Arthur didn't quite wake up at dawn, but close to it. He was warm, though, courtesy of Merlin's magic (and Merlin's limbs embedded in various arm- and kneepits, although that was going to get uncomfortable soon). So that was all right
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And she was pretty sure she'd slept on a rock, but her fault for not checking the ground thoroughly first.
One way or another, could she just . . . not move for a while? And maybe when she woke up she'd realize that whole thing about Arthur driving had been an insane dream fueled by eating pickles and Pop Rocks together? Maybe?
No?
. . . damn.
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Not that Francine was thinking that. Francine was mostly thinking, I'm going to go stand outside the tent and look at the morning, because it's really pretty, but I'm not going to do it in my underwear, because that would be freezing and WTF and OMFG! And I have no idea why I just thought about going out in my underwear in the first place.
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He lit the fire with the help of some flint, then sat down to skin them. Mmm. Rabbit for breakfast.
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There are rooms, there is food, have at.
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Also, I've grown way too addicted to these crazy Germans. Mmmm, Elvis-style Umbrella.
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I liked them well anough until one night when one of my neighbours decided to play Umbrella several times very effing loud at about 3 AM, after which I just wanted to murder everyone connected to the bloody thing.
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