Snippet #2343327

Brandon had seen the note among his morning meal. Of course he was a curious young man, and most definitely would read the note later, but now, it was time to get some calories into his body. The morning bustle began as the residents of the Complex came to get their breakfast. A couple even said hi to Brandon. He was, in no way, popular. At least, not as massively popular as Marcus. He had friends, and he talked to them daily, but he never had crowds of people doting over him. Which Brandon very much enjoyed. Companionship was a lovely thing, but talk about overdose. The king of the Complex's social circles must have the patience of a god.

After taking a few bites of pancake and egg, Brandon removed a small orange bottle of pills from his pant's pocket. The pills were his medication. Brandon never liked to take the pills, because he knew what they did. The doctors say that Brandon's ability allows him to access around 35 percent of his brain, but that extra percentage is only good for using his ability. It can't retain knowledge, and doesn't get much exercise. The doctors also tell him that if his brain usage was 50 percent, the horrible side-effects would stop. But the meds wouldn't let that happen. They stopped Brandon from accidentally killing himself. Alas, it was his price to pay for his power, and he bared it bravely. Popping two small white pills in his mouth, Brandon takes a gulp of water and forces the medication down. It only takes a few minutes before he can feel his mind dull, just a little, but still noticeable.

Two tables over, Fibi sat, playing in the day's breakfast. The girl always managed to fascinate Brandon. Her eccentricities made her so interesting. And her ability to animate her makeshift creations was just as remarkable, even if the girl did brutally destroy them shortly after their birth. Brandon usually watched her make a mess on her plate most days, as it served to brighten his morning often. Although, he never talked to her. One of these days, he would. Fibi sat up from her art session to read from a small piece of paper. She wasn't being very subtle about it, so Brandon could see that it looked like the slip of paper he'd found. Though, he couldn't hear what Fibi said, as the chatter in the dining room was much too loud.

Rowen eventually came down from her balcony to talk to Fibi. Brandon never really took notice of her, probably because she was trying to keep it that way. All he knew was her name, and that she had very cool wings. The winged girl came over to Fibi, and shortly after, Fibi went straight under the table and began looking for something. An audible thump sounded from the area, and Brandon suppressed a chuckle when she got up, seemingly unfazed. He also followed her gaze to the area over the railing, where Marcus was dumping this week's admirer.

Not caring too much for the drama, Brandon finished his breakfast and sent his tray through the window at the back of the cafeteria. He made his way out into the hall, before the after-meal rush could sweep him through the halls. His destination was the library, to do some research on psychology.

Now, Brandon steps through the halls, rubber soles thumping lightly on the wood floor, heading towards the depository of knowledge. On his way, he passes the chapel. Brandon never understood the concept of religion, a concept which he gleaned from his research. All he knows is that the hope of life after death and the thought of a creator gave people purpose; purpose defines one's outlook on life, therefore, their own psychology. Shaking his head, Brandon passes through the double doors of the library, and heads off to the back, where he could read in peace. Once he sits down in a chair, Brandon pulls the note out, and gives it a read.

Somewhere,
a desert rose blooms

A note so cryptic and poetic it hurt. Sighing, Brandon grabs a stack of books. This little line would be a tough one to crack, but a satisfying challenge none the less. Although, when did they start giving out riddles at meals?