(no subject)
Losing Adrian is rough, but Emma finds it considerably easier than some other disappearances. For one thing, Adrian is genuinely capable of caring for himself. She doesn't have to worry about him. If he's actually gone back to his world, as the simpering masses insist is the case, then he'll have things to do with his life, and if he's moved onto whatever really lies beyond this, then he's up to the challenge of surviving it. It's a damn shame, one less person worth her time here, but he'll be fine, perhaps even happier, though it's not a mood she necessarily associates with the man.
He's gone and left his house behind, empty and about as good as this place gets, a kind of parting gift, and Emma hates her hut enough to want to take him up on it (anything that can be called a "hut" is far below what she would classify as livable, but she's managed). But he's left it atop a mountain and she has no desire to move her things and make the trek until the storm comes along.
Once there's a tree in her living room, her decision is essentially made for her.
The wind and rain have laid waste to her collection of books and what's left of her hair dye, which was next to nothing anyway. It's still frustrating, but then, the effort it takes to stay blonde isn't high on her list of things to consider just at this moment. Her clothes aren't too badly off, but she makes her way to the crowded compound anyway, intent on rebuilding her wardrobe and library.
The clothes box, it seems, has other ideas. Kneeling on the concrete floor of the basement, Emma grimaces, holding up a shirt between thumbs and forefingers, a purple, shapeless monstrosity branded with a unicorn and a rainbow. The next thing to come out when she casts it aside is no better, a blue dress of a gaudy, cheap, shiny material, so long she doubts she'd be able to see her feet if she were mad enough to put it on.
"You think you're just hilarious, don't you?"
He's gone and left his house behind, empty and about as good as this place gets, a kind of parting gift, and Emma hates her hut enough to want to take him up on it (anything that can be called a "hut" is far below what she would classify as livable, but she's managed). But he's left it atop a mountain and she has no desire to move her things and make the trek until the storm comes along.
Once there's a tree in her living room, her decision is essentially made for her.
The wind and rain have laid waste to her collection of books and what's left of her hair dye, which was next to nothing anyway. It's still frustrating, but then, the effort it takes to stay blonde isn't high on her list of things to consider just at this moment. Her clothes aren't too badly off, but she makes her way to the crowded compound anyway, intent on rebuilding her wardrobe and library.
The clothes box, it seems, has other ideas. Kneeling on the concrete floor of the basement, Emma grimaces, holding up a shirt between thumbs and forefingers, a purple, shapeless monstrosity branded with a unicorn and a rainbow. The next thing to come out when she casts it aside is no better, a blue dress of a gaudy, cheap, shiny material, so long she doubts she'd be able to see her feet if she were mad enough to put it on.
"You think you're just hilarious, don't you?"