[open] somebody's ringin' the bell.
Who: vespaaaa Haruko, and open to all.
Where: Riiight near the end of Ingles trail, outside the public library.
When: The crack of mid-afternoon.
Rating: PG for now?
Summary: She woke up in Discedo. She doesn't seem to mind yet.
the log:
No strong sunlight, no beating rain, not even a harsh breeze had visited the particular spot where the alien was slumped in the gutter. What could be called a gutter- the separation between pavement and slightly-lower pavement that served as a pillow. Strange dreams involving bright lights, sharks and being prodded swum about in her subconscious, but nothing real to touch or break, no sweet promise of a free breakfast existed; and so, nothing to react to in her heavy sleep.
With no material reason to stir awake, Haruko had lain in the gutter from dawn to afternoon, splayed out face-down on the stone and unconscious, feeling no warmth from a nearing sun. What finally poked through to her- literally- was the distinct hard shapes pressing into her ribs beneath her, feeling more angular with every in-breath she took. A yellow eye flicked open, glanced around at floor-level, narrowed... she took action.
The offending object she seized by the neck and tried to wrench out from under her was none other than her darling guitar. "You're the worst roommate." Haruko grumbled at it nasally, still in the groggy stages of waking up, and yanked, sending her rolling sideways across the paving, but clutching her darling Rickenbacker. Not even a trace of questioning her situation was in her mind; she'd woken up in worse places, after all.
At least she was clothed this time, if the sweep of fabric on stone was any hint. Wiggling her fingers, she could feel her riding gloves. Quickly, she cast them off beside her body still curled on the road and took fingers to the guitar. There was no need for an amplifier as she loudly struck out the thick, dull bass line of 'Let 'em In' to an imaginary audience, comparitively half-assed lyrics mumbled into paving stones. Maybe she could have a go at standing up after a verse or two.
"Do may'a faverr... Open th'door, let them iiiin..."
Where: Riiight near the end of Ingles trail, outside the public library.
When: The crack of mid-afternoon.
Rating: PG for now?
Summary: She woke up in Discedo. She doesn't seem to mind yet.
the log:
No strong sunlight, no beating rain, not even a harsh breeze had visited the particular spot where the alien was slumped in the gutter. What could be called a gutter- the separation between pavement and slightly-lower pavement that served as a pillow. Strange dreams involving bright lights, sharks and being prodded swum about in her subconscious, but nothing real to touch or break, no sweet promise of a free breakfast existed; and so, nothing to react to in her heavy sleep.
With no material reason to stir awake, Haruko had lain in the gutter from dawn to afternoon, splayed out face-down on the stone and unconscious, feeling no warmth from a nearing sun. What finally poked through to her- literally- was the distinct hard shapes pressing into her ribs beneath her, feeling more angular with every in-breath she took. A yellow eye flicked open, glanced around at floor-level, narrowed... she took action.
The offending object she seized by the neck and tried to wrench out from under her was none other than her darling guitar. "You're the worst roommate." Haruko grumbled at it nasally, still in the groggy stages of waking up, and yanked, sending her rolling sideways across the paving, but clutching her darling Rickenbacker. Not even a trace of questioning her situation was in her mind; she'd woken up in worse places, after all.
At least she was clothed this time, if the sweep of fabric on stone was any hint. Wiggling her fingers, she could feel her riding gloves. Quickly, she cast them off beside her body still curled on the road and took fingers to the guitar. There was no need for an amplifier as she loudly struck out the thick, dull bass line of 'Let 'em In' to an imaginary audience, comparitively half-assed lyrics mumbled into paving stones. Maybe she could have a go at standing up after a verse or two.
"Do may'a faverr... Open th'door, let them iiiin..."