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Post by cassandra n. dostoevsky on Aug 18, 2012 3:15:53 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,10,true][atrb=style, background-color: #fff; width: 505px; border-top: 10px #95D9DE solid, bTable] ☼ sunshine
YOU CAN BE MY Cassandra was walking down the halls of her studio, eyes looking around as she turned off the lights on her way. Today was supposed to be a day for her to relax and have a nice day doing absolutely nothing important. Today was one of those rare moments in life when she feels like she can forget about dancing, forget about med school; her parents, her homework, work. It was just her and a world of happiness around her. A smile came to grace her lips while she took the car keys from her bag and headed out the door. With a twirl she turned once she had stepped outside of the studio, locking the place and stepping back. "Well, see you on Monday" she responded with a smirk on her lips, twirling around once more to skip over to the car. Yes, she was happy, happy to be able to have this day that she had been planning for the last month or so. It took a while for her to be able to have some time for herself, between work and school, specially med school, and now with having to go to the clinic it was exhausting and she was amazed that she hadn't already cracked under the pressure. One thing was for certain, she had to thank her father for building her character.
Her feet moved one after the other in a graceful manner, years of dancing had sort of caused to do it without thinking twice on it. As she opened the car door, her eyes glanced around, her hand instantly throwing her bag to the passenger seat before she stepped inside. If there was something Cassandra loved was her jeep, it might sound materialistic but she did. Her hand slipped the key in the ignition before turning it, with one quick movement of her feet and hands she pulled out of the driveway and off she went. Driving will calm her down, and then after that she will make sure to just enjoy her time. A song began to play and she smiled, quickly following with the words "I don't know you, but I want you, all the more for that..." she tapped her fingers on the wheel while she moved to look around the street, she needed to find a place to be, a good place to be. Suddenly her eyes lip up when she found the right spot. That was where she needed to go, the book store; she needed to get a nice book and that was exactly what she was going to do. A nice book, maybe a cup of tea or perhaps a nice cup of coffee to go along with it. Oh it sounded magnificent, she couldn't say no to that and so her hands began to maneuver over to an empty spot to drop the car. Yes, reading was a perfectly nice way to relax and so that was what she will intent to do now. Hopefully the store or the coffee shop weren't going to be too crowded, while she didn't mind to be around people she wanted to keep herself away from big crowds.
With a small smile on her lips she walked down the parking lot, taking the last couple of steps over to the doors of the large mall, her hand reached out and she pushed the door open. It was then that she felt the sudden change in temperature, a smile covering her lips while her skin cooled off; her feet slowly guiding her into large shopping mall. Now all she needed to do was head over to the book warehouse which was actually not that far away thankfully because she was so not in the mood to actually walk all around the mall. It took her a few seconds but she finally came to book warehouse and she pushed the door open. The scent of air freshener combined with old books and a little bit of perfume mixed in her nose and she had to walk a bit away from the entrance because that was where the smelled seemed to be concentrated. Her phone went off and she quickly moved to read the text, it was one of her friends, who wanted to meet up for lunch and she bit down her lower lip. Hey, I am sorry I can't make it today, I'll see you another day, sorry. She wasn't looking to ditch her friends but she just wasn't in the mood to hear all their questions about topics that shouldn't be dealt with today. So this was better than her getting upset at it if she agreed to seeing them.
Cassandra began to look around the books, letting her fingertips move over them in a soft way while she tried to actually pick one that looked nice or one that she knew was good enough. A small sigh escaped her lips because it seemed like she was never going to be able to find anything at all. What kind of pathetic day was this going to be if the only thing she had planned suddenly got ruined due to lack of good books. "Why is it so difficult to find something decent" she murmured while she moved around a table now, books scattered all over it. She could only see those dumb books that teenagers seemed to love now a days. Seriously, a vampire watching a girl sleep? How is that not rapey? She shook her head and then moved to keep looking around, she had to find something good here or there. Finally her eyes caught something that catch-ed her attention, something that she could see herself reading today if not tomorrow or any day in the future. Her feet walked a little until she was finally able to reach the spot to grab the book. Someone else was standing there, next to her but she payed little attention to that as she took the book in question and lift it, only to find another hand holding onto it; another hand that wasn't hers. Cassandra followed the hand to the arm the art to neck and finally the face. When she finally saw the face of the person standing next to her, the person who had reached for the same book as her she smiled a little. She had no clue if she had grabbed it first or not, which made her wonder if she ought to try and keep it. "Sorry...I didn't....i didn't saw that you had already grabbed it" she said with a shake of her head and a soft shrug, although it was more out of being nervous than her not caring. Cass slowly let go of the book and rested her hand down against the table. "Good taste though, it's a great book" she added, sure she had already read it, but because someone had borrowed it to her. So she now wanted to have it. But apparently that wasn't happening. Cassandra looked over at the tall man beside her; having to tilt her head a little to be able to look at him properly. A soft smile came to her lips, at least someone else in the word liked good literature.
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Post by IAN MARK MCDONALD on Aug 18, 2012 12:04:08 GMT -5
[STYLE=background-color: #ECECEC; -moz-border-radius: 1em; -webkit-border-radius: 1em; border-top: 5px #753BC0 solid; border-bottom: 5px #753BC0 solid; padding: 10px; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; color: #484848; margin-top: -6px; width: 300px; text-align: justify;] "Let me confess that we two must be twain, in our two loves there is but one respect, though in our lives a separable spite, thou with public kindness do not honour me," Ian said as he released the book he had reached for. She had clearly gotten to it first, and he was in no need of another book today. His home was piled high with books and oddities, and he was nearly positive that there was at least one copy of the very book he'd reached for somewhere. A Collection of Shakespearean Sonnets and Poems was the work's title, and many of those same pomes Ian had memorized over the years. Not on purpose, but with such a vibrant love of literature, he'd learned them over time.
Shakespeare was an especially fantastic author. His stories were timeless classics, and though he heard many people complain and express their dislike of him, he knew they were simply being blind to what lay on the pages. Ignorance prevented them from understanding the words, and truly absorbing their meaning in full. Ian was born and raised on such authors as Shakespeare, Jane Austen, and Rudyard Kipling. Those were true works of brilliance, not sappy attempts at love stories like the new hit teen novels. If you were itching for vampires, you needed to read Dracula by Bram Stoker and nothing else, because nothing could compare. Sparkling twits were hardly comparable to the might of religious angst and monsters of the night.
Ian had woken up to a very good day. He'd finally been accepted to a school, none other than Manchester Prep, and would be teaching at last. Though the sciences were second on his list of preferred subjects, he was happy to be taking them and not something like shop or computer anything. Technology went above his head, and nothing was better to him than the feel of pages and the ability to do the work yourself, not rely on any machine. He was tech savvy, of course, maybe more so than those who would be teaching those classes, but he did not like them. Children today did not appreciate the classic, simple, humble things in life. His goal was to help them realize that the world worked and still works in marvelous ways; nobody should be blind to it. It was there, and if you understood and appreciated it, much like Shakespeare, it could give you sums of priceless knowledge and joy.
After he had gotten up, Ian had gotten ready for the day. He always tried to dress professionally, even if it was still summertime. He pulled on a white shirt and a brown suit jacket over dark jeans. A little more casual because he wasn't needing to look completely done-up and didn't like to leave too heavy of an impression on anyone. He pulled on a tie, combed up his hair in its classic volume-esque style, and was out the door. He lived in a very small, less-than-wealthy part of town. His home was two long rooms, two stories, with the front and back of the house about as wide as two of his front doors. The home's first level had the kitchen and living space blended together, while upstairs was a bedroom and a little book nook with a bathroom off to the side. He enjoyed the life of a man in his tiny home, only owning a bicycle and choosing to walk everywhere. It made things so much simpler.
Ian frequented the book store at least twice a week, to read the books there in an organized fashion. At home, his nook, which had been destined for an office, was crammed floor to ceiling with the novels, short stories, poems, and anything else he'd collected over the years from birth on. He had never sorted them, so he came to the book store to read instead of creating a colossal mess in his home by trying to find what he wanted. Ian thrived in chaos, it seemed, and it was the lifestyle best suited for him. He was always tripping around in his house, bumping his head into things, but he wouldn't sell it and move for the world. It was an extension of his eclectic self, as was the book store. This was the one place where he could feel at home, comfortable and not overwhelmed by crowds. As he perused, he reached for a familiar work, but brushed the hand of another store-goer. And that was what got Ian to where he was now, reciting a poem from the book to a fellow appreciator of the best literature had to offer.
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words:: 780 tag:: cass mood:: poetic notes:: <3
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Post by cassandra n. dostoevsky on Aug 18, 2012 19:37:04 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,10,true][atrb=style, background-color: #fff; width: 505px; border-top: 10px #95D9DE solid, bTable] ☼ sunshine
YOU CAN BE MY If Cassandra was to be honest with herself and the world she would have to admit that her passion for literature had been an acquired taste rather than her wanting to have it. It was when she was little that her father had taken her under his wing, not something Cassandra liked but that happened nonetheless. It was on that very same day that Nathaniel had decided that one hour a week was designated to reading; you could find Cassandra reading the great masters of literature, one might think it would be too advanced for someone her age but then again, with having a father like Nathaniel one needed to adapt and learn how to actually understand all those subjects if one wanted to be in his good side and since she was living with the male she was bound to make it happen even when she could have rather grab a book about the human body or any science to be honest. Since that was not the case she learned to like it, now that she was older she could not see herself without enjoying a good book ever now and then. If you imagine the entire thing in your mind while reading, it opened a lot of doors for you to understand and like many other things in life. Simple as that really. In her mind at least, because she did knew her fair share of people who did not enjoyed reading, even less the books that had rich plots and entrancing characters, the ones where you could slowly discover the traits, the evolution on why or how they became that way. That was why she disliked the books many wrote these days, they lacked that depth in their stories that the old literature has.
The brown eyed female continued to stand there, a little unsure as to whether or not she ought to walk away slowly and simply let the moment slip away to maybe be told as a slightly humorist story. Not entirely a comedy but she did found it a little interesting that she did not noticed another hand upon the book; was she that distracted with her own little thoughts? Usually she was able to pay attention to her surroundings in order not to make a fool of herself in front of others; although, being perfectly honest there was no real reason to feel ashamed over this, it could easily happen to anyone. Maybe she should just walk away, taking into consideration that after apologizing there was little left to say, it wasn't like she had accidentally tripped the man, or as if she had said or done anything stupid. Yes, probably the best to back away slowly an go pick another book, this was a big bookstore after all and she was surely to find another one here or there. What seemed to caught Cassandra off guard was the lack of response on her body, already she had made up her mind on leaving, but why were her legs not obeying the order? frustrating really, when once body seems to freeze on the spot, although that usually tended to happen due to surprise or fear, in her case at least. But not now, neither of those emotions were covering her body, perhaps it was laziness, although that would be an incredibly rare thing for she was usually rather active. Odd, odd indeed and she wished she could t least know the reason behind it.
Just as her mind worked on figuring that one out, she heard the voice of the male next to her. Not at all what she would have expected to hear really, so it caused her to look back up at him, hearing the words that she already knew so well. While every word moved out of his mouth she was mentally saying it along with him. So, he knew Shakespeare, even more he actually knew he sonnet to the dot actually. Cassandra would lie if she said she wasn't surprised by the answer she got, maybe her surprise was hand in hand with her being slightly impressed but she was not about to say those words or admit it to the guy. "Unless thou take that honor from thy name, But do not so; I love thee in such sort. As, thou being mine, mine is thy good report" she glanced down at the book as she finished saying those words, as both of them had let it go and it was now once more resting on the table, inviting her to take it once more but her attention had shifted from the book to the male that had spoken. Seeing someone being able to actually come out and say a sonnet from Shakespeare, even one of the most known ones, was a little rare; even at the school she had been too which was directed to the fine arts. Cassandra moved a little, brushing her long brown hair away from her face.
Today Cass had felt the need to not tie it up, because she actually was more fond of letting it down. When Cass really wanted to make it look more presentable she would just tie it up in a nice bun or she would do a nice braid. Something more elaborated, however she was fine like this at the moment. Sure her clothes wouldn't actually scream 'casual' to most people but in Cassandra's mind, being casual didn't necessarily meant, throwing up some ripped jeans and a shirt and be like that. No, she had never been raised that way although she was known to use jeans every now and then and even so she would look casual/elegant. Old habits die hard she supposed, but this habit wasn't exactly something that would bother her at all. Although who could say there was anything bad with wanting to look nice? Besides it wasn't as if she was wearing a party dress, it was merely a black shirt with a nice beige shirt. Not even high heels, and her hair was down and somewhat natural, even her make up was put on as if to seem like she had nothing on. Why was she so suddenly demanding on how she looked? No need to do that really, it wasn't like she was trying to impress someone. "It's nice to see someone who knows Shakespeare is more than just Romeo and Juliet" she said, words effortlessly leaving her mouth. There was nothing wrong with that book, none at all, in fact she adored the entire thing but she didn't appreciated when people locked an incredible writer with just one of their creations. Cassandras' voice sounded happy, not really formal, but more relaxed like the current state of mind that she was experiencing. It might even be sprinkled with some form of joking or even playful tone even when the words were anything but a joke.
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Post by IAN MARK MCDONALD on Aug 26, 2012 15:42:14 GMT -5
[STYLE=background-color: #ECECEC; -moz-border-radius: 1em; -webkit-border-radius: 1em; border-top: 5px #753BC0 solid; border-bottom: 5px #753BC0 solid; padding: 10px; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; color: #484848; margin-top: -6px; width: 300px; text-align: justify;] When the girl replied to him, Ian was only mildly shocked. Normally, he would have expected her to mutter something or smile casually and then take the book and go. Anyone reading this sort of literature would want to be familiar with it to some degree, but not necessarily versed and confident enough to recite it was well. Her response was quite refreshing, and he almost wanted to spark up a discussion. Of course, the tiny introverted voice in his head begged against it. He honestly did not know how to respond to her, or whether or not he should. Maybe he never should have left his little home, if it meant facing well-dressed, elegant ladies all day. The least she deserved was some decent, witty reply.
And then she made her second statement, and he felt so much better. Ian had been let off the hook, for her adding a second statement allowed him a whole mountain of responses. His brain worked quickly to deduce the situation, as it normally did. He was very thoughtful about all things, and had never learned spontaneity. Every move required a plan, with everything laid out and all possible outcomes thought so that nothing surprised him, and he could be a few steps ahead of the game. Placing his hands in his pockets, he turned to face her openly, not afraid of the casual, friendly stance he posed. He did not fear the judgement of others like others did themselves, and so instead simply let himself think what they might. He was odd, he was different, and he was proud of it.
"There is so much more to words than telling stories, like Romeo and Juliet. Shakespeare understood that."
His romantic nature made Ian unique. In Shakespeare, they were not just stories. They were living embodiments in the words. His use of language and the handle of it brought them to life in ways that normal people never could. They became so full of passion, of fire and of strength. Some were good people, and some were not. But no matter who they were, they were so much more tangible than the people of flesh and blood. The words of a person could have that effect, and Ian knew it better than anyone. You could love a character more than a person, you could feel for a character like a person never could make you feel. You could learn things, and grow from experiences that never happened. And in this, there was the eternity of words, too. They could never truly die, even if they were gone, they lived on in the thoughts and the words that had built them up. And maybe Ian had found someone who felt the same way.
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words:: short. ^^" tag:: cass mood:: poetic notes:: i think we all feel that way about our characters, too. haha.
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Post by cassandra n. dostoevsky on Aug 27, 2012 13:55:01 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,10,true][atrb=style, background-color: #fff; width: 505px; border-top: 10px #95D9DE solid, bTable] ☼ sunshine
YOU CAN BE MY Cassandra was usually a very friendly person despite the fact that most people tended to think she was 'too mature' and that she needed too 'loosen up' a little because she was young and she should just live her life. Well, she was not entirely sure why they thought she needed to loosen up, if they hang with her then that meant they liked her personality after all. Just like the other day that she had gone to a club with her friend Tristan. It had been fun and really out of the ordinary but she had enjoyed it. A small sigh escaped her lips, it went unnoticed though, because it was just because she was actually quite at ease at the moment. It was always nice to find someone who shared the same interests as her, and even when this was just Shakespeare that meant a lot; who in the world could easily say a Shakespeare sonnet? Really? Or at least here in Maryland, she wasn't saying people here didn't knew about it, but she hadn't encountered one until now. She had felt the same way when she was walking the streets of New York once. Not with the same author but with another one. It had always been that way in her mind. She wasn't sure if it had been right for her to say the ending of the sonnet, but since he had started it she felt like carrying on had been the right thing to do. And the next words had just slipped out. Well, if he wanted to just walk away now and not speak to her he was in every right to do so, but she wanted to know his thoughts on the words she had said last. Did he felt the same way? Or was he merely thinking that she was wrong and that Romeo and Juliet was the best work from Shakepear? No way for her to know unless he told her so.
Analytical, that is not something one could call Cass when it came to words, sure she did thought about them before saying them, most of the time. The girl will also act decent towards you even if she dislikes you because of how she had been raised but even so she didn't thought about every single outcome that her words could cause. No, she merely reviewed them once, made sure it was what she wanted to say and then let them come out of her mouth with the right tone of voice and the right volume. It was simple in her mind. The book had been forgotten in her mind; no longer was she thinking about holding it and taking it to the cash out to be able to head somewhere else to buy a cup of coffee and read it; no, she was having a much more interesting conversation right now; or well, she was hoping that this would lead to a conversation at least. While she had been intending to be alone today, she found that the company she had found was not that bad, it was different from what she had been having lately which consisted of bratty dancers and really snobby patients at the hospital.
"Yes, indeed he did" Cassandra said with a slight nod of her head, the movement barely visible actually. "One of the few ones, actually" Cassandra believed that there were very selected writers who could actually motivate you to feel the emotions running through the pages of a book. Sure, some will be able to catch your attention and slightly spike your interest with an exciting plot; but very few could actually make you feel empathy with the characters, to get in their minds and fully understand why they are in such way. Not even with characters, but with a quote, perhaps a sonnet like the one they had said a few seconds ago. The ability to transmit the emotion, whether it be love, sorrow, desperation, friendship, or just an unknown feeling that makes your heart ache or causes a chill to run down your body. Unspoken words, with no voice giving them the perfect intonation, just pure emotions dripping from the paper into your soul. Not everyone could cause that, and certainly not everyone was able to receive it, to appreciate it "Specially today, finding a decent author is rather rare" her eyes glanced around the room, there were thousands, if not more books inside this place but she could hardly think half of them were decent enough. She didn't mean to say they were terrible, but half of them did lacked that effect that great books tended to have.
Speaking to a stranger wasn't a weird thing for Cassandra; however what was strange was the setting of her talking to him. Usually when she met someone knew it was because they were joining one of her classes, because she was going to teach them; because the person was a new patient at the hospital. Those were the normal scenarios, so one could see why it was different for her to suddenly be speaking to a guy at the book warehouse, not that she was complaining though. People who understood her view in literature were few and far between. Usually most people her age, and even younger seemed to adore either the vampire, romantic and lame novels, either that or they went for soppy love stories or rather tragic ones. She saw nothing wrong with romantic things, as long as there was something more to them. While Cassandra wouldn't call herself a hopelessly romantic; she had to admit that romance was a rather nice thing every once in a while. But going back to what was happening at the moment. Why was she still carrying on with the conversation? Maybe he wanted to leave and she kept keeping him here. Now she just hoped that was not the case at all, although if he wanted to leave he could easily cut the conversation and leave.
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Post by IAN MARK MCDONALD on Sept 4, 2012 21:35:14 GMT -5
[STYLE=background-color: #ECECEC; -moz-border-radius: 1em; -webkit-border-radius: 1em; border-top: 5px #753BC0 solid; border-bottom: 5px #753BC0 solid; padding: 10px; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; color: #484848; margin-top: -6px; width: 300px; text-align: justify;] Shakespeare had a way of setting up the most unlikely of stories. The heroine was almost always strong to some degree, and not willing to give up without a fight. She was stubborn, and went to any length to get her way. She was the kind of girl others held up on a pedestal for all to see, in some way or another, and she was shown to be a wonder and a beauty. Never was there a girl ill-favored by everyone, and never was there a girl who did not come out triumphantly in some respect. Even in the case of Cleopatra, she was able to hold her love before they both parted, sealing the romantic tale of tragedy and woe forever.
The man, however, was very different. Either he was a clown, a plot piece used to amuse others, or a serious man. The serious man always wanted something, and in the light-hearted tales, that something was love. He did strange, bizarre, unorthodox things for the one that he cherished and loved. Nothing stood in his way, but unlike the power and authority of his lady, he had a more comedic twist to get what he desired. Again, he normally won, unless he was the clown. Then it is hard to analyze exactly what he wants or where he is going; one simply accepts him as a vital game piece and knows he can be moved about in a strange sort of dance without any real damage to the story. Yet, it is in the less vital characters such as he, that we find our plot ultimately moves forward.
Right now, at the very moment in question, Ian could not have told you who he was. Typically he was the jovial comic relief, who bore no significance, never won nor lost, and never found himself entangled in the arms of true love. However, today was different. A pretty girl who was well-versed and well-educated was hard to find, and she at least seemed to be friendly; far so from what Ian was used to in women. Those few girls he did socialize with all turned into complete wrecks at some point or another, and they'd come crying to him about their troubles, and he'd sit through their favorite Romantic Comedy and always supplied a healthy vat of ice cream. As he grew older, he lost those girls to the jocks and the studs, and instead let his books care for him like the friends his introverted, dorky soul never truly had.
Shakespeare must have been hard at work, writing stories to fill Ian's head with whimsy and wonder. In fact, they were beginning to have some significance now as he felt a strange surge of confidence.
"I don't suppose you'd like to chat over some lunch?"
Seeing as it was coming up upon lunchtime, he thought he'd make the offer and see how it went. Rejection left him no worse off, and if she said yes, he'd have a lovely chat with a fellow literary, and maybe they could be friends. While Ian did not see it growing beyond that, he was still willing enough to try.
[classy=reveal] hover for stats . hover for stats . hover for stats words:: wouldn't you like to know? c; tag:: cass mood:: brave notes:: <3
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Post by cassandra n. dostoevsky on Sept 6, 2012 17:57:00 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,10,true][atrb=style, background-color: #fff; width: 505px; border-top: 10px #95D9DE solid, bTable] ☼ sunshine
YOU CAN BE MY If there was something Cassandra loved about reading a good novel was to find out about the character; she wished to read anything she could find about it to understand the personality and the things it did on a better level. It was an interesting motion really, and she liked to think it was a good thing to take so much interest on that particular idea. A sigh left her lips while she waited for the male to comment on one way or another because to be honest she was kind of looking forward to it. It was rare to find someone who would be able to think in the same way she does, so she was sticking to this little small talk for as long as she could. It probably wasn't going to last long because he most likely had somewhere else to be at the moment, that could easily be the wrong case but even so she was willing to wait and see for she had absolutely nothing else to do. Granted she had planned on spending her time reading with a cup of tea but that plan was flexible, as something more interesting had come to appear before her in the form of a well dressed man who knew literature. He didn't seemed that outgoing, that much she could tell and while she wasn't being overly outgoing either she sort of felt like maybe she was more relaxed than him. It made her smile slightly and think on why he would not be social; or perhaps he was just like this for no apparent reason. Maybe this was simply his personality instead of him being shy or nervous. It could happen of course and she knew that, having met several people who are just quiet instead of shy. This got her thinking, how do other people look at her. Do they see someone shy? or someone extroverted? Or maybe they someone who is annoying on some aspect. It was a good question in her very little opinion, to wonder how others perceive you as, but she wasn't going to die if she didn't found the answer to it. As it was not that important but just a rather curious trait that she would like to find out. Yes that was all it was for sure. Then stop thinking about it Cass.
Once something had managed to enter the lovely mind of Cassandra it was almost impossible to let it slip away unless you came to find something else to occupy her mind, which was not an easy test because very few things actually seemed to spike her interest. This male had done it, which in itself was a good think and an almost impossible thing, whether he realized about it or not. Yes, he probably didn't because he had no clue how her personality works. However you can not deny the fact that dancing and medicine were her life and nothing seemed to take her away from those things. Well, perhaps reading was the answer to not being so obsessed with the other two. It seemed to be working right now so why not later. Yes that seemed actually good in her mind. The fact that he had actually asked her to lunch to carry on the conversation was rather unexpected, not like people had never asked her to carry on a conversation with a meal but for some reason this one seemed to caught her a little of guard even when she had wanted to continue this on. A soft smile came to her lips while she nodded her head "Actually, I would like that" she responded after little thinking. So she had replaced reading with conversation and alone with company. Yes, rather opposite of what she had planned, specially since she rejected her friend offer about going to hang out together but this seemed slightly better. No offense to her friend but she felt like the conversation was going to be better now. Going to have lunch with a stranger to discuss good literature? Not to shabby for this day.
"Um, lead the way" She said a moment later, with a smile on her lips and a gentle gesture for him to walk first so she could follow. It had been his idea so she assumed that he at least might have a place in mind, if he did not she was certain they could find somewhere at some point. Cassandra had been so stressed out in the past couple of days that now she was perfectly happy with being here having a good time. This was what she needed to do in order to make her life simpler and to not end up in the hospital due to stress, that would be a little embarrassing in her mind. So she was dedicated a day a week or a day every two weeks to doing things like this so she loved it. Maybe the universe was finally working for her to not have to be so worried all the time. Yes that was probably it. Either way she felt like she was fine with this guy, he seemed alright, and that made her feel in confidence actually, strange but she liked it.
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