Still incredibly pissed off, Rachel is busy pacing through the mansion halls. She may or may not have just sunk her fist into a nearby wall, muttering curses in what will seem to anyone who comes upon her to be a completely foreign tongue.

Rachel is sitting on the bed in her room. Her knees are hugged to her chest and her hair is all a mess. She isn't smirking; she isn't smiling. She simply is, and she isn't quite sure what that means anymore. Having only just returned, she's still trying to process her thoughts and the only company she really desires is evident in the word her ( Read more... )

*she's not twirling, really, and don't ask why she insisted on posting this, I couldn't say*

Gabriel?

I love you.