Ella looks the least happy she's been in a very, very long time.

Some time after a certain encounter, she's curled up in a couch by the fire. Maybe -- maybe she ought to have expected it. For the moment, though, she's trying not to think about it. The pages of her arithmetic book are spotted with tears, and there are still drops running down her ( Read more... )

Ella's around.

Presently, she's stretched out on the couch, putting a decorative circle of leaves on a fedora. (It works and doesn't all at once.)

Botherable, if you don't mind a 50-50 chance of scoring a new hat.

(It actually is quite a nice fedora. It's light brown, with a darker brown band around the head. The leaves that are currently being added ( Read more... )

[ oom; Journey's End. Warning for violence and potentially disturbing imagery - in the EP as well. ]

The woman who comes virtually tumbling down the stairs is almost unrecognizable. Her eyes are the only part that might be a clue to who she is: wide and blue, although devoid of the happiness that had been there before. Tears run from her eyes, ( Read more... )

Escape in stormy seas once again, but beware of the depths.

Truman had fallen asleep on one of the couches. And he was lucky in that it might have saved his life. A small blessing.

He was covered in water, and shaking, still asleep. Drowning and hypothermia overtaking his body.

(ooc: go ahead and wake him)
[tiny tag: Thy Kingdom Come]

Ella's back. Well, not exactly, but at any rate, she's here.

Today's she's dressed simply in a white dress - cut straight, hem just slightly above her knees.

As always, she's got a new project today.

It's making grapefruit juice, as evidenced by the halves of grapefruit on the table in front of her, the small canister of sugar, and the juice squeezer ( Read more... )

Truman came down into the bar, and softly singing "The Impossible Dream" as he glanced around. He then headed to the Front Door, and opened it. Looked like a typical quiet street in LA. Until you see some candles around, and his picture on display like a makeshift shrine and a few people looking back at him ( Read more... )

"Gotta dance ( Read more... )

Truman stepped into the bar, and heard the music. Ooh, this again, he hasn't done this in a while. Only this one started calmer, almost a longing sound in the guitars. Thinking of what he had left behind, and what he briefly had to return to soon for one more time. And also about the woman he met, so eager to see worlds like him. He found himself ( Read more... )

Ella is, if anything, unhappy.

Currently in a booth, her knees are tucked up against her chest, arms wound around her legs. Her hands are in her hair, pulling it over her ears. Her eyes are fixed on the table.

In front of her is a piece of white paper, on which is drawn the vague outline of a head and shoulders. Everything is filled in save the face ( Read more... )

Truman was down in the bar when he saw Seymour leave. He knew it was the way of the place, that sometimes, people go and their door no longer works. You just knew they weren't around anymore. But figure they'd be ok, and maybe they'd come back. He watched his friend exit, and he knew, this was different. It wasn't like when the studio made him ( Read more... )