notcalledlizzie: (Default)
notcalledlizzie ([personal profile] notcalledlizzie) wrote2005-10-21 11:46 pm

Room 239/240

Elizabeth is lying, curled up on her bed with a stuffed bear.

A small, neatly wrapped box is sitting on the bedside table.

She's trying to read; the same book she's been reading ever since she was in the library after Speech class.

Her mind keeps flashing back to the trip she made to Mali and the Ivory Coast. She can hardly believe how young and naive she had been. How back then she thought that she could help change the world.

She seems to reread the same paragraph over and over again

"A tumble? Oh, yes - out of the swing," said Katy, as it all came slowly back to her. "Did the rope break, Aunt Izzie? I can't remember about it."


She always reached for books from her childhood whenever she felt down.

[identity profile] notcalledlizzie.livejournal.com 2005-10-22 12:07 am (UTC)(link)
Not so well, I'm afraid. Bury your head in the sand, and it'll come back to bite you in the ass.

*leans down and pets him*

Lesson learnt from this... stay clear of her unless absolutely necessary.

[identity profile] cameronmitchell.livejournal.com 2005-10-22 12:11 am (UTC)(link)
*annoyed* She's a teacher, she's supposed to make us feel safe with it. Instead she's mindfrelled with Crichton and me, and now with Vala and the rest of the entire psych class. Who the hell is allowing her to keep her position? Students should not be scared to go to class.

[identity profile] notcalledlizzie.livejournal.com 2005-10-22 12:12 am (UTC)(link)
*pets him soothingly*

I know, hon, believe me, I know. But look around this place. You can't say the teachers are normal here

[identity profile] cameronmitchell.livejournal.com 2005-10-22 12:13 am (UTC)(link)
No. *groans and looks up at her*

You wanna read to me?

[identity profile] notcalledlizzie.livejournal.com 2005-10-22 12:15 am (UTC)(link)
[ooc: Moved to here