Here Hold These (George)
Apr 13, 2014 6:19:19 GMT -5
Post by Georgina Speer on Apr 13, 2014 6:19:19 GMT -5
George mocked offense - walruses were weird waddling welliphant wammal werple wep wop whoop wup... she needed a hobby.
People like Oriel were cool. Cool people. Yeah. The people who weren't all like, "Oh, you can't say that, it might be extremely ever so slightly offensive to someone somewhere in the world," or, "You can't do that even though it looks like fun and isn't illegal or anything,", those people were boring as it got. But if you were willing to just... not care less, George was happy. Besides, what was the point in being fake? If you weren't afraid to act like you would, then you would be the happiest possible, because you're not worrying about image, and all the people around you are there because they really like you, and not some fictional character you conjured up yourself to be.
That got deeply philosophical. Maybe George could be a philosopher... but then again, someone threw one of those questions at her once - it was like, 'You're standing on a bridge with your heavy friend and there's a runaway train about to pass under. If you don't stop the train, the 10 people on it will die. So, what do you do?' Some people would say throw their friend in front of the train, some people would say throw themselves in front of the train, some said they would do nothing. George, however, she said she would be the one driving the train, eating popcorn and laughing at her own imminent demise... maybe philosophy was a bad idea. Mental asylum, on the other hand...
The hat girl tilted her head and looked curiously at Oriel. She was trying to work out he meant the kind of talking where they conversed, or the kind of talking where he punched Kodi in the face. Seemed like the former.
He feels bad? George scoffed, fat chance. The promise of an apology was... minorly warming. But she didn't want to see him again. Ever. So the usually mentally rambling girl was stuck for words, it was a rare sight. "I..." she began, and then stopped herself. If she didn't have anything good to say... "'Kay."
And then the British girl put two and two together, "Are... you and him... friends?" Wasn't the best formed sentence, but oh well. She was interested - of course, she didn't actually know the dentokinetic very well, but he didn't seem the type to be friendly... ever. She wondered if he even understood the words 'caring', 'considerate', or even 'nice'. Probably not. Then again, her view on him was rather... twisted.
People like Oriel were cool. Cool people. Yeah. The people who weren't all like, "Oh, you can't say that, it might be extremely ever so slightly offensive to someone somewhere in the world," or, "You can't do that even though it looks like fun and isn't illegal or anything,", those people were boring as it got. But if you were willing to just... not care less, George was happy. Besides, what was the point in being fake? If you weren't afraid to act like you would, then you would be the happiest possible, because you're not worrying about image, and all the people around you are there because they really like you, and not some fictional character you conjured up yourself to be.
That got deeply philosophical. Maybe George could be a philosopher... but then again, someone threw one of those questions at her once - it was like, 'You're standing on a bridge with your heavy friend and there's a runaway train about to pass under. If you don't stop the train, the 10 people on it will die. So, what do you do?' Some people would say throw their friend in front of the train, some people would say throw themselves in front of the train, some said they would do nothing. George, however, she said she would be the one driving the train, eating popcorn and laughing at her own imminent demise... maybe philosophy was a bad idea. Mental asylum, on the other hand...
The hat girl tilted her head and looked curiously at Oriel. She was trying to work out he meant the kind of talking where they conversed, or the kind of talking where he punched Kodi in the face. Seemed like the former.
He feels bad? George scoffed, fat chance. The promise of an apology was... minorly warming. But she didn't want to see him again. Ever. So the usually mentally rambling girl was stuck for words, it was a rare sight. "I..." she began, and then stopped herself. If she didn't have anything good to say... "'Kay."
And then the British girl put two and two together, "Are... you and him... friends?" Wasn't the best formed sentence, but oh well. She was interested - of course, she didn't actually know the dentokinetic very well, but he didn't seem the type to be friendly... ever. She wondered if he even understood the words 'caring', 'considerate', or even 'nice'. Probably not. Then again, her view on him was rather... twisted.