it was a sin, so sweet and true
Characters: Emilia ( howaverage ) & Jules ( typeright ) :: closed
Date: A DAY. AT A TIME. I guess May 22nd, afternoon?
Summary: Smoking, drinking, romance novels. Classy stuff.
Warnings: Nothing comes to mind! Horrible romance novels?
Well, she'd been here a while, now. Long enough to accept that it wasn't a hallucination, and that she probably wasn't going to be going home for a while. A terrifying thought, in and of itself, and one that Jules was quite determined not to address - no, instead she was going to be doing other thing. Happy things! Things like making friends, reading, drinking wine, smoking. Quite a few days had encompassed all those things, although she had to say it was quite the change to find oneself able to indulge in an entire library of romance novels and be able to drink and smoke openly; perhaps it was only realised here because of Em being so very French.
Today was a slight veering away from the norm, though, with Jules happily parked, scribbling notes and ideas and paragraphs of prose down in a notebook. After all, her writing career had been borne of needing a distraction, and if ever there were an environment that, at times, prompted one to need something else to think about (especially the absence of loved ones), the Garden was one of them.
So, there she was, smoke curling up from the cigarette in her mouth, wine to the side, writing pornography. Another day in the life of Jules, and a classy one, at that.
Date: A DAY. AT A TIME. I guess May 22nd, afternoon?
Summary: Smoking, drinking, romance novels. Classy stuff.
Warnings: Nothing comes to mind! Horrible romance novels?
Well, she'd been here a while, now. Long enough to accept that it wasn't a hallucination, and that she probably wasn't going to be going home for a while. A terrifying thought, in and of itself, and one that Jules was quite determined not to address - no, instead she was going to be doing other thing. Happy things! Things like making friends, reading, drinking wine, smoking. Quite a few days had encompassed all those things, although she had to say it was quite the change to find oneself able to indulge in an entire library of romance novels and be able to drink and smoke openly; perhaps it was only realised here because of Em being so very French.
Today was a slight veering away from the norm, though, with Jules happily parked, scribbling notes and ideas and paragraphs of prose down in a notebook. After all, her writing career had been borne of needing a distraction, and if ever there were an environment that, at times, prompted one to need something else to think about (especially the absence of loved ones), the Garden was one of them.
So, there she was, smoke curling up from the cigarette in her mouth, wine to the side, writing pornography. Another day in the life of Jules, and a classy one, at that.