[Active RP log] [Sora and Taichi] - A Date
Who: Sora and Taichi
When: July 15th, 2007 (evening)
Where: Around Odaiba; going through events that happened involving the Digimon
It is a cool, midsummer’s eve when Takenouchi Sora is standing outside her apartment, awaiting the company of the old childhood friend who became the beau. She had been away for some time, mostly in the confines of her father who was interested in her testimony about the Digital World and her Piyomon. Although she hadn’t taken her with her, she was sure that wasn’t the end of her father’s trial.
It was a nervous evening, filled with a questionable anxiety that she had wondered why it existed in the first place. Through a few clothing changes, she eventually decided on a knee-length black skirt and a red jacket over a laced-edged white shirt. For the first date in quite some time, she even decided (most likely due to her own nerves) on polishing her own features with a dabble of make-up. Only some fire truck red lipstick (something her mother always insisted every woman should wear at least once) and some blush.
Although, when he would arrive, the blush would almost be futile from the pigment of the cheeks which would match perfectly.
When: July 15th, 2007 (evening)
Where: Around Odaiba; going through events that happened involving the Digimon
It is a cool, midsummer’s eve when Takenouchi Sora is standing outside her apartment, awaiting the company of the old childhood friend who became the beau. She had been away for some time, mostly in the confines of her father who was interested in her testimony about the Digital World and her Piyomon. Although she hadn’t taken her with her, she was sure that wasn’t the end of her father’s trial.
It was a nervous evening, filled with a questionable anxiety that she had wondered why it existed in the first place. Through a few clothing changes, she eventually decided on a knee-length black skirt and a red jacket over a laced-edged white shirt. For the first date in quite some time, she even decided (most likely due to her own nerves) on polishing her own features with a dabble of make-up. Only some fire truck red lipstick (something her mother always insisted every woman should wear at least once) and some blush.
Although, when he would arrive, the blush would almost be futile from the pigment of the cheeks which would match perfectly.