(no subject)
The Line is especially slow today - dull and dim and lifeless. This is not an overly unusual or surprising sort of thing, but it is a true thing and Lethe is rather entirely bored. The souls do not argue - they do not even do very much at all. It's not that she is one to complain or anything, of course, it is just that she is not really capable of paying very much attention and her eyes are drooping and she is fairly certain that if she yawns one more time her jaw may unhinge entirely. Which, to be completely honest, would be - at the very least - mildly troublesome.
It is somewhere between her thirty-seventh yawn and the thirteenth (at least) time that she has seriously contemplated the merits of tea parties that something very sudden and very red swishes into place in front of her eyes.
She blinks once - and then again, for good measure - and the blur solidifies slightly into what she thinks is a raggedy bouquet.
"Um?"
It is somewhere between her thirty-seventh yawn and the thirteenth (at least) time that she has seriously contemplated the merits of tea parties that something very sudden and very red swishes into place in front of her eyes.
She blinks once - and then again, for good measure - and the blur solidifies slightly into what she thinks is a raggedy bouquet.
"Um?"