May 04, 2005 19:03
Delirium of the Endless is playing.
With a bouncy ball. The sort you get in an egg, except this one's from a real egg.
She feels badly she stole it from its mother, but she wanted it and its shiny and the colour of papayas in the sun.
Bounce bounce bounce.
xander harris,
del,
lord peter wimsey
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Up, down. Up, down. Gravity, in Peter's increasingly disjointed world, seems to be holding steady.
He toys with the bits of shell left from the ball's hatching. The urge to kiss Delirium is almost unbearable.
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He's not normally this weird. Delerium brings it out in him.
"Apple in French is Pomme."
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She lied.
She does that.
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Okay, okay, just go over there and say hi ... and then apologize ... and if necessary, run like hell.
"Hey! Del! Um, fancy ... running into you ... from across the room ..."
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"Yes. Yes it is. And, uh ... I don't know. But, um, I guess I don't know for sure if I have a kidney, so we're even." Pause. "How you doin'?"
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