Nadia awoke sharply from an unhappy dream, though the only outward sign that she did so was the change in the rhythm of her breathing. After a few moments, she started to shift slowly, without opening her eyes, just to see if Walter was still beside her and to make sure that he was all in one piece ( Read more... )

Nadia and Walter had a lunch date scheduled. She had taken a page from his butlery book and turned one of the desks in her room into a little table, complete with a sheet for a table cloth. She'd replaced her stereo about a week ago, and now had Pink Martini playing quietly in the background. As promised, she had the hot sauce and the drinks. ( Read more... )

It was a warm, humid evening, so when Nadia grabbed her guitar and headed to the Servants' Quarters just after dusk, she brought with her a small cooler of ice and mixers as well. Walter had said he'd provide the rum ( Read more... )

Yeah, Nadia was still in her room. But she totally had plans to leave. Tomorrow. Maybe.

But she was still feeling the need for sensory overload, so she had her guitar out and headphones plugged into it, and was jumping around the place playing Sleater Kinney.

The door still didn't have a lock. As such? It had totally fallen open.

[ooc: ( Read more... )

All the lights were on again. The stereo was on, and though she wasn't really listening, she'd occasionally catch a word or two of the songs as they drifted by.

. . . turn all the bright lights up,
turn the radio up loud.

There were times when she wondered if she had some kind of unconscious musical power. . . .She still remembered everything. ( Read more... )

Anyone who might have been passing by room 7 of the Carriage House when reality was snapped into place would hear a soft hissing sound, like a slow leak.

Nadia was standing at her bureau, staring into the mirror, frozen midway in the process of brushing her hair.

( The slow leak was from her )

Nadia was ever so slightly completely smashed.

She was also moderately lost in the streets of Milieux late at night.

But! She totally had her phone with her, so it was all okay.

Sort of.

( Phone call the first )

Nadia hadn't so much slept last night as she had passed out, and almost as soon as she had, she was treated to fitful, frustrating dreams about Walter deciding to become a model and then sell the story of "the only girl he ever loved" all over the place. And really, the magazine articles and tell all memoir were one thing, but did he have to look ( Read more... )

Progress had been made. For one, Nadia was no longer curled into a ball, and she'd managed to make it all the way back to her room ( Read more... )