I'll take afternoon tea, If you take it with me
WHO: Dr. Angelina Durless & anyone who would like to pop by
Where: The Durless clinic
DATE: October 3rd, Evening
WARNINGS: None.
SUMMARY: It's been too long since this Briton has sat down for some chin-wagging over tea.
STATUS: ongoing, open
*~*~*~*
You know, I can't quite stand strings of quiet evenings. There's something unsettling about being left to my own thoughts and memories. In a detached analysis I suppose it stems from the fact I use the daily chaos of work to distance myself from my past. Now that I look upon it, even putting a continent between us has failed to quell the emotional nausea.
It makes me miss Grell even more, these quiet evenings. I half expect him to climb through my window and grin that silly grin of his and give me a sharp kiss. I've been many people in my life- quiet Angelina, flamboyant Madame, loving Auntie An...but I miss being Grell's Lady Red the most. I dream of him too much and in those dreams I'm sifting through ghosts of memories; of corsets and perfumed fans and tophats and horse-drawn carriages and Whitechapel splattered in red.
Oh Angelina stop that, you have a tea party to prepare. Though at this point I haven't the slightest as to how many places I must set. At this point I'd be content with just one visitor to ease through the few moments I have control over. Fine porcelain cups, fresh milk and good old English tea with a few drops of vanilla. Fresh scones straight from the oven upstairs.
The Waiting Room certainly is no Tea Room, but it's cosy and the walls still echo with the laughter of the children who remind me love heals all.
{{Players welcome to privately tag with her or interact with ongoing conversations}}
Where: The Durless clinic
DATE: October 3rd, Evening
WARNINGS: None.
SUMMARY: It's been too long since this Briton has sat down for some chin-wagging over tea.
STATUS: ongoing, open
*~*~*~*
You know, I can't quite stand strings of quiet evenings. There's something unsettling about being left to my own thoughts and memories. In a detached analysis I suppose it stems from the fact I use the daily chaos of work to distance myself from my past. Now that I look upon it, even putting a continent between us has failed to quell the emotional nausea.
It makes me miss Grell even more, these quiet evenings. I half expect him to climb through my window and grin that silly grin of his and give me a sharp kiss. I've been many people in my life- quiet Angelina, flamboyant Madame, loving Auntie An...but I miss being Grell's Lady Red the most. I dream of him too much and in those dreams I'm sifting through ghosts of memories; of corsets and perfumed fans and tophats and horse-drawn carriages and Whitechapel splattered in red.
Oh Angelina stop that, you have a tea party to prepare. Though at this point I haven't the slightest as to how many places I must set. At this point I'd be content with just one visitor to ease through the few moments I have control over. Fine porcelain cups, fresh milk and good old English tea with a few drops of vanilla. Fresh scones straight from the oven upstairs.
The Waiting Room certainly is no Tea Room, but it's cosy and the walls still echo with the laughter of the children who remind me love heals all.
{{Players welcome to privately tag with her or interact with ongoing conversations}}