[. . . july showers bring august ghosts]

[sevenhorrorsmods]

Who: EVERYONE
When: August 3, wobbly hands
Where: Around the school!
What: some things happened. the school is suddenly a lot more crowded
Warnings: references to blood and bite injuries, but otherwise, non! unless you bring something to the party yourself

[August 3 stars off. . . weird.]

[The morning bell chimes at 6 a.m., as it usually does! But there appears to be a very thin layer of fog settled against the ground outside. Some of it seeps into the school's hallways, before dissipating in a few wisps of haze. Weird??]

[As the day goes on, you feel like you can hear strange whispers echoing in the air-- a voice, hissing the word miiiiiiiine over and over again. Also weird!]

[And by the time the afternoon hits, you may find yourself running into some very unwanted guests. You've been here two weeks, and this is the first time you're seeing these guys?? Where have they been??]

[By the way, the nurse's office is unlocked!]

Comments

[ratiocinations]

[It is indeed pretty uh oh stinky in that era.]

It can be, but I am fortunate to not live particularly close to a factory. Yet my street is often nothing more than horses, carriages, and paperboys hawking for buyers. It is a racket in its own unique way.

[But it is still… home.]

[velluminous]

Oh.

[ familiar. ]

Tell me more about it.

[ratiocinations]

[About Baker Street? Ah, well.]

I live in a residential building, which means I am spared from the immediate inconveniences of living next door to a bustling business. No, indeed, my flat is upstairs, and my window affords a fair view of all that happens directly below, earning me some distance to properly observe.

And yet London is still London. Every morning, without fail, there is hustle and bustle below, loud enough to awaken anyone who isn't used to the growing murmur of the working crowd. And cabs and carriages that carry the hoofbeats of horses reverberating down the street for what must be blocks and blocks. Beyond that! My landlady will not let a man rest when he truly desires it, besides.

[velluminous]

[ a bittersweet note of nostalgia twists her features, then, rather than strictly pain. yes, she can imagine this so clearly. the bustle and hum. the scent of horse dander and manure, woodsmoke, sea-salt air. hawkers and merchants, the groan of great ships in the harbour. the harbour bells, the gulls. all this and more... how she misses it.

kneads her fingernails in at the edge of the bench. the sound of the wood splintering slightly. ]

Living near water, you?

[ratiocinations]

[This is a different kind of pain, he thinks, hearing that wood protest. He is almost sorry for it, but it is good for her to focus on this sort instead of the other. And perhaps he does not mind speaking of home too terribly, either.]

All of Great Britain is an island, but London is about forty miles or so from the coast. But the River Thames cuts through Southern England and the capital is included in that. So yes, in a way, I do live near water.

Though... perhaps not in the same manner as a city named Waterdeep.

[velluminous]

We are on very coast, overlooking Trackless Sea. Two million people sprawling across one hundred square miles.

[ratiocinations]

One hundred square miles?

[London has at least six million people, but… it is also at least six times as large.]

It must smell just as badly as my home.

[This is his takeaway, and he is only partly joking.]

[velluminous]

[ instantly on the defensive. she doesn't want to admit to the smell of her ward, that she lives in lower conditions. ]

Well, I—Metropolitan area is larger. I could not say how large.

[ratiocinations]

[Oh? Why would he sense a small backpedalling to the very idea? He is not so hesitant to call his city STINKY, especially near the Thames. He cannot imagine a port city, crowded with people, can be much better.]

But it must smell like brine all day?

[velluminous]

Yes. I miss it.

[ratiocinations]

[Poor girl. But he understands; he misses London in all of its beauty and filth, too.]

And what do you miss the most?

[velluminous]

[ her gaze goes somewhat listless and faraway. ]

There was this... tremendous library...

[ratiocinations]

Oh?

[Go on.]

[velluminous]

...... gone now.

[ with a sharpish inhale, meant to signify the end of a thought. she shakes her head, dismissing it, and tugs on her arm. it hurts. ]

Please. Give me one moment.

[ratiocinations]

[Gone. In what sense? Always, his mind wants to tread back to that fire of hers…

But in this case, he can’t help but question as she tugs her arm aside-]

Very well, but we shouldn’t pause until your wound has fully thawed.

/2

[velluminous]

[ very tersely, ] I can't—

[velluminous]

[ Mammon. fuck. forcibly softening herself, Severine clears her throat to excise the quiver in an otherwise sable voice. ] Nearly. I need one minute.

[ indeed, she is several shades paler now than she was when they first sat down. keeping it all inside, where he can't see, is bearing down on her. ]

[ratiocinations]

[…Ah.

He is… far more adept at providing distance than comfort, so if that’s what she wants so desperately, he will concede.]

…A minute then.

[The heat pack and the rag are pulled away and sat down. Does she want him to… leave? For a minute or two? He can do that, as well, moving to stand.]

[velluminous]

—Where are you going?

[ratiocinations]

...Did you not wish for a minute or two to yourself? [To pull herself together.]

[velluminous]

Reprieve from heat, not from you! I am not crying babe.

[ratiocinations]

[…Well now he’s just standing here awkwardly.]

You were crying. I’m trying to be considerate.

[velluminous]

Well, I wish even less to be left alone!

[ratiocinations]

[




SITS BACK DOWN]

real tag

[velluminous]