It was absolutely offensive and severe. Despite a great weather report, a fantastic disposition, and a feeling that yearned for possibilities, there was absolutely no time to appreciate what the day might bring. Once again, hundreds stood for what felt to be a slice-and-dice, given the mood, or sat, depending on whether they got there early, pacified. It would be a perfect way to have a mass incarceration or worse since the Council seemed to lord over everything, more and more so everyday. The stained pine walls exposed signs of a distinctive exhaustion with the amount of steam pouring out of the mouths of the highbrow group of “Councilors” that revealed suddenly obvious splits in the wood and sagging panels. Many held back yawns. The entirely ridiculous fiasco focused on these Council members, who sat at a table the length of a bowling alley and looked at us skin-tightened like they were the ones watching what would happen next, except they had directing them into the room. Jeneva Markham did find suburban living banal, and the tyranny of her brother a deeply disappointing alternative to elves that might be under the bridge. She’d always looked. There was nothing magical under these chairs or anywhere near the long table. …show more content…
Hers were nerve fibers. Theirs brought to mind Chucky, not Chuck E Cheese, and fake blood in slasher movies, like every fiber in their bodies had to counteract their instinct to reach out from behind tree trunks to strangle anyone who’d gotten out of line in the Clan. Piles of ubiquitous paperwork covered the table, all papers and files that they kept on each of them for the good of