[Fic] I keep her, it's cheaper. I love too much to let go.
OOC: .....This was supposed to be for magi. And then Aubrey challenged me. And... It basically doesn't fit ANYONE'S prompt anymore, okay? :| I WRITE THINGS.
There are curtains.
Although, really to call them curtains would be a gross insult to interior decorating, as they weren't so much curtains as a horrible tapestry of furs that someone sewed together and fitted onto the curtain rod. If you stared at them long enough, you could see where one animal ended and another began as they merged together to form something not unlike the fur coat of someone's example of an animal variant of Frankenstein's monster. Some of them weren't native animals and some of them he was pretty sure you weren't allowed to trap for fur, which he doubted was going to really stop Clark, but it was enough to get him thinking.
Sark had nothing to do for the last several hours, beyond staring blankly at those curtains.
Clark's idea of a dream house was severely lacking and there was a sarcastic comment on the back of his throat for when the man returned about how if this relationship was going to continue, something had to be done about his interior decorating skills, but he wound up gagging on his own tasteless sarcasm and sinking miserably onto the bed like an unhappy cat, doomed to stare at the furs until something new and unpleasant happened.
He half-wondered where they came from, and then promptly decided he didn't want to know. Unfortunately, on his fourth cursory evaluation of the room, which ended with him trying to get rid of the damn curtains, he discovered a note pinned to the underside of the thick tapestry of fur that pretty much explained it.
It would have been such a waste otherwise, the note read.
Muse: Julian Sark
Word Count: 270
There are curtains.
Although, really to call them curtains would be a gross insult to interior decorating, as they weren't so much curtains as a horrible tapestry of furs that someone sewed together and fitted onto the curtain rod. If you stared at them long enough, you could see where one animal ended and another began as they merged together to form something not unlike the fur coat of someone's example of an animal variant of Frankenstein's monster. Some of them weren't native animals and some of them he was pretty sure you weren't allowed to trap for fur, which he doubted was going to really stop Clark, but it was enough to get him thinking.
Sark had nothing to do for the last several hours, beyond staring blankly at those curtains.
Clark's idea of a dream house was severely lacking and there was a sarcastic comment on the back of his throat for when the man returned about how if this relationship was going to continue, something had to be done about his interior decorating skills, but he wound up gagging on his own tasteless sarcasm and sinking miserably onto the bed like an unhappy cat, doomed to stare at the furs until something new and unpleasant happened.
He half-wondered where they came from, and then promptly decided he didn't want to know. Unfortunately, on his fourth cursory evaluation of the room, which ended with him trying to get rid of the damn curtains, he discovered a note pinned to the underside of the thick tapestry of fur that pretty much explained it.
It would have been such a waste otherwise, the note read.
Muse: Julian Sark
Word Count: 270