Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Emilie shuffled up the last few steps to the Maxville Public Library, resigned to facing the next four hours shelving books. And you know, it wasn't the shelving that bothered her; she could listen to her music the entire time, and usually ended up finding some really unique reads on the over crowded and ancient shelves. No, what really irked Emilie, was that she would be shelving books that people checked out and usually never even read. Sighing as she tossed her school bag under the check-out counter, she acknowledged her grandmotherly boss with a smile, then headed straight for the carts of books waiting just for her.
Donning her earphones, Emilie mechanically wove her way between sections, fiction and non-fiction, numbers and letters, until she was cursing the Dewey Decimal system for making her feel like she was going a little dyslexic due to the miniscule type setting. Deciding to take her break in the middle of the biographies, Emilie picked out the history of Lady Jane, and wound her way back to the reading area.
About the time Emilie was reading about adolescence in medieval England, someone else settled into one of the musty old reading chairs. Typically, the arrival of a fellow reader was easily ignored by Emilie, she just supposed years of reading had made her completely immune to distractions while she lost herself in literature. However, this intrusion was anything but typical. Most people who visited the Maxville Public Library were the same people who could eat meals and go to the movies at discounted rates, either very young or old. But peeking out over the edge of her book, Emilie saw something that she could only describe as being akin to seeing a knife thrower in a petting zoo. The first thing that threw her for a loop, was the fact that he was about her age, but that had to be impossible because Emilie had never seen another high schooler in the Library. If that wasn't enough to cause a distraction, the guy had trouble written all over him, from his ripped jeans to his worn leather jacket. Reluctantly, Emilie had to admit to herself that he was, well, hot. Irrationally, this really pissed Emilie off. What was he doing, walking into her hamlet of seclusion with his badass self, no doubt stumbling through the words of Nietzsche, mocking those like her who actually found some solace in scholarly pursuits.
"Humph," she sighed loudly, startling the guy into looking at her, while she found herself still glaring at him.
"Something wrong?" he asked her, his voice wavering on the edge of annoyance.
Immediately, Emilie felt that damn uncontrollable blush creep into her cheeks, embarrassed at getting caught staring. And she felt conflictingly guilty for making so many hasty assumptions about the stranger, yet even more furious with him for some unknown reason.
"No…well, yeah. I mean, what are you doing here?" she finally accused.
"Excuse me?" he growled, and Emilie swore she could feel the heat of his anger from four chairs away.
"No, I, well, I didn't mean it like that. It's just that no teenagers ever come in here. You know what, whatever," she conceded, flustered. "You can do whatever you like. Sorry. Free country and all that."
When he just continued to look at her, as if sizing her up, Emilie hastened, ever reluctant to make enemies, "I'm sorry, I think I started us off on the wrong foot." She smiled apologetically, "I'm Emilie. Sitting here, reading, and noting that it's nice for once to sit and read with someone who requires neither the aid of reading glasses and geriatric medicines nor the assistance of an adult to sound out all of the words for him."
At the hint of a smile from the stranger, Emilie's smile grew and she raised an eyebrow, indicating it was his turn to add to the conversation.
"I'm Warren."
Silence.
"And a man of many words I see." Emilie joked, trying to draw out a little more from the incongruous reader.
"And I'm also literate, which explains why I came to the library. To read." He stated with finality.
"Right, absolutely, and I will let you get back to your book." Emilie finished, feeling mildly relieved that she didn't have to pull words from the guy- Warren, any more. Wriggling back into the overstuffed chair, she tried in vain to get back to her biography.
"So why are you here?"
Emily looked up from the same line she'd been reading for the last ten minutes.
"What?" She frowned at him in confusion.
"Why are you here? If supposedly, no one who knows the title of Madonna's latest single ever comes in here, then why are you here?" he explained.
"Oh, well, I work here part-time."
He nodded in understanding, but added nothing more.
"Madonna, huh? I would have never taken you for a Madonna fan." She cocked an eyebrow in questioning.
He scowled and rolled his eyes, "It was a topical reference."
She smiled a little at him, stifling a giggle, but when she caught a glimpse of his face giving away how ridiculous he knew he sounded, she let herself laugh out loud. And when he gave her a smile back, she had to admit that it felt like she's just scored a goal in a shutout game.
When he suddenly pulled himself out of the chair to stand up, Emilie looked up at him for explanation, hoping that she hadn't inadvertently done something else to upset him.
"I've got to go to work," he said in a brusque familiarity. "I guess I'll, you know, see you around."
"Right, I should get back to shelving, too." Emilie added, wanting to ease the awkwardness of the situation. "See you around." She quipped as he headed off for the row that led to the exit.
Picking up her biography, and running a hand through her hair, Emilie looked up, just in time to see Warren glancing back at her.
I don't know where this came from. A whole vague outline of this story kind of popped into my head. Here's the basics, let me know if you think I should continue with it.
it'll all be told in Emilie's point of view from now on
she will not have any powers. Period.
the premise is that a citizen can be just as much of a hero, without sounding so cliché
all of the originals will be main characters in the story, but obviously it'll be warren/oc