(no subject)
A blast of salty, North Sea wind blows a most unusual sight through the door of Milliways this evening.
Luna is wearing billowy, gauzy white robes over her regular clothes. Her hair is loose and liberally festooned with pink Scottish primroses. And a pair of filmy white wings (now a bit crooked from the wind) have been fixed onto the back of her robe with a sticking charm.
Mr. Spring’s portraits have taken on a distinctly Waterhouse flair this summer.
(This picture could be stranger. The stupefied seal she has been posing with has been disenchanted and shooed back to join his pod.)
Luna may have forgotten that she’s wearing an odd costume. Or it just hasn’t occurred to her that it’s all that odd, really. Either way she walks across the bar with an utter lack of concern.
There’s tea to be had here.
Luna is wearing billowy, gauzy white robes over her regular clothes. Her hair is loose and liberally festooned with pink Scottish primroses. And a pair of filmy white wings (now a bit crooked from the wind) have been fixed onto the back of her robe with a sticking charm.
Mr. Spring’s portraits have taken on a distinctly Waterhouse flair this summer.
(This picture could be stranger. The stupefied seal she has been posing with has been disenchanted and shooed back to join his pod.)
Luna may have forgotten that she’s wearing an odd costume. Or it just hasn’t occurred to her that it’s all that odd, really. Either way she walks across the bar with an utter lack of concern.
There’s tea to be had here.