(no subject)
This could be one of the shortest entry posts ever. This post could consist of nothing but the words Atlantean hangover and it might, in fact, be enough. However, because less is quite often not more, there will be further description.
Suzi is curled up in a chair with a full pot of trin tea, not-at-all artistically bloodshot eyes, and an expression that says fairly clearly what's up with all this light? Turn it off! Turn it off! She's got a book which she is running an outer dorsal over, slowly, and she's knitting with her tentacles. Only her tentacles, her hands are occupied with the trin tea mentioned earlier. She isn't actually ill anymore, but her head is pounding to the rhythm of whatever is on the sound system in pulses of pure pain.
Suzi has learned something. Peachy-pink? Is a very, very bad color. Very bad.
((Time to stagger off to class. New threads welcome, and will be picked up when I get out.))
Suzi is curled up in a chair with a full pot of trin tea, not-at-all artistically bloodshot eyes, and an expression that says fairly clearly what's up with all this light? Turn it off! Turn it off! She's got a book which she is running an outer dorsal over, slowly, and she's knitting with her tentacles. Only her tentacles, her hands are occupied with the trin tea mentioned earlier. She isn't actually ill anymore, but her head is pounding to the rhythm of whatever is on the sound system in pulses of pure pain.
Suzi has learned something. Peachy-pink? Is a very, very bad color. Very bad.
((Time to stagger off to class. New threads welcome, and will be picked up when I get out.))