indignantinglater replied to your post: doze!
HAA HAA HAA!
yoUr important and valUable opinion has been noted and dUly ignored.

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indignantinglater replied to your post: doze!
HAA HAA HAA!
yoUr important and valUable opinion has been noted and dUly ignored.
It's a bad day to be of the Felt, and it's a bad day to be a cherub. But then again, what day isn't?
At least she has someone to play punching bag tonight.
Boy howdy, does she need it.
Just as they'd agreed upon, she makes it down to the factory district as the clocks creep towards ten at night. The darkness is a blessing, hiding how hastily she tidied up her disguise before driving down here. A slow-boiling anger has been bubbling away in her chest all day - at her father, at Scratch, at the Crew (so unable to act with any sort of sporting decency). And towards her brother.
If she can't right those wrongs, then she can at least pummel her anger into Caliborn's begging-to-be-punched face.
The spot she's chosen is perfect for a brawl: a small lot nestled between a group of buildings that'll help shield them from anyone who might be passing by, unlikely as that'll be. Best to keep the precaution anyway.
Leaning against the side of her Ford, she swings the keys around a finger, waiting impatiently.
> Resist the urge to scour the city to find your brother and smack some sense in to him, the self-absorbed prat.
> He is.
> Without a shred of doubt.
> A complete and utter bastard.
Kids.
> Goddamn, why are the cherub kids suddenly walking back into your life?
> Doesn't matter. You're smiling for the first time in a while. You don't even feel like complaining about being cut off from the whiskey. They might not be your kids but they come pretty damn close--hell, you sure care more than their actual Father does.
★ [throws star at you]
ah, eclair.
slick has no reason to dislike him currently, save for his general hatred of everyone in principle. and the fact that he reblogged leather-clad beefcakes is a definite point in his favor.
slick watches his interactions with handy like a hawk. he’s very protective of his moirail, and if he sees or hears that clair has upset her in any way, he can expect to have a vicious wraith come down on him like the wrath of god.
==> Make your way uptown.
There was light rain outside, and you twirled your umbrella a little as the pitter-patter rhythmically drummed against its surface. You walked swiftly, your long black skirt flowing behind you, with your deep red overcoat swaddling your body. You knew the way to the cemetery, however it wasn't often that you went that way. Due to this, you made sure to take in the scenery, as you never knew how many chances you would get to come out here in the future. Today's visit to the cemetery was not made on a simple whim, however. It was to meet with someone in particular. Clair. You honestly had no idea why he had invited you out here, and frankly, it had you a bit concerned. Usually Clair's tone was less... well, whatever it was. Reserved? You weren't sure. You tried not to think about it, however, as it was only going to make you even more disconcerted. You didn't want to dampen your trip out before it had even really started. Besides, you could be concerned about nothing, after all. You approached the gate to the funerary grounds some time later, hair blowing gently in your face as you stood underneath the street lamp. Pushing your bangs out of the way, you looked around for your friend as your gripped your umbrella's handle. Perhaps you were a tad early? Or maybe waiting in the wrong spot?