dormancy | [heart game]

[heart game]

There is a click, a soft urging, almost whispered too soft to hear, but you can sense that you are being beckoned somewhere, lead to an elaborate open door with wood panels and great curls of gold leaf. You cannot see what is beyond the door, but it smells sour and sharp. Before you can turn over the thought of should you or shouldn't you, if you are the kind, there is a quiet push at your back and through the door you go . . .

Join #supersafe, because I like being misleading. When in doubt, use this for flower meanings if you character is the type . . .

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

She can hold a conversation, at least. It is more than can be said for most.

There is an interesting inclination to violence and depravity that has laid still for awhile. Better to let sleeping beasts lie, but how terribly boring . . .

The role best suited to such a character . . . It doesn't sit well with me, but a role is a role. What does it matter when nothing becomes someone?

[... snaps the book shut and puts it back where she found it]

[is there a "Nunnally" book anywhere?]

In matching Kunzite pink, even! It sits near like titles, such as Lelouch, Rolo, and so on.

[let's open that one up!]

A sister? How surprising, but not truly . . . What a sweet girl with a simple wish. Better to be blind to the world, then to witness it, I suppose.

My, how different fantasy can be from reality. She truly is trying to hold her ground most desperately. Where is his sweet sister now?

I hate to repeat myself, but she could be a most useful tool. Still, she seems to be aware of such a chance. Perhaps, until most needed . . .

[... continues reading, if it goes on]

Of course, it goes on. This could be a novel, but I will not be writing it!

It goes on about how Vincent has taken her on a nice date to a pleasant meadow, that he enjoys her company deeply and finds solace and peace in it. There are a few pages where he muses if she will be throwing him aside, apparently he did something to Lelouch, hm!

[apparently my goal this heart game is to make myself mildly miserable ok puts the book back]

[turning away from the bookshelf and surveying the rest of the corner to see if there's anything else of apparent interest]

The chaise is in disarray in as much as blankets and pillows strewn about merits that term, meanwhile the small table looks like a storm has passed over it. Ink drips over the edge, and papers and flowers petals are scattered everywhere. You can see a solitary black chess piece on its side . . .