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[halfblaked]

ᚫ Hello, you've reached Professor Blake. I'm likely in lecture right now, but you may leave a message. ᚫ

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[queenofseers]

[ Lucky for Cassandra, the anger's coming in waves. As she comprehends more and more a new flash of rage hits her, and as the folders load in she starts tearing around the room. When this is over? He's going to know that she knows who he is. Maybe not at this moment, but soon. Who cares if he tries to slink back in here and finds it trashed? He deserves it. He deserves so much worse.

She starts with the desk, pulling papers out, and when she's done with that she goes toward the bookshelf. Fuck these books. Fuck how fucking obvious his choices are, now, fuck how he hid it in plain sight like he was bragging.

When she starts pulling books out, it's as much looking for another sign as it is an excuse to ruin something. Anything. ]

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[halfblaked]

[ The thing is: he was bragging. Every moment that David tapped his false finger against a surface, every small, gesture and comment was a subtle dig at her. If she remembers back far enough, she can start to realize that David has been pretending, and rubbing it in all at once, every time they talked. He loved it, but it was also deeply personal, the things that he told her.

In his books, when they fell open, were notes, annotations, rogue pages filled with more diagrams, notes -- rough sketches of designs for the new pantheon, some notated and marked, notes on the sides.

The Prose Edda -- marked up -- page after page, heavy black lines over parts -- the Gylfaginning open, black lines, over an entire chapter. What could he have felt was so important to remove from a very expensive, very old translation of an obscure myth? ]

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[queenofseers]

[ It's been a long time since she'd read Prose Edda- it's the kind of thing that's buried in memories of grad school all-nighters. But she has a faint memory of what this part was about. An origin story. The basic set-up of the world.

He can buy his own version if he wants to take shitty notes so bad. She opens the window to her godly storage space and throws it in, and then adds his more specific notes on these new "gods"; she suspects she's going to have a hell of a time figuring this out, later. She's starting to get tense in this room, both wanting to move around and wanting to do something grander than this. She takes out her flash drive once all the information is done loading, throwing it in with the rest.

Part of her wonders if any of his colleagues are going to notice her leave, then come in and see the mess she's made. Yet another way this day could get shittier. But they wouldn't understand this. They wouldn't understand anything. So few people do. Maybe no one.

Fuck him. Fuck.

Glancing around, not even bothering to cover her tracks, she turns to leave. She wants him to know she's caught him. ]