Alice Whitlock Cullen (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
betagainstme) wrote2009-02-22 11:54 pm
betagainstme) wrote2009-02-22 11:54 pm
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Alice dances from one room to another, a wide grin on her face. The door to Milliways has barely swung closed and she's in the study, fingers tracing over books as she looks for her own, the collection of Jane Austen books that sit on her shelf, weathered and old. She's had the same copies for years (she's had the same copies of any book she owns for years...she'll buy new ones when they're completely destroyed).
She pulls Emma off the shelf and breathes in its old book smell, a helpless smile on her face. Today she has met her favourite author, the one that told life as it was, showed her strong women, the one that she clung to as she started her new life alone.
Alice lays on the rug, her skirt rustling as she holds the book high over her head and starts to read, her lips moving with every word her brain processes. She's utterly in love with these words, once again.
She pulls Emma off the shelf and breathes in its old book smell, a helpless smile on her face. Today she has met her favourite author, the one that told life as it was, showed her strong women, the one that she clung to as she started her new life alone.
Alice lays on the rug, her skirt rustling as she holds the book high over her head and starts to read, her lips moving with every word her brain processes. She's utterly in love with these words, once again.