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watersuggestion

Warm summer rains are one of the most beautiful things in the world

watersuggestion

There’s magic in every shade of blue

She watches.

Voices crackle, fried from hours of recording. Spoken word pops in their confinement, throats cleared to mask the vulnerability. Eyes blink shut longer and longer, drooping with the effort to stay open. Yawns shudder their way through many of her colleagues, both young and old. She swears someone is sleeping while standing up.

It has been a long day at the studio, and everyone is showing w e a r . Therefore, Azura’s suggestion wasn’t one that many were too surprised by.

She dons her shades, unwinding the hairband from her wrist after the glasses are perched atop her nose. She twists her hair tightly, forming a ballerina’s bun, tying it firmly to her head. A paperboy cap is placed over the mound, large enough to conceal. A satchel swings on her shoulder.

‘ That would be... One milk tea, a s’mores frappuccino, a tall coffee no sugar no cream, an apple juice... ’

Azura checks the order, marking each person’s order with their name. She then turns to the boy behind her, lifting the notepad and pencil she’d hastily scribbled orders on. Her tone is soft.

‘ What about you, Percy? Is there any- thing you’d like for me to grab you? ’

@sonofiustitia

#((I hope this is okay ! I fizzled at the end but I can always rewrite a portion if you don't know how to waltz into it! )#♩. in the clearing you can hear them resonate; flowing conversation echoes in the boundless breeze (logs)#sonofiustitia

((While I work on Per/cy’s reply, please like this post for an In/telStu/dios starter !)

#♩. a bluebird's song has never sounded so shrill (ooc)

A haphazard misplacement paves opportunistic roads for accidents aplenty. Whether the binding in a tome unsticks mid-scene or a collection of background items collapses onto the head of a colleague, misfortune is b o u n d to happen in a studio so collectively filled day by day.

Today's mishap? Her Blessed Lance.

It wasn't unusual for Azura to lose the prop. However tall it was, it had a tendency to become shadowed behind the larger weaponry. Cots for scenes could easily mask its shape, if it was to be dropped beside one, and bookshelves were typically large enough to avoid protrusion of the lance's tip. Even when she had the prop within sight, a single misstep could cause it to fly from her grip, or a lack of energy chipping away the coats of paint as she dragged it across the floor.

It's why she couldn't blame Marx for a second after he had approached her, apology inherent in his gaze. Her weapon was in both hands, cleaved straight through the middle. Before he could elaborate on its state, she held a finger up to silence him and cleared her throat. A smile hid itself in the corners of her mouth.

' Things happen for a reason. There is no need to say sorry.

...But if you still feel obligated to, I am partial to frappuccinos. '

@ofmarx

#♩. in the clearing you can hear them resonate; flowing conversation echoes in the boundless breeze (logs)#ofmarx

theesedreamsofmine

#♩. the shutter blinks; the afterimage catches flight; my breath is stolen (pictures)

birdsong

hush. hush. it is early morning. all is silent, save the cheep, the peeping, the incessant chirps. a lone baby chick nuzzles its face in a thorny nest. they open their beak, and sing, sing--

they are b e g g i n g to be heard.

hush. be still. the curtain opens. she grips the microphone in cold palms. they are sweating. she is still. she opens her mouth, and sings, sings--

is anyone listening?

#♩. in the clearing you can hear them resonate; flowing conversation echoes in the boundless breeze (logs)#♩. the shutter blinks; the afterimage catches flight; my breath is stolen (pictures)

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