Abominable Snowcabin, Sunday evening, Living Room
Naminé was sitting and flipping through her sketchbook, musing a little on just about everything. Michelangelo, her would-be hero, and the lovely things he said. Her new job, which she started in the morning. Her trip to DC with Charlie, which had been lovely. A glittery cabin. Alphonse, who had given her a book and also some unusual ideas. Roxas, who didn't know her at all. Demyx, who didn't bear thinking about. A juggler with a mask for a face and sad eyes. Ronan, whose Speech was extraordinary. Luna, her new sibling. A class on art, and a teacher who was far kinder than she had thanked him properly for. A class on ... she wasn't sure, taught by someone who wasn't quite the person she knew. A class on self-confidence, whose teacher confused her by placing her as an authority figure. The fears that kept her sleeping by the doorway, with one eye open. The friends she couldn't write. And so many, many more conversations with interesting and new people.
She frowned. She needed more pages; at this rate she'd run out rather quickly. And there was even more she was forgetting. Memory was vexing like that. She should know.
(open to the abominable cabinmates)
She frowned. She needed more pages; at this rate she'd run out rather quickly. And there was even more she was forgetting. Memory was vexing like that. She should know.
(open to the abominable cabinmates)