#icons optional

[therapardalis]

“Do I think Caesar was suspicious? I think he had no Ide-ea.”

[tombstcne-blog]

               “ — robert svane, is that you. ” it’s been a month, maybe more, and the reserved warmth in wyatt’s voice is not for nothing. (and he damn well knows it’s robert, too; his voice sits on an even keel because there’s no need to pretend otherwise.) he picks his friends careful as a child picks daisies, sometimes without regard for the state of said flowers but with an attentive devotion, at least at the time of the picking. “ you are somethin like a sight for sore eyes. are we drinking? ” — @thymocosm.

[wolf-children]

Ame dangled precariously over the ledge. His claws scrabbled at rock made slick by rain. The only thing keeping him from sliding down to a no-doubt dangerous if not lethal drop was the fact that his elbows were hooked over the edge. He couldn’t get purchase. And he only had a few seconds before he was doomed to fall.

He had to transform, only then would he have enough grip to pull himself up. But if he shifted, he would loose the hook effect his elbows had gained. It was a terrifying gamble, and the boy felt as though his heart were in his chest. 

He had to do something. And it was now or never.

[therapardalis]

“Never give me a weapon I’m smart enough to modify.”

[therapardalis]

“The border is closed? When did that happen?”

[therapardalis]

“I don’t suppose you could stop that before I have to smack your hands?”

[therapardalis]

“You know something I really hate?” Thera’s eyes darted around the room - trashed furniture, broken glass, an overturned pot-plant that she was going to have to force herself to not pick up - “Is when a place actually is ‘like that when we got here’.”

[therapardalis]

[Open starter]

New York, 1865 …

Five Points was hardly the jewel in anybody’s crown. New York rolled itself out in waves, turning on a dime (or a dollar) between tenements and slums and the sudden grandeur of the houses up along Fifth Avenue.

For herself, Thera was actually coming to prefer the former; Fifth might be cleaner and have actual sidewalks rather than everyone going every which way, but sometimes the ‘class’ was only a veneer. Underneath was the same dirt and dishonor, they could just afford it in a better grade.

And speaking of better grade … she perused the stalls at the market, eyeing the fruit and pastries that were much finer quality than could be had lower down. Spoiling herself, perhaps, but just occasionally that didn’t do any harm ...