07-20-2008, 02:12 AM
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Next door to the large building that was the college dormitory, Hanna sat on what had once been a rolling desk chair, her nose in a book, feet propped up on the desk in front of her. The chair no longer rolled properly because of the rust that marred the silver metal, but that was alright at the moment, because she wanted a stationary chair for her studies.
The book that was being carefully held, a finger occasionally smoothing a page, concerned different methods of medical work that, at the time of writing, were controversial and highly unsuccessful. But, judging from the large container of equipment closed behind glass there in the medical lecture hall (where she was seated as the professor, no less), the methods had been improved upon to the point of being commonplace. The femme's mismatched eyes skimmed across the page, taking in the words, then going back to look at the words that didn't make much sense to her.
Just as her eyes had returned to a place where a word was shaky, a sound was caught in her keen ears and made her sit upright, feet upon the floor. It had come from the building next door. The female rose from her seat to investigate, leaving the book on the desk, covered with the laminate that had bound it. She walked out the door to the lecture building, crossed the remaining half a dozen feet, and entered the dorm house by a side door. A louder noise nearby caused her head to swivel and her hands to drop to her knives. Stepping out into the light, she turned a large circle and then pressed to the wall. A scent was prevalent, but it wasn't directly familiar to her. "Who's there?" she called, then stood with the knives partially out of their sheathes, prepared to draw and slice if need be.
Next door to the large building that was the college dormitory, Hanna sat on what had once been a rolling desk chair, her nose in a book, feet propped up on the desk in front of her. The chair no longer rolled properly because of the rust that marred the silver metal, but that was alright at the moment, because she wanted a stationary chair for her studies.
The book that was being carefully held, a finger occasionally smoothing a page, concerned different methods of medical work that, at the time of writing, were controversial and highly unsuccessful. But, judging from the large container of equipment closed behind glass there in the medical lecture hall (where she was seated as the professor, no less), the methods had been improved upon to the point of being commonplace. The femme's mismatched eyes skimmed across the page, taking in the words, then going back to look at the words that didn't make much sense to her.
Just as her eyes had returned to a place where a word was shaky, a sound was caught in her keen ears and made her sit upright, feet upon the floor. It had come from the building next door. The female rose from her seat to investigate, leaving the book on the desk, covered with the laminate that had bound it. She walked out the door to the lecture building, crossed the remaining half a dozen feet, and entered the dorm house by a side door. A louder noise nearby caused her head to swivel and her hands to drop to her knives. Stepping out into the light, she turned a large circle and then pressed to the wall. A scent was prevalent, but it wasn't directly familiar to her. "Who's there?" she called, then stood with the knives partially out of their sheathes, prepared to draw and slice if need be.
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