Who:
swordofthenorth and
yetsleepingWhen: Sunday, September 4th, Morning
Where: Isley’s home, East Anatole
Format: Paragraph
What: It’s an emergency! With paint...?
Warnings: A colorful mess is bound to ensue. I'd drop a Pocahontas "Colors of the Wind" pun here but I'm sure someone would smack me for it.
(
. . . to paint away the warmth with winter. )
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“My dear, don’t look so betrayed. This matter is truly urgent.” He swung her about so that she could better see the paints from where they stood, not far from the open doors. “You must understand that I could not wait to see you, Priscilla, and that these paints, open as they are, must be put to immediate use or else they will dry ( ... )
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The pale whites and blues, they all reminded her of snow drifts. The colors of the North, and the colors of Isley himself, standing under moonlight, or even under the sun on those wintry days of mist and pale blue skies. And she would have done something else - asked a question, maybe, or kicked him in the shin (at least that would be consistent with her initial impulse) - but instead she stops talking, stops swinging her feet, stops breathing for a moment, lost inside that kissHer reaction, unlike the rest of the encounter so far, was not unexpected. By the time their lips parted, she was nearly smiling ( ... )
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