a high school cliques rp
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 bookery, w/ Nat (Lia)
Atticus RyanAtticus Ryan
Click. Click. Click.

Back straight and expression one of absolute focus, Atticus Quentin Ryan--though one called him either of the first two names on pain of called in favor-induced death--sat in front of his computer, typing and clicking away with the grimness of a battled-hardened mercenary. Hyperbole, to be sure, but in a way, the fanciful part of his mind thought idly as he pushed deeper into the maze of hyperlinks and images, that was exactly what he was: a scavenger of deals, loyal only to favors and coin.

(Never let it be said that Ryan was unaware of his lot.)

This latest job, however, was starting to stretch that loyalty thin. A hardbound, preferably first edition copy of Colfer's The Supernaturalist would have been easy to find had his usual contact for rare books not vanished off of the face of the Internet.

Perhaps they shouldn't have been peddling those textbooks.

He opened maybe his twentieth website in the past hour, the two-second delay it took to load in completely almost making him drum his fingers against his keyboard in annoyance. It was rather late for a school night, and though he had outsourced most of his homework already he did want to actually sleep. At the same time, though, he had a reputation to uphold, a web to keep spinning; one false move and that was that.

Sighing, he took a deep drink of the amber liquid in the glass beside him to quench the sudden fear in his heart; then, emboldened by the warmth pooling in his stomach, got to work once more.

It took Ryan around ten minutes of hard searching before he saw something that caught his eye: a lot simply titled 'Books'. "Huh."

Maybe it was the booze; maybe it was his curiosity. Either way, he clicked on it, reading the one-line description out loud with a raised eyebrow. "'Books that show more, rather than simply telling'? Huh."

By all rights, he should have clicked away; in his experience, sellers who wrote things like that were the sentimental type, prone to haggling too much on things that weren't really worth all that much. This one, though...this one made him want to look through what they were selling.

The fact the first picture was a hardbound copy of Eoin Colfer's The Supernaturalist in seemingly excellent condition was also a factor.

After a bit of preliminary inspection of the pictures for any signs of Photoshop, as well as a background check on the username (they really did seem to be a new one to the scene), he shot the account a PM.

How much for your hardbound copy of The Supernaturalist?
NatalieOffline17 POSTS
The world might be grey but we don't have to be.
Night had long fallen and yet, Ophelia still found herself awake, reorganising her bookshelves. It was a weekly thing that she found herself indulging in, having started this process just last week and realising that she had a lot of books that were repeated. Ophelia found herself chuckling at her mistake, wondering how she could have gotten repeats — she must have loved it a lot, she figured.

Initially, she wanted to do a garage sale but living in an apartment made it difficult to really pull off a proper garage sale. Instead, Lysander had proposed that she should set up an online shop instead and he helped her out, allowing her to sell some other trinkets of her own that she had hoarded over the years. Once in a while, she managed to sell some things but her books were the ones that often remained untouched — not that Ophelia minded; it meant she got to treasure them a little longer before she would have to part with them. She had sorted them out into more interesting categories, rather than the typical genres of mystery, crime, romance... that was so boring!

Being the president of a book club meant she had access to as many books as possible and those rare books were also available. Ophelia had to admit that there was something enjoyable about reading: books provided a world beyond her wildest dreams and if anything, it helped her escape reality, even if it was just for a moment.<p>

Her room itself was her personal library and she relished every second of it. However, she knew that there were books that needed to be passed down to the second generation and to those to needed it, especially if they were not able to afford a brand new copy at some of the local bookstores.

A 'ping' resounded from her laptop and she found a new message waiting for her. Ophelia slid back into her seat, realising that someone has expressed interest in one of her books, especially this particular one.

Six bucks. How keen are you in getting this?

Now, here's the thing about Ophelia: she hoped that she sold the rare books to customers who were willing to treat it with tender loving care, especially when it came to the books that were no longe being published. However, Ophelia knew where to get copies of that very book, mostly through secondhand sales. She was intent on preserving its legacy.

TAGGED // Atticus Ryan
NOTES // Ophelia lives in an apartment, btw!
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