(no subject)

[crazedingly]

[Del is sitting on the ground, staring at her feet. She's surrounded by drawings; there's Barnabas and Russia (her Russia, not the new Russia who said he'll be her friend but who isn't the Russia she knew) and Destruction and Dream, all standing around and smiling in a field of flowers and butterflies. The butterflies are flying around her and the flowers are waving in the wind but the people, well, they're sort-of-there but they definitely aren't themselves, just drawings. So she drew vodka.]

[Drunk!depressed!Del, anyone?]