(no subject)
Who: Leila, Matthew
Where: Room 201.
When: January 11, night.
What: Some people walk into your life. Others climb through windows.
Warnings: None. As of now.
They called this a flashlight.
It, well, flashed light.
Like the lights that the light box controlled, except the flashlight was portable, and the lights on the ceiling weren’t. As a result, the lights on the ceiling were brighter and more convenient, but the flashlight did remind her of fire and close comfort.
Leila still preferred candles, but she did admit that the ceiling lights were extremely convenient. Flashlights, too. And, they had this marvelous contraption called a heater, that was like a fire, but it didn’t involve the actual fire. Though she felt more comfortable with fires, the heater did not need care, nor did it burn out.
She supposed her first night ought to be more memorable than “Day 1: played with studied flashlights,” but they were pretty interesting. It was utterly juvenile, but she was entitled to something.
Flick on, flick off, flick on, flick off - perhaps there was something known as too much fun. Her bored expression never wavered, though. (She’d checked the mirror a few times to make sure she stayed nonchalant. After all, one couldn’t be too safe. In addition, there were now several booby traps around her room, although they were rather weak, as one could only make so many with such limited supplies.) In addition, anything of value had been carefully stowed away in a secret compartment of her own devising.
From the scraping near the windowsill, she assumed that her preparations had not been in vain. Leaning back in the wooden chair, she watched as the sandy-haired man pulled himself through the open window. She kept her expression impassive as she watched him carefully make his way down.
“So you showed up,” she said, feeling a smile tug on her lips.
Where: Room 201.
When: January 11, night.
What: Some people walk into your life. Others climb through windows.
Warnings: None. As of now.
They called this a flashlight.
It, well, flashed light.
Like the lights that the light box controlled, except the flashlight was portable, and the lights on the ceiling weren’t. As a result, the lights on the ceiling were brighter and more convenient, but the flashlight did remind her of fire and close comfort.
Leila still preferred candles, but she did admit that the ceiling lights were extremely convenient. Flashlights, too. And, they had this marvelous contraption called a heater, that was like a fire, but it didn’t involve the actual fire. Though she felt more comfortable with fires, the heater did not need care, nor did it burn out.
She supposed her first night ought to be more memorable than “Day 1: played with studied flashlights,” but they were pretty interesting. It was utterly juvenile, but she was entitled to something.
Flick on, flick off, flick on, flick off - perhaps there was something known as too much fun. Her bored expression never wavered, though. (She’d checked the mirror a few times to make sure she stayed nonchalant. After all, one couldn’t be too safe. In addition, there were now several booby traps around her room, although they were rather weak, as one could only make so many with such limited supplies.) In addition, anything of value had been carefully stowed away in a secret compartment of her own devising.
From the scraping near the windowsill, she assumed that her preparations had not been in vain. Leaning back in the wooden chair, she watched as the sandy-haired man pulled himself through the open window. She kept her expression impassive as she watched him carefully make his way down.
“So you showed up,” she said, feeling a smile tug on her lips.