(no subject)

[futures_of_ash]

Rachel is in the bar, slowly stretching in the rafters. The feel of muscles moving under whole, undamaged skin is something that makes her smile. And, for a wonder, she's actually not wearing spandex or torn jeans...no. She's wearing a small work out bra, rippling scars showing in breathtaking patterns everytime she bends her back.

It's a tale of pain and agony each time the light shifts over the slick skin...

Perhaps that's why she's in the rafters. She hates to bother people.

[Alas, the computer is being stolen from me. Open to slowtags of course]

Comments

[futures_of_ash]

[Ach, I keep missing you by moments don't I? And falling behind on slowtimes as well...apologies!]

Rachel lifts her head at the movement in the rafter with her, and isn't at all suprised by a crayon creation. She's seen far stranger in her time...though it does look lonely. A wave of a finger and a knowing smile, and the single singing voice is joined by a small chorus...

Then the small garners her attention "Yes" she agreed simply.

[http://users.livejournal.com/_purple_crayon/]

Harold looks in amazement. "Ooooooooooh."

He draws some butterflies which flutter up to Rachel.

[futures_of_ash]

And she adds flame colors to their wings, and great curling attenaes of light so they can navigate better. She even colors inside his lines, here a touch of star heart blue, there coal's red...

But still his butterflies.

[http://users.livejournal.com/_purple_crayon/]

He gasps and stares.

Then laughs and claps.
"'gain!"

He thinks.
Soon the air is filled with twinkly faeries, swirling, twirling and dancing in the air.

[futures_of_ash]

Ah, faeries are something special, no need to paint them at all...no, but they start trailing sparkles and colored dust.

And faeries also tend to be mischievious...laughing and plotting to sweep up and tangle in Rachel's hair...

Or sneaking behind Harold to tickle his ears...