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Apr. 24th, 2008 09:52 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
sanguine-supper.livejournal.comEsca.
Inna house (in Toronto).
With a glass of water and a contemplative expression.
:D?
Inna house (in Toronto).
With a glass of water and a contemplative expression.
:D?
Apr. 24th, 2008
sanguine-supper.livejournal.com
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Apr. 24th, 2008 09:57 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
headed4hellWell, I'm runnin’ down the road tryin’ to loosen my load
I got seven men on my mind
There's nothing wrong with a little improvisation. Not to Grace, anyway, since the radio in the police cruiser she'd taken seems to be on the fritz. She's already destroyed ‘Hard to Handle.’ Flicking cigarette ash out her window, she smirks at the long stretch of open road and kicks it up to 95. The engine hums along.
Four that want to own me
Two that want to save me
One says he's a friend of mine.
She's driving south on Interstate 35, toward Kansas City and Wichita. She hasn't run across anyone since Charlie, back in that weird town. There have, however, been some interesting craters in the road that she felt compelled to check out. Grace doesn't know what's going on, but she’s certain of two things: it makes sense to head for Oklahoma City, and this is somehow all Earl’s fault.
Take it eaaaaaaaaaaasy...
I got seven men on my mind
There's nothing wrong with a little improvisation. Not to Grace, anyway, since the radio in the police cruiser she'd taken seems to be on the fritz. She's already destroyed ‘Hard to Handle.’ Flicking cigarette ash out her window, she smirks at the long stretch of open road and kicks it up to 95. The engine hums along.
Four that want to own me
Two that want to save me
One says he's a friend of mine.
She's driving south on Interstate 35, toward Kansas City and Wichita. She hasn't run across anyone since Charlie, back in that weird town. There have, however, been some interesting craters in the road that she felt compelled to check out. Grace doesn't know what's going on, but she’s certain of two things: it makes sense to head for Oklahoma City, and this is somehow all Earl’s fault.
Take it eaaaaaaaaaaasy...
(no subject)
Apr. 24th, 2008 10:19 amhighrisktrader.livejournal.comThe ghost is back. The kitchen is cold again, the insides of the windows frosting up slightly. It's a little like walking into a fridge.
There is -- but only just -- a girl in blue leather and white fur, blue beads in her looped hair, sitting at the table with her hands folded, deep in thought.
There is -- but only just -- a girl in blue leather and white fur, blue beads in her looped hair, sitting at the table with her hands folded, deep in thought.
(no subject)
Apr. 24th, 2008 11:14 amfaithful-slayer.livejournal.comFaith wasn't in love with Hild.
She's not sure she's capable of being in love, and anyway, both of them are a little too practical for that.
Were. In Hild's case, were.
But she was fond of the Valkyrie...cared for her...as a lover, and as a friend.
They burned the bodies, sent them to sea, got Villiers settled in...and now he's sleeping, and Faith is alone in the darkness, carving stakes out of the debris of a building, glad to have something, anything, to take her mind off of...things.
She's supposed to be alone. All Slayers are. She knows this.
Doesn't make it any easier.
She's not sure she's capable of being in love, and anyway, both of them are a little too practical for that.
Were. In Hild's case, were.
But she was fond of the Valkyrie...cared for her...as a lover, and as a friend.
They burned the bodies, sent them to sea, got Villiers settled in...and now he's sleeping, and Faith is alone in the darkness, carving stakes out of the debris of a building, glad to have something, anything, to take her mind off of...things.
She's supposed to be alone. All Slayers are. She knows this.
Doesn't make it any easier.
(no subject)
Apr. 24th, 2008 02:42 pmwill_scarlettWill is in one of the fields outside, doing his best to get the farm running again.
The weather is nice so his shirt is off and it feels good to have the sun on his back though he's still stiff.
The weather is nice so his shirt is off and it feels good to have the sun on his back though he's still stiff.
(no subject)
Apr. 24th, 2008 08:43 pmsinfulspeeder.livejournal.comOne moment, Edwin is tearing through the steppes...
...and the next, he (and his horse) find themselves in very unfamiliar territory. Huxley pins his ears back and snorts at the sudden flash, rearing slightly, while Edwin fights to remain in the saddle as he looks around. "A storm?" he asks himself, looking up a sky that seems anything but stormy. He starts as his attention goes to the rest of the landscape-it certainly looks dry enough, but this...isn't Euloria.
His horse, meanwhile, recovers quite a bit more quickly and begins to move along at a quick trot, apparently not bothered by the fact that he's trotting on pavement rather dirt. Edwin just hangs on, still staring at his surroundings, particularly at the sign that he passes by as Huxley continues onwards-Snakewater, Montana - Pop. 21,500.
At least, that's what it says underneath the scratch marks covering the population number. Beside the former number, someone's painted 15.
Edwin is fairly certain that isn't a terribly good omen.
...and the next, he (and his horse) find themselves in very unfamiliar territory. Huxley pins his ears back and snorts at the sudden flash, rearing slightly, while Edwin fights to remain in the saddle as he looks around. "A storm?" he asks himself, looking up a sky that seems anything but stormy. He starts as his attention goes to the rest of the landscape-it certainly looks dry enough, but this...isn't Euloria.
His horse, meanwhile, recovers quite a bit more quickly and begins to move along at a quick trot, apparently not bothered by the fact that he's trotting on pavement rather dirt. Edwin just hangs on, still staring at his surroundings, particularly at the sign that he passes by as Huxley continues onwards-Snakewater, Montana - Pop. 21,500.
At least, that's what it says underneath the scratch marks covering the population number. Beside the former number, someone's painted 15.
Edwin is fairly certain that isn't a terribly good omen.
(no subject)
Apr. 24th, 2008 10:16 pmbroodingbacchus.livejournal.comSo there really wasn't much he could do with the available food supply. A close search revealed cans of things here and there that showed some promise, but the long and the short of it is that post-apocalyptic Montreal is not Terre d'Ange and Imriel nó Montrève is not a master chef.
Still, he scrounged up an adequate meal. Practically miraculous, under the circumstances. And more importantly, a table with an actual white tablecloth, and plates. Forks, even.
All of which is to say that Imri looks fairly self-satisfied as he lounges in his (slightly wobbly) chair waiting for Villiers.
(He even went all out and found them an empty building with its own generator, so the lights still work. Candles are only romantic if you don't have to live with them on a daily basis.)
Still, he scrounged up an adequate meal. Practically miraculous, under the circumstances. And more importantly, a table with an actual white tablecloth, and plates. Forks, even.
All of which is to say that Imri looks fairly self-satisfied as he lounges in his (slightly wobbly) chair waiting for Villiers.
(He even went all out and found them an empty building with its own generator, so the lights still work. Candles are only romantic if you don't have to live with them on a daily basis.)