I Know You! [Active/Open]
Characters: Machi, Trucy
Setting: The Grand Room
Time: Day 004, sometime after Machi watches Al's traumaz, so still late afternoon-ish.
Summary: Trucy's wandering the house (sort of) and finds Machi. Needless to say, she's happy to see a familiar face.
Warnings: ...Machi?
Though she had said she wanted to explore the house more, Trucy hadn't gotten any further than the adjoining room, though it was more than big enough to keep her attention held for at least a good... 20 minutes at best.
It looked like it had been intended mostly for sitting, with all the different chairs and couches placed around the room, so that was exactly what she did- she sat. Why, she wasn't sure, but the room just seemed to say, 'Sit here, sit here~,' and the magician was all too wiling to do just that. It seemed like forever ago that she was sitting on the couch back home, watching shadows paint the room blue and off-black as it did every evening.
If the similar situations didn't remind her of home, though, the piano certainly did, and Trucy looked at it wistfully. The house was nice, but it wasn't the Wright Anything Agency; it wasn't her house. There was no Phoenix, and no Polly. Trucy did know what it was, though, and what it had:
It had silence, and it was lonely.
Setting: The Grand Room
Time: Day 004, sometime after Machi watches Al's traumaz, so still late afternoon-ish.
Summary: Trucy's wandering the house (sort of) and finds Machi. Needless to say, she's happy to see a familiar face.
Warnings: ...Machi?
Though she had said she wanted to explore the house more, Trucy hadn't gotten any further than the adjoining room, though it was more than big enough to keep her attention held for at least a good... 20 minutes at best.
It looked like it had been intended mostly for sitting, with all the different chairs and couches placed around the room, so that was exactly what she did- she sat. Why, she wasn't sure, but the room just seemed to say, 'Sit here, sit here~,' and the magician was all too wiling to do just that. It seemed like forever ago that she was sitting on the couch back home, watching shadows paint the room blue and off-black as it did every evening.
If the similar situations didn't remind her of home, though, the piano certainly did, and Trucy looked at it wistfully. The house was nice, but it wasn't the Wright Anything Agency; it wasn't her house. There was no Phoenix, and no Polly. Trucy did know what it was, though, and what it had:
It had silence, and it was lonely.