 The Paragon Wiki Archive documents the state of City of Heroes/Villains as it existed on December 1, 2012.
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Ex Libris/Background
Contents
Overview
Background stories such for NCsoft employee characters such as the one below are of questionable canon. As such, they are a slight grey area as content but are more canonical than that of the ley user.
This background is directly copied from the one posted by Ex Libris and is preserved here to avoid loss due to the forum pruning that occasionally happens on the official boards. At no time should any user other than the contents owner alter the below text.
Part 1
“That’s it, kid, get out of my classroom. I have had enough of your smart aleck comments.” “Where do you expect me to go?” The girl retorted. “I don’t care, just leave my sight. Go to the principal’s office. I expect that he will work out the transfer details.”
Another teacher down, the young girl thought as she walked the long corridor of classrooms. This was the third time she had been removed from class by a teacher. Her outbursts weren’t intentional; they were driven more out of the desire to fit in, or perhaps it was because she knew she never would fit in. But that didn’t have to mean going unnoticed.
Izzy waited at the receptionist’s desk with obvious chagrin. Ms.Bailey always felt sorry for her. The kindly woman couldn’t imagine losing both parents and siblings in a freak boating accident. To be the sole survivor of such a catastrophe was beyond anything she could remotely relate to. Ms. Bailey recalled the newspaper article outlining the morbid details of the Dubois family, lost to the darkness of the ocean over the long 4th of July weekend. And the eight year old girl found alone, drifting amid the wreckage.
“Principal Dewalt, Isabelle is here. She was sent by Mr. Drake.” “Send her in Ms. Bailey.” Principal Dewalt was no stranger to Izzy’s file. Recently an orphan she suffered from violent nightmares. Socially disturbed, but overwhelmingly bright for her age. This was the third placement for Isabelle Dubois, and he was running out of options. At what point, he thought is the limit to what we can do? The case was perplexing at best.
Izzy walked into Principal Dewalts office with trepidation. “Well Izzy, what happened this time?” “Nothing,” Izzy shrugged. “Nothing huh, well I don’t think Mr. Drake would kick you out of his class for nothing. Isabelle you are a smart girl, I just don’t know what I am going to do in this situation.”
Honestly, Izzy had no idea either. It was only November and this was the last teacher available in her grade. Mrs. Olsen was fed up with her lack of follow-through. Ms. Pritchert had found her curled up in the coat closet and felt that Izzy needed more attention than she could provide. And Mr. Drake was tired of the disorder caused by Izzy’s verbal outbursts.
Principal Dewalt had just finished a phone call with Izzy’s foster care provider Hanna Bert. Izzy liked living with Hanna and didn’t want to cause problems for her or be forced to live somewhere else.
“Hanna says you like it here at this school, Izzy, so I would like to try and make this work for everyone. I think you know that my job is to make sure that every child who attends Moorecrest Elementary has the chance to reach their potential as a student. That includes you Izzy, but that means I have 347 other students to think about as well.” Izzy fidgeted in the oversized chair. She knew what he was driving at, and knew that her behavior was going to get her in some real trouble if she didn’t “shape up,” as Hanna put it to her the last time this happened. “So Izzy, what do you suggest that we do? We can’t send you home. Hanna has to work and you cannot be left unsupervised. And you can’t just stay here in the office.” “I don’t know, sir. I guess you could just send me to the library.” The library was Izzy’s refuge. She could escape into a quiet corner and jump into a book that would take her away from all the cares and concerns of this confusing world that was now Izzy’s life. Principal Dewalt picked up the phone. “Dr. Evans, I have Isabelle Dubois here in my office. We have had an issue arise which has led us, temporarily, to seek another placement for her where she will be able to able to keep up with her studies.” There was a muffled response that Izzy couldn’t quite understand. Dr Evans was a retired physicist who used to teach at a local University. God only knows why he would take a job in an elementary school library, but Izzy liked him a great deal. He always spoke to her as if she was an adult and could understand much more than other people gave her credit. Izzy had always been a book worm, and if the elementary school had enough of a budget to computerize their circulation desk, it would easily show that Isabelle Dubois was the most well read child the elementary school had seen in the last fifteen years. Starting at the first grade Izzy quickly read through most of the books that Mrs. Larsen had recommended from the junior section. So Izzy was introduced into the Dewey section in the second grade, two years before most children were taught it as part of the school curriculum. Principal Dewalt hung up the telephone. “Ok, Izzy. Dr. Evans has agreed to supervise you until we can find a suitable situation. I will arrange with Mr. Drake to have your school packets delivered each day. I expect you to keep up with your studies, and Dr. Evans has agreed to assist you with this. Now I don’t want to hear that you are giving Dr. Evans any trouble. Do you understand?” Izzy nodded, trying to hold back her enthusiasm; perhaps this was what she wanted all along: freedom from the mundane routine and social anxieties that others referred to as the fourth grade.
The library always seemed a peaceful place to Izzy. Even more than church had been, and she hadn’t stepped foot inside a church since the funeral. In fact she couldn’t even see one or it reminded her of all she had lost. But the library was a neutral setting. Sometimes she thought of her family because a book she was reading reminded her of times they had shared, but memories like that made her feel good, like she was part of something -- not like church where she felt like a part of her was missing. “Welcome, Isabelle,” Dr. Evans said as she sauntered into the library.
“What is the question?” Dr. Evans quipped. “To be or not to be,” Izzy answered.
Dr. Evans was a great fan of the literary giants and had as of late started to introduce Izzy to the works of Shakespeare. Izzy was commonly drawn to her particular fascination of fantasy fiction, weapons, and encyclopedias. But she seemed to take to the classics with ease most of what Izzy read were abridged versions or somewhat watered down bits of Olde English, but she didn’t seem to have any trouble picking up on the intended meanings or rhyme and meter of the Bard of Avon. “Well I guess we are waiting on these supposed learning packets of yours. How about for today you give me a hand re-shelving these books, and then perhaps we can start on cataloging some new media that has just arrived?” Izzy took the cart that Dr. Evans was referring to and pushed it towards the large, oak card catalog towards the non-fiction section. This was her favorite spot in the library, the catalog filled with thousands of book references it seemed to represent endless possibilities and plot twists. On the wall above the catalog printed in large block letters were the words, Ex Libris. Something about those words seemed so powerful that it always captured her attention. She paused there for a second trying to figure out the meaning. “From the books,” Dr. Evans said as he came up behind her with the fiction returns. “Ex Libris means from the books.” Izzy smiled and thought to herself, ‘my real education begins now, here, in the library.’
Part 2
Dr. Evans had finally done it, he thought to himself. He had found the ideal pupil. Isabelle Dubois was the perfect candidate, and he had nearly discredited her after the accident…the loss of her family. Evans thought to himself, I must find a way to make sure I can keep Izzy enrolled at Moorecrest. If they try and place her somewhere else I will have to start all over again. Or that might just be the key to keeping her post elementary school.
Evans knew that his ideas were radical and after leaving ‘the institute’ he took a fellowship offer at the local University hoping he would find an apt student to assist him develop his ideas. After working with the fellowship program nearly two years he realized that these students had already passed the point of execution for his ideas. They were too far into adulthood to grasp anything so mind blowing as his radical ‘Theory of Possibility.’ Certainly there were some brilliant candidates but most of them had grasped too many of the hard lined laws of nature and the universe to even see Dr. Evan’s ideas as anything more than fantastical and foolish.
Evans recalled one of his favorite quotes from Albert Einstein.
“Imagination is more important than knowledge. For knowledge is limited to all we now know and understand, while imagination embraces the entire world, and all there ever will be to know and understand.”
Dr. Elliot Evans knew that he would have to find another way. Elliot knew that his disease was terminal, he was only 67 and most would consider that to be young but time was of the essence now and he had to find someone that could carry on his life’s work. The sheer number of technological advances that could be made if his proofs held up to scrutiny would be astounding. If only I could make it work he thought. Then he could truly be deemed as a great thinker, instead of the quack that most held him up to be.
Izzy lay there shivering and curled up rocking back and forth with every movement of the deep black ocean. She was wet from head to toe, and could only feel some sense of warmth inside her green vest life jacket.
The life jacket had been her birthday present when she turned 8 a few months before. She was so happy about the gift that she wore it for nearly a week around the house. Her mother finally was able to convince her to stow it away under her bed until they had brought the boat out from winter storage.
Izzy pulled her arms inside the vest and curled up tighter, she was so cold that she couldn’t stop her jaw from chattering and knocking her teeth together. She couldn’t remember ever being this cold before. She wondered where her family was and why they hadn’t come to find her. Izzy wasn’t quite sure what had happened, she knew her head hurt terribly and that she was floating on the large cushion that was backed by a plywood board. It was the one that covered the engine on the back of the boat. But where was the boat? Where was her family? Where was Izzy?
Izzy slowly moved around the cushion as to not disrupt the balance that had up to this point kept her safe. Nothing! She couldn’t see anything but a void of darkness. Then she saw a beam of light pass by, but it was quickly gone again. Izzy was so tired but she knew that she shouldn’t fall asleep, she knew that she had been hit on the head and had read recently in one of her “Hardy Boy’s” mysteries that it was not a good idea to fall asleep if you had a head injury. Izzy couldn’t help thinking if she did fall asleep that she would miss finding her family.
The light beamed over head again. Maybe that is them looking for me, Izzy thought. Certainly it must be she tried to raise her head up to see if she could hear a boat engine but she could hear nothing but the ocean, and again she could see nothing but darkness. Where was that light coming from?
Again the beam crossed over the wide expansion of the sky. Izzy could only tell the difference between the darkness of the ocean and the sky by looking at the horizon. The light crossing over was too static to be a rescue boat, Izzy thought, it must be something else, but she couldn’t quite figure it out. Then again it crossed over.
“29, 28, 27, 26, 25,” Izzy started to count. She got to 15 when the light crossed over again. “15, 14, 13, 12, 11,” and on down to 1 and there the beam flashed across the sky. It was a lighthouse! Izzy kept counting; it took 15 seconds for the light to go full circle around its circumference. Izzy figured that if she continued to count she would be able to tell if she was getting closer or drifting further away from where the lighthouse was stationed.
“10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1,” and SNAP! Izzy was wide awake. She looked confusedly around Dr. Waters’s office and then her eyes narrowed in on Hanna. She remembered now, she was at her scheduled psychiatric appointment.
“How do you feel Izzy?” Dr. Waters asked.
Izzy hated that question. “I feel sleepy.” She responded. “Did you learn anything new about what happened to me?” Izzy asked with anticipation.
“No, not really.” Dr. Waters replied. “Izzy are you still having trouble sleeping at night?” Dr. Waters asked, to which Hanna replied. “She wakes up with nightmares at least 3 or 4 times a week, and half the time when I go in to check on her to see if she is sleeping she’s awake and reading.”
“Well I can write her a prescription to help her sleep.” Dr. Waters stated.
Izzy sat quietly while decisions were made in her behalf, she didn’t quite care that this was happening because most people treated her like this, hardly anyone ever asked her what she thought or what she wanted. She felt more like she was a problem than a person.
Isabelle sat quietly meditating with her eyes closed she then took in a deep breath and inhaled the steamy air. The eucalyptus seemed to sting open the alveoli of her lungs. Isabelle had always been susceptible to infections after that summer so long ago. Her best defense was regular exercise and a rigid diet. It was amazing to her how good she felt after a hardcore work out, and sitting in the steam room had proved to be the most therapeutic practice she had come across in her adult life. Adult, Izzy could hardly wrap around the idea that she was nearly 25. This had been a rough winter and she missed the camaraderie of her old mentor Elliot, she could hardly believe that three years had past since his death and her inheritance.
Isabelle had long given up the idea that she would ever have a family. Hanna and Dr. Evans were the closest thing she could think of to familial relations. Hanna had since married and started her own family and kept in touch at the usual social conjectures, birthdays and holidays. And Dr Evans had finally passed on, he went quietly and peacefully. It seemed to Izzy that he had long prepared himself for the event. Isabelle however, was hardly prepared, she was 21 years old and technically an adult in fact far more mature than most adults were but she took Dr. Evans death very poorly.
There were problems that Isabelle despite her best attempts to find a solution just couldn’t tackle and it would be good to bounce ideas past Dr. Evans like she had so easily done in her past. She kept a daily journal, which helped, but it was times like this that she relied on meditation, hoping to channel the good Doctor.
Oddly in her hopes to channel him she brought up images from a distant past, there were still pieces missing in the puzzle that created her. Pieces that Izzy knew she would need to find in order for her to unlock the pieces to a bigger puzzle.
Possibilities!?!
Part 3
Ex Libris, part III.
Isabelle put down the book she was analyzing removed her glasses and rubbed the soreness from her eyes. Then keeping her eyes closed stretched her neck and tried to stretch her arms. She was sore. It was certain that she would never beat Derek in a fencing match, that is what she gets for going up against a champion but damn if she wasn’t going to give it her all. Izzy met Derek when he first came to work at the Freedom Corps on the ELITE division. Since Derek was a supervisor for ELITE he was actually allowed to interact with Izzy on a personal as well as professional level. Most people working within the Freedom Corps complex had no knowledge of an Isabelle Dubois or if they did, many of them hardly knew what her job there entailed. Isabelle had access to more classified information than any human being could possibly know what do to with, or even be able to begin to decipher. Isabelle’s duties were simple she was the guardian and protector of information that if found in the wrong set of hands could destroy Paragon City, or even the world. Isabelle came and left work each day under a closely monitored protected passage, she did not leave the office ever after entering each day until the end of the day when she would leave from a separate closely monitored protected passage. But one of the perks of working there was an in house gym, cafeteria, and private quarters.
Izzy cared little for the cloak and dagger stealth factors that were involved with her job. All she cared for were some of the books and ancient manuscripts that had somehow managed to survive an intellectually careless species. To say humans were reckless with their treasures and resources was one thing but some of what Izzy had seen would put them in the down right dumb category, and Izzy tried hard not to focus on that. Izzy brought her arm back down and glanced at her watch, 1:17, hmm she thought I have just enough time to rest my eyes before that 2:00 planning meeting. Izzy disappeared to her small but comfortable private quarters and laid down for a nap.
Since Izzy knew that falling asleep would make her more tired than she was already she decided to do some meditation. Izzy had been lucky to find Allison King through her contacts at Freedom Corps. Allison said that she could help Izzy remember her past and put her life at ease, and Izzy decided to give it one last chance before just letting the wiped details be filled in with the wild musings of her imagination. Izzy breathed deeply in and out, letting all the stress leave her body as she exhaled. She settled in on Allison’s advice to let her mind go where it wanted to, and that would help her retrace her steps.
“Argh!” Izzy sat up frustrated. “Concentrate, dammit.” Izzy pushed her fingers into her closed eyes to relieve the tension that was building there. As she sat there with pressure on her eyes, she noticed that there was a gradual movement from darkness to a centered light. The pinnacle of the light forming just over the bridge of her nose, it reminded her of a lighthouse. That was it, the lighthouse that was the key. Isabelle laid back down still holding pressure on both of her eyes and concentrated on that moment she was held in a pendulum of nearly frozen death and barely willing life. She remembered contemplating just rolling off the cushion into the ocean and letting her lungs fill with water. She knew it would be painful, but quick. But something kept her holding on to the balance of life. How did she get out of the ocean? What happened? She just couldn’t piece that together. Izzy remembered being there, but the next memories she had were of her elementary school Moorecrest. It was the lighthouse, Izzy knew that it had some answer, some clue; in fact she could even see the interior of it in her mind’s eye. Yes, she had actually been there, she remembered it being small, having a kitchen with an old pot belly stove. She remembered the whistle of a tea kettle….
“Iz, you back there?” Isabelle sat up startled and annoyed. “Sure Derek, I’ll be right there.” “K, I just thought we could walk to the meeting together, so I could gloat a bit more about my victory.” “Hah,” Izzy shouted. “Vanity is not a virtue.” “Well Iz, to your credit if you had started fencing at the age I did I think today would have been your triumph.” “You really are quite good, where did you learn?” “In books,” Izzy replied. “Nah you are kidding right?” “Nope,” Izzy said, “I read “The Count of Monte Cristo,” as well as “The Three Musketeers” when I was a kid and after that I couldn’t get enough material on sword fighting.” “Not only that but I was obsessed with pirates when I was younger.” “My mom used to tease me with bedtime stories about my made up pirate ancestors; I swear she had a better imagination than I do.” “Hmm, your mom sounds cool, does she live here in the city.” Izzy came through the doorway of her small room and replied casually, “Nope, no family now, I’m an orphan.” “Heh, well good one Derek, way to impress the lady.” Derek said slightly embarrassed. “No big deal Derek, I was pretty young when it happened, I don’t really remember them.”
“So shall we away to the Justice meeting?” Izzy quipped. “Sure thing, I hear Miss Liberty has a special announcement. The two of them walked side by side up the stairs that lead to the pentagon shaped room above. Each branch of the Freedom Corps lead out to there own area, and the main meeting room was above the area where Izzy worked. There was an intricate design and immense amount of structural architecture that went into the building. There was even a vault level below the main area where Izzy worked, as far as Izzy knew only six individuals had access to the vaults, and she was one of them. Considering her existence, or lack thereof Izzy always viewed the proceedings of the Justice planning meetings from a secured location. “Well this is my stop.” Derek said. “Yep,” Izzy replied. “I’ll see you later this week.” “Yeah next time I’ll go a bit easier on you in the match,” Derek chuckled. “Don’t you dare for one second you hear me Derek, I am going to beat you one of these days, and I don’t want you placating me.” Derek laughed, “ok Iz, I promise.”
Izzy kept climbing a set of stairs where she could see the guard standing near the secured door. Isabelle nodded as she passed by him and quietly took her seat.
These meetings always bored Izzy, she was never one for paying attention to one thing for too long. She would have loved to sneak a book in to read, or to fall asleep but the cameras were another story. She could only imagine having that caught on camera, and then having to deal with her bosses. So Izzy cleverly brought a small notebook in with her so that it appeared like she was keeping notes of the meeting. She wasn’t tasked with doing so, there were appointed scribes in every meeting, who would then translate any of the meeting notes into the various languages and disperse them. So Izzy knew that she would receive a well written version of notes that she could catch up on anything she missed. Plus a small scan of the room showed that only the most die hard heroes were paying attention. It was amazing what crossed the minds of the average hero on a Friday afternoon. Izzy lost herself in her word doodles and symbolic scribbles. Falling almost trance like traced the infinity symbol into her notebook then traced its path over and over again until the sideways figure 8 nearly wore through the paper. Infinity was a concept that she had studied so much but was still so far from having any sort of understanding about. What was it all for? “Gah!” she said aloud as the speaker announcing the end of the meeting stood to thank everyone for coming. Well, Izzy thought, it’s Friday night, and it’s been a long week. I think I will head over to Pocket D tonight for a drink.
Isabelle Dubois had to admit that of all things that were overwhelmingly full in her life, her social life was seemingly lacking.
~Ex Libris~ The story part III by Jill Henderson.
Part 4
Izzy walked back toward her office. Dr. Evans had set her up a small area towards the back near the audiovisual equipment. An eight-year-old child doesn’t need that much space; in fact at times they become overwhelmed with how large the world is only to discover a whole Universe. Evans had done extensive research during his tenure at ‘Cap.’ “What are you studying today Izzy?” Dr Evans asked quizzically. “Weapons!” Izzy responded. Izzy had a preoccupation with Arthurian History and Lore. “Ah ha, and what weapon design fascinates you the most?” Dr. Evans asked. “The bows, well mainly the crossbows, but I have learned a lot about different arrows and darts that have been used and what they were made of, it’s pretty cool.” “Pretty cool, eh, well how about cool enough to write me a small essay about the history of archery, the weapons, and methodology of using the equipment properly.” “I guess that’s cool.” Izzy said as she shuffled away.
This sure beat regular school. Izzy would always sit and stare out the window or watch the clock tick, tick, tick, she could swear sometimes that the hand would actually move backwards just to tease her. Izzy knew exactly how many holes were in one of the ceiling tiles and had read every piece of school graffiti that had ever been etched into hard plastic or whatever that material was made from?? Everything about school bugged Izzy. That was at least how it was before…before her family was taken from her. Now school was a saving grace.
Iz plopped down into her cushy chair; it was an old orange boxy looking thing. She flipped on the reading lamp and reached behind the chair to pull out a book she had hidden. Izzy had hid the books ever since she started reading them, she hid them not because she would have to do a report, or that Dr. Evans would look at her with scorn. He was actually pretty cool about the stuff she read. She went through the whole Roald Dahl phase, Izzy thought “James and the Giant Peach.” was he best book ever, until she read, “Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator.” No, Evans was a pretty cool dude for an old guy. Izzy was hiding “Anne of Green Gables,” because she was kind of embarrassed that she was reading it since it was all-girlie and stuff. Secretly Izzy loved reading the ‘Anne’ books; she just preferred keeping it just that, secretly.
“The Boxcar Children” was what she read as her transition into the big kid library. Mrs. Larsen who was the librarian then finally helped Izzy pick out her first set of books just after showing her how to use the card catalog, and pass a test on the Dewey Decimal System. Library Bingo, that’s how most of the children, learned how about the library sections. Kids couldn’t check books out until they had passed the test. Isabelle Dubois was the youngest child Mrs. Larsen had ever seen pass. Mrs. Larsen thought Izzy was a whiz kid, and since kindergarten had been incredibly bright.
“Isabelle, are you ready for lunch?” Dr. Evans called back to her. “Be right there,” Izzy called back, she folded the ear of the page down, which later she would regret, dropped the book in the chair and headed off to lunch.
Dr. Evans walked with Izzy up to the cafeteria door, where he would then tell her he would meet her back at the library after lunch and the afternoon recess. Izzy usually skipped recess unless it was a particularly beautiful day and in those cases she still had a book in hand and would find a quiet sunny spot in the grass and lie down and read.
“So what weapons did you read about this morning?” “Atlatl’s,” Izzy responded with a lie. “Ah ha, aging all the way back to Paleolithic times are we now?” “Sort of, I was reading mainly about how early hunters would poison the darts with a tranquilizer type poison, hit a large animal from the distance and then track the animal until it dropped.” “Seems like some smart thinking.” Dr. Evans stated. “Yeah, I guess if you are determined you can drop an elephant with a dart.” Izzy laughed. “Ok well have a good lunch, and let me know if you have any trouble.” Dr. Evans headed towards the teacher’s lounge.
Walking into the large cafeteria filled with other kids always caused Izzy a great deal of discomfort. Izzy didn’t really have any friends, unless you could count Dr. Evans as such. Izzy was odd, but on top of that was the factor of being an orphan, the other kids just didn’t know how to interact with her and so in most cases either teased or ignored her completely.
Izzy took a deep breath and entered the room.
The lights were flashing over head and the music was blasting through the main dance hall. Isabelle still struggled with large crowds, some internal fear dropped her right back into the 4th grade.
Isabelle made her way towards the Tiki Lounge where she had promised to meet Derek. The ambiance inside the Tiki Lounge was a slight change from the large dance floor and neon glow inside the main hall of Pocket D. Isabelle knew there were other areas inside Pocket D, she had heard about “The Monkey Cage,” and the extreme fighting matches that took place there but she had never ventured there herself.
The club was a huge success that catered to the most diverse crowd Isabelle had ever encountered. DJ Zero had done very well with the place, and while Isabelle was a club frequenter, she had always had a good time when she did venture out.
Isabelle squeezed into a quiet booth along the wall inside the Tiki Lounge and waited for Derek to find her. She glanced furtively around the room a habit she had grown accustomed to from her youthful lunch room experiences. As she scanned the room she noticed someone who had a familiar face sitting at the bar. Isabelle stared for the briefest of moments, but in the end it was too long.
The familiar stranger turned almost intuitively and stared straight back into Isabelle’s eyes. Isabelle smiled nervously. Then almost as if invited, the familiar stranger started walking towards Isabelle.
Isabelle fidgeted nervously, and twisted forward in her seat.
“You don’t remember me do you?”
Part 5
Chapter V: Book Wyrm
“Uh” Isabelle was speechless, “No, I don’t remember you, I’m sorry.”
Just then Derek came up to the booth, and Isabelle swore that she was never so relieved to see him in her life.
Derek being the friendly heroic type extended his hand and greeted the mysteriously familiar woman.
“Hi, I’m Derek; you must be a friend of Isabelle’s.”
Isabelle listened intently hoping to catch a clue to this woman’s identity so she could place her in her memory.
“Na we aren’t really friends, we were school mates a long time ago. My name is Vivienne, it’s nice to meet you Derek.” “It looks like you have a date so I’ll let you get back to your evening.”
“It was good to see you again Isabelle.”
Before Isabelle could form the words the woman had vanished, almost it seemed into thin air. Derek sat down at the table and started chattering about contacts, and reports. Isabelle quietly nodding her head and staring at him drifted off into her memory trying to find the catalog that contained…Vivienne.
Izzy hated lunch period. It was the single most boring hour of her life. She had taken the time to multiply the hours that she would end up spending suspended in that systematic human devised time sink. She averaged that she would spend 1500 hours sunk into “lunch” over the next 5 years of her academic career. Izzy figured that was 1100 hours of reading and potential growth gone.
“It only takes fifteen minutes for me to eat my lunch I don’t see why I can’t just stay here in the library”
Izzy had once pleaded to Dr. Evans.
“I know Isabelle, and if it were up to me I would encourage you to stay here, but the law requires us as educators to have a one hour lunch break.” Dr. Evans replied.
Isabelle had started in to return her rebuttal when Dr. Evans followed up his argument with a statement.
“There’s more to it Isabelle, and you know that. It has taken some people years to attain their rights as citizens of St. Mercy and Port Oakes.”
Isabelle pulled a face of disapproval that spoke volumes, but she knew that Dr. Evans was right. Her father had always talked about his work to lobby for change. Isabelle stopped and looked down at her feet, as an image of her father telling one of his stories pervaded her mind; it was so real she could hear his voice echoing in her memory.
“Things haven’t always been this way Izzy, and they won’t always stay this way, the world is in a constant state of change. I just try to be one of those people out there pushing it a certain direction.”
Dr. Evans who had been walking along side her at a rather quickened pace, stopped and looked the three feet behind him where he stared at the saddest little girl he had ever seen. His shoulders drooped slightly as he was overwhelmed with a rush of empathy.
Isabelle looked up at that moment and asked in the most sincere tone Dr. Evans had ever recalled.
“Does it ever get easier?” “I mean will it ever stop hurting so much?”
Dr. Evans stepped closer to Izzy and put his hand on her shoulder.
“It doesn’t feel like that right now Izzy, and it will be a while before it will. But there will come a time when you can remember the good things without feeling the pain.”
Izzy was embarrassed at her emotional outburst and shrugged at Dr. Evans, simultaneously dismissing his kindness as unnecessary and at the same time feeling completely comforted.
She knew better than anything she had to control her emotions and attachment to other people, as it was a weakness. She knew well enough from her studies of archery that a natural human possessed the ability to hurdle a weapon across time and space to hit a target. The target, supposing it wasn’t static has two innate defenses. First, if the target were mobile, it is less easily tagged. Second, if the defense of the target is strong enough to repel the force and nature of the attack, then it could potentially render the attack futile. She knew that she needed to master these principles.
Izzy figured if it worked in physical theory it ought to apply to psychology as well. And since she figured it that way, it was. Until she could prove herself otherwise!
Izzy and Dr. Evans walked up the hallway and towards the junction split where teachers and students converged and like charged energy headed towards their destinations.
Izzy ducked left and quickened her pace to keep up with the flow of the group. She hated social interaction on this level. Crowds had to be Isabelle’s single worst fear. She only felt safe in controlled environments. She had experienced enough chaos for one so young that she clung to the comfort of knowing the exact outcome of every situation.
Except when she read, that was the only time she felt truly free. Some of the other children teased her relentlessly, especially during lunch, and one of the main things they would always call her was ‘book worm’ and since Izzy knew it was true enough, she changed the word worm to be wyrm she altered the energy to be positive and each time they were calling her a Libris Draconis. Izzy figured being a book dragon ought to give her some incredible powers like the ability to freeze or breathe fire. She was still working out the specifics in her head as to which element she liked the most.
Someone bumped into Izzy and she was alert to the fact that she had drifted off into her mental space again.
“Pay Attention” she reminded herself.
Isabelle always kept her head low and eyes focused downwards to heighten her ability to see her peripheral better. She always had the eerie feeling she was being watched.
It was her peripheral that caught the first sight of danger that afternoon. The chair came sliding across the floor with Izzy as the dead on target. Izzy couldn’t escape its path but she knew she could defend against it, what she found instead was far more than she had thought possible.
The chair made a screeching sound as it rushed across the floor then made a sudden halt right at Izzy’s feet. For a split second everything within the immediate area stopped as well and a hush started to creep across the cafeteria.
Almost as quickly as the chair had stopped it pushed forward in the other direction as a skinny, ‘raven-haired,’ girl pushed forward and started mouthing off to the boy who had pushed the chair at Isabelle.
“You almost hit her you fricken punk.” “You think you are so cool and untouchable in your gang. If you want to fight someone, you can start with me.”
Isabelle slammed back against the wall with a force of awe and a rush of unexpected energy. Her heart was pulsing in her head and she could feel her stomach muscles tighten in preparation to sprint into action.
“What’s happening to me?” she thought, and she heard a voice very clearly say.
“Just stay calm.” “I’ll get us out of here, just don’t run.”
This couldn’t be possible. Isabelle knew that this couldn’t possibly be happening. She pushed her resolve forward enough to ease her energy into a relative flow and she pushed past the students who had gathered and walked towards the exit.
The students who were close by would later tell stories about how,
“I swear that library kid; she stopped the chair dead in its tracks without even touching it.”
Other students would always counter the tale and continually shed more and more doubt and as time passed and people realized that it just wasn’t possible the story evolved into something that resembled this,
“It was that weird girl, you know the one that dresses all dark and she sits alone at lunch. She stepped in right before the chair was going to smash into that little kid, and she kicked it out of the way and then picked a fight with Raymond Sciotto.”
Only Isabelle and the weird girl knew what really happened without any doubt.
