If you had been upstairs in the Compound or in the Hub at six in the evening of December 31, you might have thought your eyes were playing tricks on you, or that you'd once again been whisked off to some strange, new place. Within the blink of an eye, the rooms had changed, sparkling instantly with festive decorations, and it was all so ( Read more... )

Mrs. Bennet and Rosie watch Lydia one afternoon, and read aloud to her. (Thread still in progress.)

Backdated to early December.

Cecily had not been keeping her calender very strictly while she was here on the island, but she happened to over hear a few whispers in the crowds about the fact that it was Christmas Eve. Almost Christmas, in fact, considering the darkness of the night sky and the brightness of the moon. Cecily sat against the side of her cabin, looking out onto ( Read more... )

Odd fucking island. Such an odd fucking island that Guy had decided it was suited for sentient properties. So, in this wintery scene, the appropriate term was not beautiful, but vain. It was a vain island, and a show-off to boot. And the beach, it must have thought, was its best feature. And Guy, sitting there, contemplating it, had to admit that ( Read more... )

The ceremony at the church had been cold and nearly as evocative of icy memories as the year before when she had stood up in the snowy weather to take her vows. It seemed as though all proper events would occur under the cloudy storms of a chilly, yet familiar season. With Lydia travelling with them, Jane was most sure to bundle her up in the ( Read more... )

Debbie Novotny is on a mission ( Read more... )

It has to be done, so Rollie dashes off a note to put up on the bulletin board. If there's something to mark public health notices, Rollie doesn't know it, so he just writes in big letters.
NOTICE ( Read more... )

Sharon had nothing to compare this to ( Read more... )

He wasn't going to let this get to him. The wind blew a bit harder and the whispers kept going, persistent, just a bit louder, to demand attention. To demand surrender. But he wasn't going to. He wasn't bloody going to acknowledge this madness. He flinched as he saw a hand. He wasn't going to let any of these people near him either. He knew what ( Read more... )

Lucy was looking for someone. Mr Blunt in fact. She'd finished the book on Poussin he'd written and found one he'd also written about a man called Picasso. That one had stumped her a bit, and she wanted to find him and ask him about it. It only seemed right to return the books tot he man who had written them as well ( Read more... )