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sɪɴɢ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴅs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴇᴡ
ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇʏ sᴛɪʟʟ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄʜᴏᴋᴇ
a dumping ground for all things relating to roleplay and original characters and who knows what else for the ever useless maria (aka 
necklaces). applications, tables, castlists and gosh knows what else!
necklaces). applications, tables, castlists and gosh knows what else!13 December 2011 @ 03:12 am
08 November 2011 @ 04:11 am
| There's a slightly groggy quality to the way that Jerry battles the key into the lock, taking a moment to pinch the bridge of his nose and rub his eyes, stifling a yawn even though there's no one to see him in the empty corridor. Old habits still die hard, even when you're feeling a little worse for wear following a long trans-atlantic flight, something he's never be able to get used to, regardless of the fact that he's never doubted how worthwhile each trip has been. He smiles to himself, though, when the key finally finds where it's meant to go; it's a symbol of something fitting perfectly. Despite the fact that he's used it many times over the past few months, after it appeared in his post with no note, no explanation, no nothing, just a little red ribbon tied neatly around it, there's still something special about the act of opening this door - Teagan's door. The ribbon was all he had needed. A little corny, of course, but then she had learned from the best. She told him on a fairly regular basis that he'd practically written the book on corny. |
30 September 2011 @ 02:57 am
| Every so often, she feels a distinct sense of emptiness in London. It's ridiculous, of course, considering that the city seems to be alive at all hours of the day and night alike, but she can't help the feeling sometimes. It creeps up on her after an evening out with friends, returning to silent, still apartment, characterised by the light, woody scent of furniture that has never lost its newness and never become her own, by the soft scuff of her shoes and the clink of keys on the sideboard. It catches her in the mornings, in the lull between night and dawn, when she wakes without warning and stares for what always seems like an eternity through the gap in her curtains, watching the sky slowly lighten in the distance, delicate and precise. ( It is a morning like this when Teagan rises, feet slipping across a cold, varnished wood floor as she slinks out of her room.Collapse ) |
22 September 2011 @ 08:25 pm
12 September 2011 @ 05:11 pm
10 September 2011 @ 12:34 am