A Tea Party? For you!
Who: Morticia Addams and Dawn (open)
What: A tea party! Morticia wants to talk about her lovely pets, and Dawn needs to explain these beautiful poka mon
Where: House 9, Floor one!
When: Monday, afternoon!
Warnings: None! I'd like to leave the thread with Dawn closed for the moment, but Morticia's door is open and she's clearly dreaming up food, so fellow housemates are welcome to drop by and investigate!
(I tend to write prose, but brackets are cool. I'll match whatever!)
Morticia was not a woman who did not land on her feet. In fact, she was a woman who almost always landed on her feet, because landing on any other body part would have been unladylike (unless in the presence of her husband and no one else). Waking up in a strange world where she could dream up almost anything she desired was certainly not the worst position she could have found herself in, and while she missed her beautiful children and husband dearly, she was content that they were being well looked after by the part of herself that was not in this dream, and she would eventually return to them, of course.
It was not an option to remain trapped here forever. She did not even consider it.
But while this was not a terrible position, it certainly wasn't perfect. Her apartment was simply unliveable when she'd arrived in it, and only after two weeks of solid work did she feel comfortable with company. It had taken that long to get rid of the horrifically soft mattress and replace it with a nice nail bed, paint the walls a deep grey, hang thick black drapes that would cut out all but the most determined sunlight, and of course call up her favourite chair. She had even managed to dream up a copy of her vulture, Desdemona, who sat on a stand by the bed and watched her every movement. It wasn't home, and it lacked the musty smell she always found comforting (and how exactly did one dream up a smell, anyway?) but it was cosy and dark and inviting, and that was perfectly suitable for now.
She'd called up a second chair for Dawn, and after a moment's thought a large cushion for Dawn's Helia.She wasn't sure what the creature would prefer, but it was best to be polite about these things. Tea was set on the table between the two chairs, with a full service in sterling silver. She'd even called up newt pate and yak cakes for the occasion, though she really wished she'd had the space to properly dream up a kitchen, because dreamed food simply did not taste the same. (The idea that food cooked from dreamed ingredients might be similarly bland had not occurred to her.)
Now all that was needed was her guest.
What: A tea party! Morticia wants to talk about her lovely pets, and Dawn needs to explain these beautiful poka mon
Where: House 9, Floor one!
When: Monday, afternoon!
Warnings: None! I'd like to leave the thread with Dawn closed for the moment, but Morticia's door is open and she's clearly dreaming up food, so fellow housemates are welcome to drop by and investigate!
(I tend to write prose, but brackets are cool. I'll match whatever!)
Morticia was not a woman who did not land on her feet. In fact, she was a woman who almost always landed on her feet, because landing on any other body part would have been unladylike (unless in the presence of her husband and no one else). Waking up in a strange world where she could dream up almost anything she desired was certainly not the worst position she could have found herself in, and while she missed her beautiful children and husband dearly, she was content that they were being well looked after by the part of herself that was not in this dream, and she would eventually return to them, of course.
It was not an option to remain trapped here forever. She did not even consider it.
But while this was not a terrible position, it certainly wasn't perfect. Her apartment was simply unliveable when she'd arrived in it, and only after two weeks of solid work did she feel comfortable with company. It had taken that long to get rid of the horrifically soft mattress and replace it with a nice nail bed, paint the walls a deep grey, hang thick black drapes that would cut out all but the most determined sunlight, and of course call up her favourite chair. She had even managed to dream up a copy of her vulture, Desdemona, who sat on a stand by the bed and watched her every movement. It wasn't home, and it lacked the musty smell she always found comforting (and how exactly did one dream up a smell, anyway?) but it was cosy and dark and inviting, and that was perfectly suitable for now.
She'd called up a second chair for Dawn, and after a moment's thought a large cushion for Dawn's Helia.She wasn't sure what the creature would prefer, but it was best to be polite about these things. Tea was set on the table between the two chairs, with a full service in sterling silver. She'd even called up newt pate and yak cakes for the occasion, though she really wished she'd had the space to properly dream up a kitchen, because dreamed food simply did not taste the same. (The idea that food cooked from dreamed ingredients might be similarly bland had not occurred to her.)
Now all that was needed was her guest.