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Entry tags:
[closed]
CHARACTERS: Ilde & Murphy
WHERE: Station 72
WHEN: Day :036
SUMMARY: Hey-o.
WARNINGS: N/A, will update as necessary.
[ She had only left the Station for a few days, and already in her absence another clutch of eggs had hatched. She had greeted them on the platform. Like each clutch, they were strange and disparate, wide-eyed, sullen with the magnitude of their choices. She was used to presenting herself to them -- It does not feel so long ago that she was introducing herself to John on the Bearings' rooftop.
She feels him as he nears the Station; a low familiar murmuring she does not immediately place. 'A change in the wind', as sayings went. Even in the burned world they had such superstitions, such omens. By the time he is nearing their hangar, she is more certain of who has returned.
A surprise. No one else has deemed it necessary to return, too busy with their silly side quest. But then, did she particularly wish to speak with any of them? Would she have even bothered to leave her garden.
She does so, for John. Her haphazard curls slung low at her neck by a strip of tough fabric, dirt on her hands and knees and up her shins. She's only just noticing this as she follows his trail through the halls after him, brushing off her hands absentmindedly. ]
John. Is everything alright?
[ She can't really think of any other reason he'd have come back here, on his own. ]
WHERE: Station 72
WHEN: Day :036
SUMMARY: Hey-o.
WARNINGS: N/A, will update as necessary.
[ She had only left the Station for a few days, and already in her absence another clutch of eggs had hatched. She had greeted them on the platform. Like each clutch, they were strange and disparate, wide-eyed, sullen with the magnitude of their choices. She was used to presenting herself to them -- It does not feel so long ago that she was introducing herself to John on the Bearings' rooftop.
She feels him as he nears the Station; a low familiar murmuring she does not immediately place. 'A change in the wind', as sayings went. Even in the burned world they had such superstitions, such omens. By the time he is nearing their hangar, she is more certain of who has returned.
A surprise. No one else has deemed it necessary to return, too busy with their silly side quest. But then, did she particularly wish to speak with any of them? Would she have even bothered to leave her garden.
She does so, for John. Her haphazard curls slung low at her neck by a strip of tough fabric, dirt on her hands and knees and up her shins. She's only just noticing this as she follows his trail through the halls after him, brushing off her hands absentmindedly. ]
John. Is everything alright?
[ She can't really think of any other reason he'd have come back here, on his own. ]
no subject
Rest well, John.
[ He may be right, she'd prefer it if he wasn't. ]