It starts without warning, and then no one can get anywhere near that corner of the library for almost twenty minutes. She's hurling one book after another off the shelves, sobbing and raging incoherently, slamming her hands against the heavy bookcases, against the walls, against the floor.
The first thing is to get the blocks up and the other kids away before the panic spreads; it's only then that Charlie can leave Ted in charge of maintaining the good-mind and approach the corner.
"Zillah," she says quietly, and then has to dodge quickly as a heavy volume flies at her head.
Reddened blue eyes stare wildly at her through strands of tangled dark hair. "They would have the rabbit out of hiding to please the yelping dogs," Zillah snarls, hefting another book. "Do not think I underestimate your great concern."
It's an effort to keep her voice even. "Zillah, whatever it is -- can you tell me? Can we help?"
The glare holds for another moment, then crumples into weeping. "Gone. Gone and -- lords of fire and air and -- no. No. He's gone. They took him -- I am your opus, I am your valuable, the pure gold baby --"
The book falls from her hand and lands in a ruin of spilled pages on the floor, and Charlie closes the distance between them and puts her arms around the sobbing girl.
Zillah's hand fists in Charlie's denim shirt. "So, so, Herr Doktor," she mutters, low and thick. "So, Herr Enemy."
Calming the girl's panic is more important than addressing her own profound unease, Charlie tells herself.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2007-02-05 06:26 pm (UTC)It starts without warning, and then no one can get anywhere near that corner of the library for almost twenty minutes. She's hurling one book after another off the shelves, sobbing and raging incoherently, slamming her hands against the heavy bookcases, against the walls, against the floor.
The first thing is to get the blocks up and the other kids away before the panic spreads; it's only then that Charlie can leave Ted in charge of maintaining the good-mind and approach the corner.
"Zillah," she says quietly, and then has to dodge quickly as a heavy volume flies at her head.
Reddened blue eyes stare wildly at her through strands of tangled dark hair. "They would have the rabbit out of hiding to please the yelping dogs," Zillah snarls, hefting another book. "Do not think I underestimate your great concern."
It's an effort to keep her voice even. "Zillah, whatever it is -- can you tell me? Can we help?"
The glare holds for another moment, then crumples into weeping. "Gone. Gone and -- lords of fire and air and -- no. No. He's gone. They took him -- I am your opus, I am your valuable, the pure gold baby --"
The book falls from her hand and lands in a ruin of spilled pages on the floor, and Charlie closes the distance between them and puts her arms around the sobbing girl.
Zillah's hand fists in Charlie's denim shirt. "So, so, Herr Doktor," she mutters, low and thick. "So, Herr Enemy."
Calming the girl's panic is more important than addressing her own profound unease, Charlie tells herself.
Finding out what triggered this can wait.