(no subject)

[sunbaked_baker]

At this point, the gradual lightening of the gloom can only charitably be called 'dawn.' Rae is already on her second circuit of the lake by the time the day reaches peak... for lack of a better word, brightness. She can't run as fast as she would like, but knows not to try it - the snow hides uneven terrain even when packed down by the passing of many feet, and the cold air hurts her lungs. She is a bright spot of color among the winter-grey landscape, already tired but continuing to push herself. To act, and not think.

Only on her way back, nearing the Caribbean inlet, does she give in to her exhaustion and slow to a walk. Trudging on the sand of the suddenly tropical beach is no easier than walking in snow; it makes her shoes feel heavy, and the warmth makes her jacket unwelcome. The thin beam of winter sun is very welcome, however, and a fallen palm tree makes a serviceable bench to sit on. Even after she has caught her breath, Rae lingers. She has no reason to hurry back to the bar, in any case.

She soon sheds her jacket and kicks off her shoes and socks, digging her toes into the warm sand and leaning back, lifting her head to face the sun. She watches the backlit shadows play across the inside of her closed eyelids, trying to focus on the here and now, and not think.


(ooc: Mun must run an errand, but will return! <333)

(no subject)

[herr_bookman]

Writing is sacred, and--as in all things sacred--there are requirements.

Paper made from ten-year-old reeds. Ink, in a seven-to-three ratio of blue to black. A pen with the feather of a white swan who has been in the sea. Purifying the body with water each morning. And a three-day initiation rite involving no sleep or food, just complete inaction--one which Autor partook of over and over in a desperate effort to communicate with the oak tree. To be chosen.

Rites which consumed his life--a life he probably didn't have to live in isolation and fear if he's just some side character in the Story.

The boy's next thought makes him nearly choke on bile. What if I showed up in the narrative for the first time when I introduced myself to Fakir? Does everything revolve around him? Autor wonders if he himself even had a name--and what his name means now.

He's not an Author, that's for sure. Clearly the boy was composed of useless, throwaway lines--a filler character, and completely purposeless.

Why am I never good enough? he thinks, bitterly holding back tears. He bounces between anger and sadness quickly enough to make himself dizzy. I taught him everything he knows... and then, she also... and what I did to Rae...

He couldn't even find her today to apologize. He wonders if she's avoiding him.

The rejected boy sits curled up on the floor in a corner of the library, staring at his heirloom quill. He doesn't even remember coming downstairs.

(no subject)

[protect_and_survey]

Jemma was presented with a box of colored pencils with her lunch, so she decided that clearly this is a sign that she should take the afternoon off and make colored drawing of the firefish. She's at a table, carefully shading what she assumes was a male and female pair (she's calling it that, if someone can prove otherwise she'd love to see it) into her notebook.

Forge Post

[ostro_goth]

Teja is in the forge, slowly polishing a silver goblet with gold inlay that is both simple and lovely, with intricate Celtic knotwork around the rim

The cats are sleeping by the fire, and little Egil is playing with his wooden play-forge.

The doors are wide open, and clay cups are ready, as is tea.

Teja is open for business.



[[OOC: Forge post -- friends, strangers, customers and rubber-neckers all equally welcome.]]

(no subject)

[is_the_motion]

[oom: Liquor and poor judgement. Warning for nudity and discussion of sex.]

It has not been one of Bonnie's more sensible evenings.

At present she is in a corner of the bar, gingerly applying a bag of ice to her right ankle, which has swollen up rather impressively.

If she finds herself the centre of gossip Monday morning at school, someone is going to find all the wheels removed from their car when it comes to home time.