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sabinetzinTitle: Shalott
Summary: A second character sketch
Fandom: Amaranth (?)
Word Count: 251
Rating/Warnings: PG
Pairing: N/A
A/N: This is by no means done, but I'm having computer issues and need it where I can get to it. It'll likely be revised soon.
Her father had started this place, or rather, kept it running. After knowledge had been divvied up and sold off, they’d come to smoke him out. Her mother used to tell her that the smoke got caught in her eyes.
He had books- real, unlicensed, paper books. The books were all they had. A book told them how to hunt, another how to cook, another how to make electricity.
Their home had been a university, once, back when there were such things. Hundreds of thousands of students had flocked there, once upon a time, but that seemed like a fairy tale now. Now they were no more than twenty or thirty.
Her father told her stories of being hunted, tracked down by the corporations that thought they’d owned the information he’d stolen. A long scar on his leg told her it was true. But now, seeing that their intentions didn’t have anything to do with money, they left the Book People alone, writing them off as a curious anachronism.
It was Shalott that had named them, after naming herself. Names dragged from dusty crumbling books, books she’d read so many times that she didn’t even need them anymore.
She wasn’t sure that she agreed with her father. She wasn’t even sure that she understood. But she was sure that her place was here. When he was gone, which wouldn’t be long now, this place would be hers, these people would be hers, and she would lead them, for better or worse.
Summary: A second character sketch
Fandom: Amaranth (?)
Word Count: 251
Rating/Warnings: PG
Pairing: N/A
A/N: This is by no means done, but I'm having computer issues and need it where I can get to it. It'll likely be revised soon.
Her father had started this place, or rather, kept it running. After knowledge had been divvied up and sold off, they’d come to smoke him out. Her mother used to tell her that the smoke got caught in her eyes.
He had books- real, unlicensed, paper books. The books were all they had. A book told them how to hunt, another how to cook, another how to make electricity.
Their home had been a university, once, back when there were such things. Hundreds of thousands of students had flocked there, once upon a time, but that seemed like a fairy tale now. Now they were no more than twenty or thirty.
Her father told her stories of being hunted, tracked down by the corporations that thought they’d owned the information he’d stolen. A long scar on his leg told her it was true. But now, seeing that their intentions didn’t have anything to do with money, they left the Book People alone, writing them off as a curious anachronism.
It was Shalott that had named them, after naming herself. Names dragged from dusty crumbling books, books she’d read so many times that she didn’t even need them anymore.
She wasn’t sure that she agreed with her father. She wasn’t even sure that she understood. But she was sure that her place was here. When he was gone, which wouldn’t be long now, this place would be hers, these people would be hers, and she would lead them, for better or worse.