness. After noticing what game they were playing, and raising her eyebrows, she said,

"The vice principle wants you for a meeting with Coach Falcord. Valdemar, I think you will probably be wanted in about ten minutes for the same." She then looked at Orion with a very different manner--not friendlier--and her voice deepened, "Orion, I will take those scissors now."

Orion slouched away, avoiding her eye, and put his hand to each of his pants pockets before reaching up and into his collar. He drew out a very small pair of nail-scissors, but then frowned.

"I'll take those, too."

He was almost threatening her by looking her in the eye, though he gave her the nail-scissors, and then brought a pair of class scissors out from the folds of his rolled sleeves. She put out her hand again to take them, then wheeled away and walked a few steps. She stopped suddenly, turning with crackling bright eyes, to say,

"Your hair does look better."

Then she walked back through the hall and turned to go down the stairs, while Orion rolled his eyes, trying to compensate. Having a girl barely taller than himself (sitting down) confiscate two pairs of scissors no one else realized he'd stolen was too humiliating, Altair thought, and all the other guys had been avidly watching. If it was a power that made her so confident with Orion, or if she really just wasn't scared, it still wasn't nice of her to leave them with a ticked off bully to avoid for the rest of their game. Altair couldn't think of anything soothing to say, so he kept his head down. Again.

"What were you doing with those?" Aloysius asked.

Orion carried around disposable razor heads, rolled in his socks. They said Roxy Llewellyn could say why, but wouldn't. Aloy probably figured there was a connection with the scissors.

"Nothing much. Just performing surgery on overly curious peoples' anatomies. Take your turn, Valdemar, or I'll rearrange your facial structure."

Some days these games teetered on the edge of a brawl, and while Altair wasn't afraid to fight (he'd gotten a lot out of the Judo classes last year) things got ugly with the odd psych reacting to feints like lightning, and fire erupting from random objects. Who wanted to be in the crossfire of that? No one. Compass Heights was equipped with a sprinkler system that could have been mistaken for an apartment complex's entire plumbing.

So who was that girl, and why did she like to play with dynamite?

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[gjules.livejournal.com]

Hey, welcome back! Very good to see you 'round these parts again.