scots_wolf (
scots_wolf) wrote in
milliways_bar2010-12-18 11:35 pm
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Dusk, outside
Urquhart is outside, watching the early sunset.
He's not shooting anything right now. The black fur rug he was making is finished.
Instead, he stands, with a mug of mulled wine in his hands, feet planted deep in the snow, and watches the daylight fade into the odd brownish yellow typical for snow clouds, and then, darkness falling, along with more snow.
It settles on his shoulders and in his hair.
He's not shooting anything right now. The black fur rug he was making is finished.
Instead, he stands, with a mug of mulled wine in his hands, feet planted deep in the snow, and watches the daylight fade into the odd brownish yellow typical for snow clouds, and then, darkness falling, along with more snow.
It settles on his shoulders and in his hair.
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"We mostly pick up rather than actually clean."
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