Caitlin was far too distracted lately. Her grades weren’t slipping, that could never happen. All week she had turned in her papers and assignments, took her quizzes, attended classes, and took her notes just as she always had but her heart and mind just weren’t fully in it right now. For someone passionate about perfection in herself, she was slacking severely.
This was Lochlann’s fault, of course. She was spending her spare time staring at the computer screen until her eyes hurt and checking out every text she could get her hands on in the library that had to do with Water Horses and, in general, the Fae. She even spent her spare time at work perusing the isles for helpful reading and had consumed copious amounts of coffee, all in pursuit of a way to understand him more, a way to be able to be close with him and still, somehow, protect herself from what he was.
The coffee shop ought to thank her for their entire income this week.
Even now, the young woman was carrying a hot coffee in her grasp. She was put together as always, dressed in black leggings, gray suede boots that rode up over her knees, and a long blouse. Her hair was pulled into a low ponytail that trailed down to the very tip of her tailbone. Her porcelain skin was dressed with light make up but the make-up couldn’t mask the dark sleep circles forming under her eyes. She carried a bag over her shoulder stuffed to brimming with books and she carried several more in her arms.
She was on her way to the library…again. As she approached from across the campus, her eyes strayed upward to it’s rooftop, unfocused, lost in though.
This was Lochlann’s fault, of course. She was spending her spare time staring at the computer screen until her eyes hurt and checking out every text she could get her hands on in the library that had to do with Water Horses and, in general, the Fae. She even spent her spare time at work perusing the isles for helpful reading and had consumed copious amounts of coffee, all in pursuit of a way to understand him more, a way to be able to be close with him and still, somehow, protect herself from what he was.
The coffee shop ought to thank her for their entire income this week.
Even now, the young woman was carrying a hot coffee in her grasp. She was put together as always, dressed in black leggings, gray suede boots that rode up over her knees, and a long blouse. Her hair was pulled into a low ponytail that trailed down to the very tip of her tailbone. Her porcelain skin was dressed with light make up but the make-up couldn’t mask the dark sleep circles forming under her eyes. She carried a bag over her shoulder stuffed to brimming with books and she carried several more in her arms.
She was on her way to the library…again. As she approached from across the campus, her eyes strayed upward to it’s rooftop, unfocused, lost in though.
Why was Allan Lochman at the school? He wasn't a student, wasn't overly intent on enrolling, so it was out of curiosity. He had looked at the college courses and was now looking over the school. No one exlected a ex-mercenar to be intelligent, or have a desire to learn.