[THREAD; what is this malarkey]
characters: Clovis la Britannia and OPEN.
location: Prophecy Arena.
time: Afternoon.
rating: PG-13.
open/closed: OPEN.
Finally. I can get back to how things were before. I will start a new line of fashion and --
[Clovis spoke mostly to himself as he walked down the street. Happy that he was still alive and feeling so energized with this survival that he would make such wonderful clothing. Of course, all of his supplies and otherwise equipment was in the theatre. Yet, when he arrived at his destination, ignoring the rubble and otherwise mess that the city was in; he found that he could not continue any further. Not because he did not want to, but because the beloved theatre had been destroyed in the raid.
His mouth opened as he gasped a few hesitant breathes before falling onto his knees in front of the broken building. All of his sketches, dresses, everything was in there to continue his work. He collapsed forward -- for once not caring about being dirty -- with his head pressed against his arms. It was the one thing that would help him. His beloved younger sister was gone. Fear of death had kept him mostly afloat, but now he needed to make dresses, design, anything to get his mind off what had happened to his darling sister. And now he did not even have that outlet.
Not caring, or perhaps feeling just that lost, he began to cry loudly.]
location: Prophecy Arena.
time: Afternoon.
rating: PG-13.
open/closed: OPEN.
Finally. I can get back to how things were before. I will start a new line of fashion and --
[Clovis spoke mostly to himself as he walked down the street. Happy that he was still alive and feeling so energized with this survival that he would make such wonderful clothing. Of course, all of his supplies and otherwise equipment was in the theatre. Yet, when he arrived at his destination, ignoring the rubble and otherwise mess that the city was in; he found that he could not continue any further. Not because he did not want to, but because the beloved theatre had been destroyed in the raid.
His mouth opened as he gasped a few hesitant breathes before falling onto his knees in front of the broken building. All of his sketches, dresses, everything was in there to continue his work. He collapsed forward -- for once not caring about being dirty -- with his head pressed against his arms. It was the one thing that would help him. His beloved younger sister was gone. Fear of death had kept him mostly afloat, but now he needed to make dresses, design, anything to get his mind off what had happened to his darling sister. And now he did not even have that outlet.
Not caring, or perhaps feeling just that lost, he began to cry loudly.]