While his attention was diverted to the printed word, hers was devoted to the inked. There was the likelihood they were merely the craft of boredom, but it wasn't a conclusion she was willing to draw prematurely.
The sound of his voice in an overheard conversation -- did no one think to ask this sooner? -- moved her feet from one riddle to the next. She knew the likelihood of her solving them all would be low, as she hadn't even managed breaking all the simple riddles locking Eridan's communicator, but if even a few of these pieces held some greater meaning, it'd be worth the pursuit.
If nothing else, it'd give her something to do when she went back to the quiet with Sirius.
"Summers are usually pretty violent around here, aren't they?" she asked, turning her head to speak the words over her shoulder rather than face him directly. Her eyes were too caught on a new riddle; the writing of this one looked stranger than the last. The ink wasn't the same dark black, was it? "I suppose every season has some new pattern here."
no subject
The sound of his voice in an overheard conversation -- did no one think to ask this sooner? -- moved her feet from one riddle to the next. She knew the likelihood of her solving them all would be low, as she hadn't even managed breaking all the simple riddles locking Eridan's communicator, but if even a few of these pieces held some greater meaning, it'd be worth the pursuit.
If nothing else, it'd give her something to do when she went back to the quiet with Sirius.
"Summers are usually pretty violent around here, aren't they?" she asked, turning her head to speak the words over her shoulder rather than face him directly. Her eyes were too caught on a new riddle; the writing of this one looked stranger than the last. The ink wasn't the same dark black, was it? "I suppose every season has some new pattern here."