(no subject)
Peanut Butter - Air
Main entry
Timeframe : 1267
Tristan stands beside the desk, arms folded across his chest, quietly watching as Sethan draws form after frantic form for several minutes before he finally asks, “How often does she… speak to you?”
Sethan ignores him, holding up the newest sheet to frown at the lines scrawled on it before tossing it aside and beginning another.
“Is it always the screaming, or does she just like to have a nice chat sometimes?”
The new form is half done and Sethan has yet to say a word.
“Is she talking to you now?”
He finishes this page and tosses it aside as well.
“Sethan?”
The ink blots and Sethan crumples the new page. He’s about to reach for another, but he stops with a sigh. “It varies,” he says. “Sometimes she’s like a blathering five-year-old, telling me every bit of nonsense that’s popped into her head. Sometimes she’s screaming like something’s torn her in two. Sometimes… sometimes she’s blessedly, peacefully silent. And that,” he sweeps a hand over the mess of discarded pages, “is when I try to get things done.”
Main entry
Timeframe : 1267
Tristan stands beside the desk, arms folded across his chest, quietly watching as Sethan draws form after frantic form for several minutes before he finally asks, “How often does she… speak to you?”
Sethan ignores him, holding up the newest sheet to frown at the lines scrawled on it before tossing it aside and beginning another.
“Is it always the screaming, or does she just like to have a nice chat sometimes?”
The new form is half done and Sethan has yet to say a word.
“Is she talking to you now?”
He finishes this page and tosses it aside as well.
“Sethan?”
The ink blots and Sethan crumples the new page. He’s about to reach for another, but he stops with a sigh. “It varies,” he says. “Sometimes she’s like a blathering five-year-old, telling me every bit of nonsense that’s popped into her head. Sometimes she’s screaming like something’s torn her in two. Sometimes… sometimes she’s blessedly, peacefully silent. And that,” he sweeps a hand over the mess of discarded pages, “is when I try to get things done.”