Thus Spoke Zarathustra (Andreas)

[Ashley Engel]

She had a copy of The Gay Science at home, but why she hadn't brought it with her she didn't know. Ashley was still kicking herself over the fact as she navigated to one of the standard old computers in the library. Looking up the listing didn't take more than a minute, and finding the book itself was fairly easy. Getting to it, however, was the fun part. In which case fun meant frustrating and agonizing.

This time around (she checked) there was no notably tall stranger within easy reach that struck her as particularly approachable. Of all the times to be thinking about Greg Mackenzie, it had to be right then while she stretched out all her muscles in attempts to scrape fingertips on the spine of the old book. Both the random reminder of a boy she owed confections to, and the painful proof she hadn't grown an inch in months, served to make her sigh heavily when she eased back down off her toes.

Ashley was doing better and worse. Getting out more, just barely, but with a worse attitude than she had initially carried upon coming to Hammel. All her optimism and determination to better herself had faded into a sense of bitter frustration. Everything was a mess, and any instant where it came to mind she became an unpleasant amalgamation of frustration and apathy.

So maybe it was a little ironic she was seeking out Nietzsche's writing of all things. But the only cure that came to mind every time she was alone and wrapped up in herself (which was often) was the distinct feel of returning to the one book she'd probably read the most times over in her life. Nostalgia and a sense of comfort were rather literally out of reach, though. Arguably, she could have found someone to help. Could have asked a student, staff. If she was really that determined she could have outright climbed up the shelves or sought out a particularly long stick. But it wasn't a good day for braving social waters or doing something attention-grabbing. She didn't have the energy to really seek out another obnoxious no one from the background to assist her. Her patience for tedious conversations and false geniality was at an all time low. And no one was going to help her if she acted naturally about it, she knew.

A return trip was made to the computer. Brief searching, seeking out what on Nietzsche could possibly be in arm's reach. There was multitasking, quiet and quick. A text to home sent in one hand while she typed slowly with the other. Her own copy would need to be mailed out, there was no way around that. In the meantime, she settled for reviewing the placements on the computer for his other works. Ultimately, both Thus Spoke Zarathustra and Beyond Good and Evil were within her reach on the shelves. They weren't what she wanted, but compromise seemed to be a large part of her life after moving out to attend school. So while it wasn't exactly a surrender, she felt like she was giving up when she sought out the most secluded corner of the room and took up residence in one of the larger chairs. Both the books were set aside carefully while she settled in, putting her messenger bag aside and folding both legs up under herself. It didn't take more than a few minutes before she was immersed, several pages into the familiarly challenging (if not overly opinionated) thinking of Beyond Good and Evil.

[Andreas Ivaring]

Andreas felt as though he knew the entire collection of the library, like it was the back of his hand. Every tome, no matter how recondite or well-known. Even those 'pop books' that many loved to obsess over, be it Harry Potter or Twilight. He was used to having a certain section locked down, though. Every time, no matter how misplaced or uncharacteristic the person seemed, when one particular bookshelf was shuffled, when one item was missing, he was absolutely all over it.

It may have seemed rather... Creepy. He had a book perched in his lap, as well. His eyes would occasionally glance at the person who seemed to completely pass him by. Usually by reading one's aura, he could place many pieces together. He closed his book, the title? It was irrelevant. There was an opportunity here, for he didn't see the general frustration that generally came from being assigned Nietzsche in some sort of senior assignment. Oh, no. He saw some sort of... familiarity, maybe a comfort, if that was a way of wording it. He stopped examining the older woman. His chin placed firmly in the web of his thumb and his finger, he contemplated just what he could do.

If this was indeed someone relatable -- and she did seem to be, with her general attitude -- he didn't want to blow it. He was already at at incredible disadvantage. His body, his 'mostly-through-puberty' voice. If one wasn't sure of who he was or what reputation he carried, he'd seem like somebody who was trying way too hard. It was a sort of treatment he'd come to accept. It was that sort of treatment, along with the relatively recent move to Hammel that left him uprooted and bitter.

"Quiet day." He called out, to start things off, break the ice. Unlike some, he carried himself with a confidence, never stopping or correcting himself. He was confident in his conversation, and this was a field he could absolutely /kill/.

"I've gotta say, you're already leagues ahead of everyone else bumbling around those halls. Beyond Good and Evil is a good read. On the Genealogy of Morality is my favorite work of Nietzsche, however."

He always loved how... powerful his words were, reading them, listening to them. They all had impact and were almost all thought-provoking. With Nietzsche, did he think critically of the world around him, the political structure, the structure of life. Edgy, 'euphoric', he didn't care what was ascribed to him for his appreciations. That usually just told him they didn't understand, that their minds were so microscopic. This was the chance of a lifetime.

His expression, his body language suddenly shifted. It started off conversational, open, friendly. But now, it was critical. He was now the experimental surgeon, picking apart her words, her expressions. If there were any to be had, that is. He had high expectations, a high bar. And all that could be attributed to was the pile of utter shit and wasted minds that sat below it.

[Ashley Engel]

Consideration for conversation. That was unusual.
Not so much the situation of someone thinking about talking to her, that happened at least somewhat. Not often, but not rare. It was the way he went about it. The strings she could overhear softly, murmurs in the background. In the library everyone seemed to think softly, especially given the distance Ash made sure to seek out from people. But the boy closest, the one considering engagement, he was quiet even given proximity. Which was an indication of careful thinking, calm thoughts.

Ash didn't look up at first.
She turned a page, despite the clearly audible and arguably harmless greeting. It wasn't until more words came that she really paused. The way she drug her eyes up from her book was slow, but precise. Taking in details from the bottom up before her gaze settled on the boy's face. Which outwardly probably seemed somewhat confrontational in the dull, half-irritated nature of it alone. But Ash was bothering to really look at the stranger. Take the details of him in. She was interested, if only mildly at first.

Her expression was flat, neutral. The typical look of disinterest that rested over her features. Gradually, there was a twitch. Eyes narrowed slightly, her brows knitting together for barely a moment. She looked wary, not so much suspicious of the conversation or the age of her newfound company. Mostly it was just the whole atmosphere. Someone carefully choosing how to approach her, starting a topic over Nietzsche of all things.. It wasn't particularly outstanding, she had one of his books right there in her lap. But to speak so easily of his other work, what most considered his best, was strange.

Ashley gave it a long moment before she said anything.
She just stared at first, seeming to really contemplate if the conversation was worth having at all. Her mind was clicking over, churning. Caught up between the instantaneous urge to ramble on about books she liked and the more subtle apprehension that came with interacting with another human being. When she did finally part lips and speak it was quiet, measured. Her hands moved with the words to shut the book without marking her page and lay both hands on top of it. The way she brushed fingertips over the title on the cover was a typical loving movement for someone deeply involved with books.

"It is." She agreed softly at first, nodding somewhat.
"I find the polemic in both of them to be frustrating at times, though."
Briefly she glanced down at the book, sighing. There were as many things she adored about Nietzsche as there were others she really couldn't stand. He was, unsurprisingly, an incredibly opinionated man. And maybe it was hypocritical for her of all people to find that trait aggravating. But there was likely psychology to note on that, which she missed entirely.

"Personally I favor The Gay Science. The poems and songs therein paint him in a more human light than the essay style in On the Genealogy of Morality."
When Ashley blinked it was slow, cat-like. She wasn't quite polished at conversation yet. So while she was curious, choosing to look at Andreas rather than the book in her hands, she didn't say anything more. He'd raised a topic, she had replied. Furthering it on her end was a skill she had yet to pick up and work with to any strong degree. Especially not when her focus was far from observing careful social cues and instead on the strangeness of the person in front of her. She didn't find him odd because of his obvious youth against the topic. If anything, all the oddness she felt was purely from the fact someone -anyone at all- was talking to her about Friedrich Nietzsche.

[Andreas Ivaring]

He blinked. He didn't want to seem condescending any more, but this was like finding the needle in the haystack of this hellhole. The needle made out of valuable diamond. This mysterious woman, she utilized words in a manner that didn't seem like she regularly abused a thesaurus, but instead had an interest, a reverence for the language she spoke. English class was one of his favorites, and if it was for her as well, Andreas definitely wouldn't be surprised.

"See, that perspective is interesting." He replied, instantly immersed, sucked entirely in to the conversation. He'd been dying to speak about Nietzsche to somebody other than a teacher who would quickly tire, due to the piles of assignments to grade. He valued that opinion, and instead of beating it in the ground, instead of denouncing it or laughing at it, he just shared his own. It was an unusual good side of Andreas that this person was experiencing through no effort of her own.

"The polemic, and the essay format is exactly the sort of thing I appreciate in his works. I've yet to actually read The Gay Science, but I could imagine there's a pretty big value in not appearing so robotic. I couldn't find a copy of it in here, but if I can scrap together some money, that'll be the first thing on my list." It'd certainly be nice to add some more to his already-growing book collection taking up the portion of his nightstand and dresser.

Andreas had a lot more to say about Nietzsche, like how he skewed his political views ever-so-slightly, how he'd been engrossed in every tome with his name branded on it. He wasn't one to flush someone away with standard conversation, though. Diatribe? Perhaps. But whoever this was, it wasn't even up for consideration. Lest he chase away the only other student worth a damn so far.

The only other person he could think of off the top of his head was Dr. Neville, and while he had some sort of respect for the man's mind, there was always that tone. That tone of a leering supervisor, always suspicious of you. He didn't like to always be spoken to as if he were about to commit a murder. This soft-spoken dialect? He welcomed it with open arms as well.

"I don't know, for all of the federal money this school gets in their grants, you think they could expand the library a bit beyond Meyer and Rowling."

[Ashley Engel]

Ashley didn't register any part of Andreas as condescending or rude. He wasn't even annoying. Which, by her standard, was a fairly impressive accomplishment. Even his thoughts were so neatly on point with what he said she could almost ignore them entirely. It was a nice sort of quiet. Not the same withdrawn silence that came with people like Sean Neville or Cain. There was still noise, but it was an incredibly manageable murmuring. Because of that, and the fact the boy in front of her was clearly well-read, she eased into her chair better.

People were so often background pieces. Boring, useless.
She wasn't sure what exactly it took for anyone to stand out to her. But she knew when people had it. And, for at least those moments, the stranger in front of her was painted in color. Interesting. Rare.

"Yes, well, they likely stock what they think people will come to read. I think I found a copy of The Gay Science earlier, but.." Her eyes drifted.
Off to the rows of shelves. The unreachable peeks. There was a small pause before Ashley cleared her through slightly and shifted. She didn't bother finishing the sentence, the ending implied enough distaste that she didn't feel the need for an elaboration that would undoubtedly bruise her pride.

"I'm having my own mailed in from home. When it arrives, you're welcome to borrow it."
It wasn't being social. She didn't see it that way. Rather, it was a book thing. She had a nice copy, not dog-eared or scratched. The spine wasn't even cracked. It was worn, loved. The pages weren't stiff and they didn't smell like fresh printing anymore. But it was still an excellent condition. She offered it only under the impulse of knowledge being shared. At least that was how she rationalized the whole moment in the back of her mind.
"It has the full appendix of his songs included, though the translation does leave a bit to be desired at times. Actually-"

She moved to sit up straighter, pulling her legs out from under herself to make it easier. It was somewhat hard to tell, if only given that excitement on anyone else would be louder. More lively. But Ashley was animated, alert and keenly in tune with the situation. She spoke evenly, quietly, but there was a certain tone about her. Subtle signs of interest that only properly showed when compared to her usual disinterest in other people and things. She didn't go to lengths to maintain eye contact with Andreas, it came naturally.
"I have a notebook at home analyzing the original work in german and the translated copy of the book. I could have it brought in if you're the type to care about that sort of thing."

It occurred to her only in that moment she really didn't know him at all.
Which sounded mundane, but for her it was profound. Not because she didn't know someone, but because she realized she didn't know him. She wanted to know more about the stranger. An inconsequential event to anyone else. But for her in that moment, it struck hard. She stared at the boy, looking mildly surprised by something, before pulling up every bit of etiquette she could remember. Less than smoothly but (for once) with honestly pleasant intention, she offered her hand out to him.
"I'm Ashley. But Ash is preferable."

[Andreas Ivaring]

The offer for the book flattered him, honestly. But it revealed to him a sort of surprise, an unexpected joy fluttering in her. What this led Andreas' mind to conclude was that she indeed gave up on seeking out some sort of enthusiast, secluding herself just as he had. There was something on a deeper level, a stronger connection of common traits that Andreas simply did not expect. He actually smiled, for the first time since he got here -- the first time it wasn't at the expense of someone else. Absolutely, he'd borrow it.

"I really appreciate that, Ash." He finally replied, taking her hand and giving it a firm, poised shake.

"I'm Andreas. It's nice to meet you -- hell, it's nice to meet somebody with more than a couple of brain cells to rub together." Never stumbling back, he only realized in his head that it could have seemed diminishing, that remark. But another impression he got was that she was fortuitous. If nothing could make her mad, that just enhanced the level of respect he felt. Well, he got past the first hump, being the initial meet and greet. And Ash? She passed.

"I still wish I had that collection from back home. The local library in my practically skidrow neighborhood actually had a pretty esoteric collection. It was the sort of dusty crevasse where you could read up on ancient Sumerian mythology, if you so desired. Almost makes me wonder how many late fees I have now that I'm here."

Chuckling, he slipped a bookmark, a torn paper slit, in to the spine of the tome. Shutting it and putting it aside; he possessed the interest to give her his undivided attention. She had to have a lot to say. And now, he was going to pass the small talk off to her. Truth told, he wasn't too great at it in an amicable environment, but it was so unlike him to just submit and let someone else begin the conversation. A fault.

Yet he knew when to stop, when not to get too dominant or annoying. Now was such a time.

[Ashley Engel]

She laughed.
Her, of all people. It was subtle. Not so much a boom of noise or anything outstanding. Just a soft, delicate kind of noise. The way people laughed at upscale parties, measured and reserved. Still, it was more than she'd done with just about anyone at the school since attending. Small progress was still progress.

Maybe no one else would find humor in remarks of brain cells and late fees. But she did. Enough to actually smile slightly at it, nodding just slightly. There wasn't a library in her home town, but she'd seen ones before in the city. Never went, but she understood the premise of checking books out and overdue charges. Definitely, she could understand the idea of borrowing something like a book for long enough to be charged for it. Even ones she'd read a dozen times over she refused to sell or donate. So the idea of having to return one inevitably? She didn't think she'd be able to handle it. The fact Andreas did, and seemingly regularly? It was impressive in a way. Mostly, it added to the building sense of curiosity in Ash.

And for once, it wasn't easy to pick someone apart.
Even with contact, skin to skin in the handshake, she didn't come back with anything that ruined the appeal of the boy. Other people were usually cut and dry to her. Caught up in romance, friend drama, typical concerns for their age. She categorized it all blandly, though. All she needed was a trait or two from someone to feel bored with them as a whole. It was generalization. Antisocial behavior. And her telepathy only drove that part of her all the more. A thought or two, an overheard idea or concern, and she was ready to write someone off entirely. But Andreas? Neat thoughts. Quiet thoughts. And not ones overloaded with sex or petty stressors. Ash liked that a great deal. Not just for the quiet, but for having something -someone- that wasn't just black and white.

"I wish I had my books from home as well." She sighed and it was almost melancholic. At least in sound. The exact emotion didn't really settle in. She was too caught up in a subtle, calm sense of joy over the entire situation at hand.
"If I had any real complaint about this place it would definitely be the trouble involved in bringing things in. Not to say the dorms are small, but I really don't think I could organize a good personal selection in the space. Not to mention carting suitcases full of books around would be a real pain."

Sure, she could get someone to carry it for her. She could probably even get her grandfather to hire someone to put up bookcases and organize everything per her instruction. But that entire ordeal wasn't much to her taste in how to handle things. Not to mention even if all that trouble was gone through, it still wouldn't even be a sizable fraction of all the books she had at home. When one spent more time with paper than people, hoarding started to become a real concern. Ash didn't think she had a book problem. But that was sort of the nature of the beast.

"Well, that and the fact that finding somewhere quiet to relax is often impossible. I don't think this campus was designed with the introverted in mind at all."