The Park, Monday Morning.
It was the last day of the year, and Thelma was restless. She'd been unable to find that book of prophecy, which was worrisome.
It was supposed to be a time where you'd be celebrating the dawn of a new time. For Thelma, she felt like it was just the first bell toll, heralding the limited time she had left to spend on Earth.
So for now, she sat on a bench in the park, eating an apple. Or, as many would see it, an apple slowly disappeared, bite-by-bite, hovering by a park bench.
[ooc: open.]
It was supposed to be a time where you'd be celebrating the dawn of a new time. For Thelma, she felt like it was just the first bell toll, heralding the limited time she had left to spend on Earth.
So for now, she sat on a bench in the park, eating an apple. Or, as many would see it, an apple slowly disappeared, bite-by-bite, hovering by a park bench.
[ooc: open.]