It had been a long day. Contrary to the sterotyped image of the average woman, Charlie<em>hated</em>shopping. She had to spend the day downtown, scouring through the used book stores that were off the beaten path, often ill-lit and dusty-smelling. She thought she'd have sneezed her head off eventually. But luck came her way shortly after lunch, where she stumbled upon a rather silly sounding shop named Carl Conrad Coreander's. If it weren't for the tomes displayed - or stacked rather - in what could be seen of the window she would have passed it by but now, looking at the ornate tome currently in her hands, she was certainly glad she didn't.<br/><br/>The book in question was bound in thick leather and cracked in some places, though it held up overall. The writing on the cover had long since worn off but when she looked inside, she found pages upon pages of diagrams and paragraphs written in some strange tongue. That alone wasn't so much of use to her, but to the side margin on several sheets was a shorthand pronunciation guide. She knew enough about typing to be able to read that one off and she chuckled as she ran through a few lines in her head.<em>"Well... that seems spooky-sounding enough to do the job."</em>She thought, shutting the book with a satisfying thud and then consequently coughing a fit from the dust that kicked up.<br/><br/>Carl himself looked up from his perch across the room, his owl-like sideburns sticking out at odd angles while he adjusted his glasses. She caught his eye and laughed nervously, only to fall into coughing once more. "Gra-howmuch... is this one?" She said raspily while she attempted to bring her breath under control. The desired book had no price tagged or written on it so she was left having to ask the cranky-looking man near the register. When he just continued to stare at her for some few seconds, she walked over and handed the book to him. Mr. Coreander appeared just as old and dusty as half the books in his market. Charlie couldn't help feeling somewhat intimidated by the way he leered over her as he took the book in hand. She knew all about owls - her mother collected countless little curios inspired by them - and this man definitely had that entire gimmick going on. Not so little yet vegetarian Charlie couldn't help but feel a bit mousish in his presence.<br/><br/>The man looked the book over and quoted a rather high price to her. The tall red-haired girl raised her eyebrows and rustled through her wallet, pulling out the dollars. It seemed she had just enough.<em>"Thank God the club'll reimburse me..."</em>she thought to herself as she payed the man with a friendly smile. Much to her shock and dismay, he returned it slightly - the look making him even more eerie. She scrunched up her nose and said her goodbyes before hopping gratefully back on her bicycle to head back to study and rehearse.<br/><br/>The Phi Beta Sorority House (http://www.gaf.com/corporate-information/press-room/gaf-logos-graphics-photos/residential-roofing-shingles-logos/designer-shingle-logos/slateline-shingles-logos/Images/SlateLine_Large_House_WeatheredSlate.jpg) was a hell of a place to come  home to. Being that it was gifted by prior Alumni and up-kept by each artistic member who's stayed there since, it certainly was a pretty thing. Each resident had the right to re-paint and decorate their own space, a wall in the living room was filled with shiny signatures of the graduates from the last few years - a smattering of which were now well-known. Some of the girls tended plants - flowers and fruit to use in their programs to give back to the community, but Charlie was very unfortunately cursed with the opposite of a green thumb, making her an extra bit grateful to the other girls who lent a hand to their small gardens.<br/><br/><strong>"Yeah-heh!"</strong>The chubby girl yelled, skidding to a stop by the tiny orchard. The scent said that the apples were coming in, though many were still green that was exactly the way she liked it. Snagging a big sour one, she dropped her bike where she stopped and hopped up the front steps to enter the main hall.<strong>"Tadaima!"</strong>Charlie called out in a rather cutesy tone, using one of the first words she learned in Japanese class this semester to announce her arrival home. Taking a bite out of the fruit she held, she went on without swallowing, "Mm... Need.. salt." She dropped her backpack on a sturdy wooden chair in the main hall before heading to the kitchen to rummage for the seasoning she thought the unripe fruit needed. It was one of her many strange habits.