Re: In Memoriam [2c/?]
anonymous
June 11 2010, 09:15:20 UTC
“It’s going to rain soon,” Francis insisted; beckoning his so-called friend away from the windows so that he could draw down the shutters before the stinging rain started to pelt them.
“I hate the rain,” Arthur moved like a cat, grumpily stalking away from the patched up windows
He threw himself onto a pile of dirty, moth-eaten cushions and lay still, entranced by the dirt on the ceiling and wondering how those stains got there.
Francis locked the windows and pulled down the surrogated metal shutters.
“I had a date with Mary too. Ah, such is life!” he moaned with every tug.
Arthur made some vague sort of moan as he stretched and sat up again.
“You really hate the rain, don’t you?”
“It makes me restless,” he grunted, getting to his feet and pacing around to prove his point.
Francis sighed for his friend, sat down on the vacated cushion pile, and took out a small silver case full of sticky paper and bitter-tasting leaves.
“Well such is life,” he rolled the leaves in the paper and sealed them with his spit.
Arthur grunted - perhaps in agreement - while he moved around restlessly, and heard the distant wail of sirens ringing throughout the slums, warning of the oncoming rain.
Re: In Memoriam [2c/?]
anonymous
June 11 2010, 10:22:52 UTC
DIESELPUNK!?!? EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE- *explodes* This random fangirling anon has a deep, deep love for all things steam/cyber/dieselpunk-y AND for dystopias and AH MY GOD. I LOVE YOU ALREADY. Stalking this like Belarus stalks Russia, except less creepy and more adoring. If that's possible.
*builds homestead on this tab*
Captcha: websters at; which would be so much more appropriate if this was a cyberpunk dystopia but it is still a win!captcha. Also, I think captcha knows my comments before I type them. O__O
“It’s going to rain soon,” Francis insisted; beckoning his so-called friend away from the windows so that he could draw down the shutters before the stinging rain started to pelt them.
“I hate the rain,” Arthur moved like a cat, grumpily stalking away from the patched up windows
He threw himself onto a pile of dirty, moth-eaten cushions and lay still, entranced by the dirt on the ceiling and wondering how those stains got there.
Francis locked the windows and pulled down the surrogated metal shutters.
“I had a date with Mary too. Ah, such is life!” he moaned with every tug.
Arthur made some vague sort of moan as he stretched and sat up again.
“You really hate the rain, don’t you?”
“It makes me restless,” he grunted, getting to his feet and pacing around to prove his point.
Francis sighed for his friend, sat down on the vacated cushion pile, and took out a small silver case full of sticky paper and bitter-tasting leaves.
“Well such is life,” he rolled the leaves in the paper and sealed them with his spit.
Arthur grunted - perhaps in agreement - while he moved around restlessly, and heard the distant wail of sirens ringing throughout the slums, warning of the oncoming rain.
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*builds homestead on this tab*
Captcha: websters at; which would be so much more appropriate if this was a cyberpunk dystopia but it is still a win!captcha. Also, I think captcha knows my comments before I type them. O__O
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