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thoughtformed2013-09-27 07:52 pm
coimiceoir) wrote in thoughtformed2013-09-27 07:52 pm
Entry tags:
Closed Log
Who: Koizumi and Aisling
What: waking after pirates
When: morning of Thursday, Sept 26
Where: a warehouse by the docks, second story
Warnings: None
The morning light eases over the mountains, airy gold pouring gently down to set the windows of the city glittering and gleaming, brushing over the feathers of the city birds and waking them to song. It wends its way through the alleys, dripping down the walls to pool over the cold concrete. And eventually, as it slips across the city, it finds the tall, broad windows of the loft over the office of a certain boat warehouse on the docks. The thin coating of dirt on the glass is not nearly enough to delay it, and the light picks out motes of dust, setting them dancing on the warming air currents. But its most triumphant find of this brand new day are the two sleepers, curled so snugly on a pile of old canvas and blankets.
The gentle touch of the sun doesn't disturb the child-like figure tucked under the protective arm of the young man. Her hair, draped over her like a blanket, shimmers brightly beneath the sun's caress, and a soft blush of warmth colors her cheek. But she doesn't stir, and does not wake, which can only mean that she is exhausted. And so she remains, snug and safe beside her friend as the sun moves deeper into the warehouse and gilds the sea.
What: waking after pirates
When: morning of Thursday, Sept 26
Where: a warehouse by the docks, second story
Warnings: None
The morning light eases over the mountains, airy gold pouring gently down to set the windows of the city glittering and gleaming, brushing over the feathers of the city birds and waking them to song. It wends its way through the alleys, dripping down the walls to pool over the cold concrete. And eventually, as it slips across the city, it finds the tall, broad windows of the loft over the office of a certain boat warehouse on the docks. The thin coating of dirt on the glass is not nearly enough to delay it, and the light picks out motes of dust, setting them dancing on the warming air currents. But its most triumphant find of this brand new day are the two sleepers, curled so snugly on a pile of old canvas and blankets.
The gentle touch of the sun doesn't disturb the child-like figure tucked under the protective arm of the young man. Her hair, draped over her like a blanket, shimmers brightly beneath the sun's caress, and a soft blush of warmth colors her cheek. But she doesn't stir, and does not wake, which can only mean that she is exhausted. And so she remains, snug and safe beside her friend as the sun moves deeper into the warehouse and gilds the sea.
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