Post by Prudence on Sept 1, 2009 17:29:17 GMT -5
Prudence was always in the mood for appropriate literature accompanied by appropriate music. She had caught television reports about some sort of unidentified disease that was spreading far too rapidly. She had heard whispers and rumors that it left its victims shambling undead ghouls. And while she was hardly an expert on biological warfare, Prudence was sure this was no regular epidemic panic getting overblown by the US media. The more she thought about it, the more the apocalypse seemed extremely nigh.
So today she was reading Daniel Defoe's A Journal of the Plague Year. The diary of Samuel Pepys was next on her reading list. As for music, her earbuds fed her a steady diet of End of the World tunes. For reasons she didn't understand, she kept going back to play "London Calling" again. Every so often, she'd absent-mindedly sing along with one of the line under her breath as she read.
The idea of a horrible, apocalyptic plague being an actual reality chilled her to the bone. Prudence couldn't think about it for too long before her brain stopped thinking properly as a defense mechanism. And yet, she found she had a sort of morbid fascination with the idea. She couldn't figure out if her current situation at Hellsing was the best to be in, or the worst. It was too scary to consider, really. Instead, she'd bury herself in morbidly appropriate literature and music until the answer revealed itself. She turned the page on another passage of extremely detailed plague description, and hummed to herself.
"London is drowning and I, I live by the river...."
So today she was reading Daniel Defoe's A Journal of the Plague Year. The diary of Samuel Pepys was next on her reading list. As for music, her earbuds fed her a steady diet of End of the World tunes. For reasons she didn't understand, she kept going back to play "London Calling" again. Every so often, she'd absent-mindedly sing along with one of the line under her breath as she read.
The idea of a horrible, apocalyptic plague being an actual reality chilled her to the bone. Prudence couldn't think about it for too long before her brain stopped thinking properly as a defense mechanism. And yet, she found she had a sort of morbid fascination with the idea. She couldn't figure out if her current situation at Hellsing was the best to be in, or the worst. It was too scary to consider, really. Instead, she'd bury herself in morbidly appropriate literature and music until the answer revealed itself. She turned the page on another passage of extremely detailed plague description, and hummed to herself.
"London is drowning and I, I live by the river...."