Anna was out.

Her first words as she walks in the door of the apartment are, "Ever wanted a potted plant?"

Dreamer blinks.

The small, dusty cave in which she sits does not get any larger or less dusty.

Sighing, she gets up, dusts herself off (not, on the whole, successfully) and goes to peer out the cave entrance.

"...Oh sweet fuck," she says, ducking back inside with wide eyes - just barely in time to hide from the swooping dive of an eagle the size ( Read more... )

"Sor', are you sure about this? Don't vacations cost something?"

"Not," says Ensorra smokily, leaning in and gesturing with her wineglass, "to people like us, ma belle cherie."

"I'm not like you." Sighing, Anna (Dreamer, she has to remember to call herself that, using her live name is a sign she can't let go) runs a hand through her hair. "I'm ( Read more... )