Jul 27, 2016
What are you doing in my room?
“They caught us. We have to get out of town, now.”
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from France
seen from Malaysia
seen from Italy
seen from China
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from T1
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Belgium
seen from China
seen from T1
seen from Austria
seen from Türkiye
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
What are you doing in my room?
“They caught us. We have to get out of town, now.”
❀ - A bouquet of flowers
[bestows upon her a fuck tonne of sunflowers[
💒 for the toast my muse would give at your muse’s wedding. (hit me with those dank memes)
“...and of course, now you two will embark on the great adventure that is married life. An adventure because there will always be new things to discover about each other, and also because from what I’ve noticed with you two, neither of you know what in the world you’re doing or where you’re going. But anyway, at the risk of being an utter cliche, it’s not about the destination, it’s the journey, and I know that you two will have a fulfilling one. Bon voyage.”
👪 for what my muse would say to your muse’s child about them.
Okay. So rules for visiting Aunt Elisa. One, do not be rough with the small creatures. Aunt Elisa will scold Mama.Two, Da, Aunt Elisa can heal...but let us not have a repeat of the steak knife and bleach incident from last time. You nearly gave Mama a heart attack and I had to buy Aunt Elisa a new rug.
Three, NO. You are not allowed to beg Aunt Elisa to bring you to the casino. You cannot legally claim the prize money!
And Four....please, PLEASE, do not think about rude things just to get her gander. It is not nice.
Get it?
Got it?
...
Good.
Elisa
@cardsandthoughts
We spoke of one, now here! The other! Mystic might and warbling color. Glint ahead ones vitreous (the aqueous sort). Quite a necessity, in fact. In clever hands come clever songs. Some sharp sort of sense come and gone. A brush with one of five- and a brush of memory. Please remember: Mercy gives and takes.
[this russian is rap, rap, rapping on @cardsandthoughts door] [has a box under her arm]
cardsandthoughts replied to your post:[Hasn’t read or heard any word of case files, so... Well you look like a wet hedgehog -
Ok well here's a big bowl of little ol’ fuck you
I would like a case file on Anya, if it's not too much trouble!
It was raining and she was fine with that. Rain meant her sense of smell worked better, the moisture in the air lubricating scent receptors, making it easier to track people and things through the dismal weather. Aside from that, she just like the cool breeze and the sound of rain pitter-pattering on her umbrella.
Her dog was less than thrilled. His old bones disliked the change in weather. It made all his joints ache. She knew this and tried to make him stay home...but he was stubborn beast, much more stubborn than any other animal she owned, and refused to comply. She watched with a mothers worry as he trundled along beside her, paws dragging across the wet side walk.
Her thoughts drifted for a time. Words and thoughts passing through her, colliding and forming poems and articles...she stopped when the leash grew taught. She hadn’t noticed her companion had stopped. He stood a short distance behind her, staring into the dark alley.
Instinctively, her nostrils flared, trying to pick up the scent of whatever had drawn the canines attention. She could detect no hostile intent, no whiff of bloodied steel or expended gunpowder.
What she could smell was stale tobacco, old liquor, dried blood, and the stench of something unwashed.
Before she could recognize what she was doing she had stepped into the alley. By the time her mind had caught up with her feet she was standing in front of the scent.
Huddled by the dumpster, small and barely shaking, sat a child in clothing so big that it made her look frail...o perhaps she was. Certainly, she was malnourished.
Anya extended her arm, the rain pouring full force onto her head, as the umbrella sheltered the child instead. It took a full minute for them to look up, eyes dull and hopeless, face filthy with dirt.
When Anya exited the alley again her dog was closer to her side and her umbrella was once again above her head. In arms she held the gangly bundle, trying to ignore how light they were.
She would always have a soft spot for strays.