When she hadn't been in class or at work this week, Hoshi had been in her room studying Sanskrit. After a short breather last night, she came back to her room and worked through the night.

Finally feeling like she had mastered the art of writing in a dead language, Hoshi took a step back and admired her work. There were sheets of paper everywhere covered in Sanskrit characters. They were tacked up to the walls, the door, the mirror, the desks, and spread out all over the extra bed.

Now she needed a new challenge, preferably a spoken language this time.

The door, if you could find it among all the paper, was closed.

[Establishy as it's a linkdrop, but the post can be open because I'm bored scratch that, as the laptop has decided that it doesn't want to play nice.]

Hoshi stumbled back to her room from Caritas, feeling buzzed but very, very good. This place was still so incredibly boring, but liquor took care of that and at least she had a private room. Maximilian must be good for something, she thought.

She even had a replicator, even though this model seemed a bit primitive. "Tequila," she requested, and the replicator provided her with a bottle.

[Door and post are so very open! closed as I'm going to bed.]

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itsjustlanguage

January 2015

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