Inalia: But of course, she possesses none of the grace or power implied from such choice of words.
Inalia: I hate my brain.
Inalia: And yet she tolerates it all the same. Out of bed, now, and in the same manner that a drunken mop props itself against the wall, she looks around her room. Perhaps she could start by examining herself in the mirror. Perhaps that spot of acne has begun to fade. But who is she kidding, of course it hasn’t. Perhaps she could clothe herself in something other than this shirt, or perhaps she could dig around in her dresser for something to do. Of course, to do so while still without her cloak and while her father is waiting would be quite unseemly for-
Inalia: Dad!
Itenus: What?!
Inalia: Do I have to come out, like, right now?!
Itenus: Not if you want cold breakfast!
Inalia: UGHHHHHHH, can you please keep it warm?!
Itenus: No! I have work to do!
Inalia: Pleeeeeeeeeease?!
Itenus: Honey, just
Itenus: You have five minutes!
Inalia: Thanks dad!!!
Inalia: And so, with five minutes to spend however she'd like, she glances about her room one last time and decides what to do.
Wow. We were off to a bit of an uncomfortable start, but this is great. It's like she's narrating everything for me.
