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Dec. 19th, 2009 @ 08:37 pm
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There is a child in the Nexus. Not an unusual thing but she is frowning as she wanders on and looks for a place to sit. Finally she sees a big chair and at a half hobble climbs up and sits down with a huff. She glances around then nervously fiddles with her coat before deciding it's perfectly okay to unzip it.
"I got into an argument at school with some girls. I've never hidden the fact I'm adopted. I'm proud of my family. But... But. They were very mean. I didn't do anything wrong. But they said my real Mommy and Daddy couldn't have loved me if I wasn't with them."
She blinks back anger. It is an unwritten rule with her that people don't get to talk badly about her family. She loves everyone and is well aware of what happened so long ago and other people don't get to know that stuff, just family. "I should be talking to Mama about this. But how do you tell people they're stuck up jerks and should just leave you alone? I know there's lots of not nice people out there... And dumb ones too. How do you get them to leave you alone?"
She starts to tug at the ends of her hair. She knows that given her luck and what little she remembers about the Nexus Mama is going to find out about this real fast. She also isn't supposed to call people jerks even if they're real mean so she is expecting Mama to appear at any minute to give her a stern look. Mama is magical that way. |
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Dec. 19th, 2009 @ 09:02 pm
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Dec. 19th, 2009 @ 08:09 pm
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Dec. 19th, 2009 @ 06:58 pm
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Dec. 18th, 2009 @ 10:53 pm
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Dec. 18th, 2009 @ 06:14 pm
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Dec. 18th, 2009 @ 12:01 pm
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In fine literature, there is a reference to vorpal blades. It has often been speculated upon as to what exactly a vorpal blade is, what a vorpal anything is, and whether vorpal is an adjective, a noun, a part of a noun, an onomatopoeia, a political title, or perhaps a popular mixed drink.
There are those who firmly stand by the onomatopoeia theory, and it is to them this sudden heaving noise is dedicated.
Moments later, after a definitive waver in the air, a battered old police call box sort of just appears, littering the floor it appears on with soil and oddly colored bits of grass. Once the noise and fuss have subsided, the door opens, and a cricket batsman emerges, dusting himself off and adjusting the stick of celery attached to his lapel, and steps aside, propping the door open behind him to make way for the fine lady accompanying him this time 'round. He doesn't look at all disoriented or confused, though he looks about him curiously with the air of a newcoming tourist. He regards the sign solemnly and nods- it's far easier to acquiesce to the wishes of a place not riddled with imprisonment and malicious intent.
He takes a moment to think, certain that a question as simple as 'Will someone direct me to the nearest tea room' may not be taken quite as seriously as he'd like it to be. The locals- well, not locals, but similar enough- look quite colorful and diverse, and he fairly itches to go among them and explore.
He's got one! It's a bit more somber than he'd like to introduce himself with, but it's a start. "How would you evaluate yourself after being in a situation where you did unspeakable things to others, but completely against your will?" He seems troubled by this concept, as if it may have recently happened to him.
(( OOC: joint post! :D feat. ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) vicioussweetie )) |
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Dec. 18th, 2009 @ 01:27 pm
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Dec. 18th, 2009 @ 10:33 am
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Dec. 18th, 2009 @ 09:00 am
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Dec. 17th, 2009 @ 10:16 pm
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Dec. 16th, 2009 @ 05:36 pm
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Dec. 15th, 2009 @ 08:18 pm
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