 07:34:31 Leaf
The brand won't actually show up on the horse art but it will be in the vitals box |
07:30:54 Dulcie/Crazy Ally
What did you get for what you lost? |
07:28:30 Ally 💜| I had 394k and now im at 164k XD oops |
07:26:25 | Does the brand show up on the horse? |
07:25:30 | Crazy you are amazeing thank you!!!!!!!!!!!!!! |
07:21:44 Hummer| @Columet, I think I will ask my Mom to pick me up some after we finish this TV show episode. |
07:21:23 | I left for 5 seconds and chat exploded.... |
07:21:08 The Coffee Purist| Fellow stomach bug victim; ate some canned soup and tortilla chips |
07:20:44 Moon - She/they @Hummer
I hope you get better very soon. The stomach flu is horrible :( |
07:20:28 Dulcie/Crazy So I gotta tell you willow one of the first goats that was mine mine was a black nigiaran doe who had 7 babies & not a drop of milk
I know she's not a typical nigiaran
Anyway after her came Joy & Wings both my mother's alpine & I kinda fell in love with the breed after that but the next time I bought goats they where 2 gal per day black Neubians |
07:19:23 Willow ~ KNN Breeder| I'll be back, going to feed the animals |
07:17:24 Willow ~ KNN Breeder Dulcie
BOOOO, Nigerians are the best breed, lol |
07:17:05 Hummer| Freakin sucks. Stomach flu has been going around, but I was hoping to avoid getting it. I don't even recall interacting with any patients at the hospital with stomach flu symptoms. |
07:16:52 Solar Phoenix| some warm chicken broth might help (or water with chicken bouillon) |
07:16:35 Dulcie/Crazy I had goats in the past when I was young
Neubians LaMachas alpine toggonburg Nigerian dwarf & boer at various times
The Neubians where to ones I used the stethoscope on
My favorite breed is alpine! |
07:16:33 Hummer| @Moon, lol, you are just thinking that same thing as me. XD |
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Please don't post here unless your Velaris Stud or 4 Little Pines Ranch, but feel free to read along! :)
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The plot London City: A fearless investigative journalist known for exposing the underground world of supernatural beings, finds themself in the wrong place at the wrong time. While chasing a lead on a series of mysterious disappearances, they are captured by a brooding vampire, who believes they holds the key to uncovering a conspiracy threatening both their worlds. The inital days lead to furious and determined attempts to escape, but as they learn more about the vampire's plight—a hidden faction of rogue vampires intent on war—their perspective begins to shift. The vampire, intrigued by their strength and intellect, reluctantly reveals their plan: they must work together to stop the impending chaos. As they navigate the dark alleys of the city, tensions flare and chemistry ignites, blurring the lines between captor and captive. With danger closing in from all sides, can they set aside their differences and forge an alliance that could save them both, or will their pasts tear them apart?
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Character Sheet
Name:
(Your character's full name) Age:
(How old is your character?) Gender:
(What gender does your character identify as?) Species/Race:
(Human, elf, robot, etc.) Occupation:
(What does your character do for a living?) Appearance:
(Describe your character's physical traits: hair color, eye color, height, clothing style, etc.) Personality:
(What are your character's key traits? Are they kind, cunning, shy, etc.?) Background:
(A brief history of your character: where they come from, significant life events, etc.) Abilities/Skills:
(What special skills or abilities does your character possess?) Goals/Motivations:
(What drives your character? What do they want to achieve?) Strengths:
(What are your character's strong points?) Weaknesses:
(What are their vulnerabilities or flaws?) Relationships:
(Key relationships your character has: friends, family, rivals, etc.) Likes/Dislikes:
(What does your character enjoy or hate?) Fears:
(What is your character afraid of?)
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Name:
"Rowan" Age:
25 Gender:
male Species/Race:
vampire Occupation:
He's a sergeant in a PMC (which is American-based and full of humans, him being the only vampire he knows of) Appearance:
Rowan has long curly chocolatey brown hair that reaches past his shoulders. Icy pale blue eyes, he has a fully symmetrical face and a small scar on his right brow bone. His style has adapted to fit the current time, being slightly lazy-looking but very comfortable. He stands at 6" Personality:
Pos-deep-rooted loyalty, creative, sympathetic, high-spirited, brave, charismatic, likable. Neg-temper, emotionally sensitive, deceptive, manipulative, power-thirsty, impulsive, petty. Background:
Rowan grew up in a middle-class family full of rather emotionally harsh parents who didn't understand how to take care of a child with deep-rooted empathy and overall fragile emotions. Because of this, Rowan struggles with his emotions controlling him instead of the other way around. His parents were overall emotionally abusive, making him believe he barely had control over his life, causing him to cling to the few things he could, including when he wanted to eat and how much. His parents had commented on his weight several times, causing an eating disorder to occur around 13. Being homeschooled his whole life has caused him to struggle with certain aspects of socialization. He went no contact with them around 18, he was 118 before he was lured into a secret Terrorist Organization, where he was saved from the said organization by a Southern American man who was the founder and commander of a PMC(Private Military Company). Rowan still has a deep-rooted loyalty to that man.
Abilities/Skills:
Human- When Rowan was human he had a great sense of sight and hearing, having also a good sense of smell, although it wasn't as good as his others, while he doesn't have good aim he can throw hard. Vampiric-Being turned has enhanced his senses, making him more acute to them yet more easily overwhelmed. He has subtle seduction and manipulation abilities. (His abilities aren't strong but improve with age, he only merely uses them to sway things how he wants them, not using his abilities for any sexual or any other gain other than getting simple things his way) He has enhanced strength, but it is nothing supernatural. Goals/Motivations:
Rowan wants to dominate something, like a town or something, he doesn't quite know. Strengths:
Rowan is smart, he is quick to think outside of the box and react. He is naturally super manipulative, not just because he is turned, when he was human he was almost as manipulative as he is today. (Sorry I cant think of any) Weaknesses:
Rowan's senses overload easily, causing his hearing to get overwhelming yet he doesn't understand what he hears, his vision blurs and he gets very irritable. The sun, won't burn him to a crisp immediately like the myths, but he does sunburn easily. VSS(Visual Snow Syndrome, a neurological disorder I have IRL) Relationships:
Mother- Close (Deceased) Father- Distant (Deceased) Phillip Graves(Shadow-01)- Okay with presence (Hasn't seen him since he saved Rowan) "Jones"- Friend (An Extrovert who adopted Rowan into his little friend group) "Hemlock"- Close (Rowan's best friend within the PMC, doesn't know Rowan's little secret) Friend group- Friendly (Doesn't know half their names) Likes/Dislikes:
Likes- Horses, nature, creatures of the Cervidae family, winter and fall seasons, heavy snow, light rain Dislikes- insects, the sun, heavy downpour, when he doesn't get his way Fears:
Death, insects, spiders, and anything sexual. |
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Evelyn Jade Drake
Name:
Evelyn Jade Drake Age:
25 Gender:
Female Species/Race:
Human Occupation:
A dectective by day and private investigative journalist by night. Appearance:
Evelyn stands at 5’6” with a lean but muscular build that hints at a life spent running down leads and staying on her feet for long hours. Her golden blonde hair, often kept in a ponytail, frames a face both striking and reserved. High cheekbones, warm hazel eyes, and a strong jawline gives her a warming aura, that many might consider to be younger than she looks (and with that, they do not take her as seriously). Her wardrobe is a balance of practicality and style: long tan trench coat, dark blouses, tailored dark trousers, and boots with just a hint of edge. A faint scar runs along her left cheek, a reminder of a case gone sideways years ago. Personality:
Evelyn exudes quiet confidence and is known for her ability to stay calm under pressure. While she may seem aloof at first, she’s deeply empathetic beneath her tough exterior—just cautious about who she lets see that side. Her trust is hard to earn, but once it’s gained, she’s fiercely loyal to those she cares about. She’s an expert at reading people, relying on a blend of intuition and sharp observation skills, and has a natural knack for getting people to reveal what they don’t want to. She’s quick-witted with a dry sense of humor, often using sarcasm to mask her vulnerability. Behind her sharp demeanor is a woman who’s spent years chasing shadows, haunted by a past she rarely speaks of. Background: Evelyn grew up in the heart of the city, raised by a single mother who worked multiple jobs just to keep them afloat. Her father’s identity is a mystery, and though Evelyn often wondered about him, the answers never came. Her mother’s death in a car accident when Evelyn was 18 pushed her into the world of private investigation, a career that promised both challenge and independence. However, that surely didn't make her enough money to get by in London, so she joined the police force instead, using her skills in the force to help with her night-time cases in solving the supernatural. Abilities/Skills:
Evelyn won many sport races growing up and is naturally quick and gifted at running, making it easier for her to keep up with suspects on her cases. Goals/Motivations:
Evelyn has never been able to shake the feeling that her life is defined by the cases she solves—never by the things she’s running from. She’s still searching for answers, not just for her clients, but for herself, especially regarding a shadowy case from her past that nearly cost her everything. She feels that one day, she will find out who her father really was and what really killed her mother. Strengths: - Intuitive and Observant: Evelyn notices details most people miss, whether it’s a subtle change in tone or a discrepancy in a suspect’s story.
- Street Smart: Having grown up tough, she knows how to navigate the underbelly of the city and get the job done without getting caught in the crossfire.
- Resourceful: If there’s a way to get what she needs, Evelyn will find it, whether through traditional legwork, hacking, or a well-placed contact.
- Sharp Shooter: Though not her go-to method, she’s trained in self-defense and can handle a gun when necessary.
Weaknesses: - Haunted by the Past: She’s driven by a need to uncover the truth, sometimes to the point of obsession. Her desire for closure often puts her in dangerous situations, and she’s reluctant to leave some cases behind—no matter how much they cost her.
- Trust Issues: Having been betrayed before, she has difficulty relying on others. She’s not one to ask for help and prefers to work alone.
- Emotionally Guarded: While she’s perceptive about others, she keeps her own emotions hidden, which makes it hard for her to form lasting personal relationships.
Relationships:
Mother (Deceased) Father (Deceased) Lily (her best friend) Sergeant (Doofus) Dean Calloway Sergeant Likes/Dislikes:
Evelyn likes to go for runs, especially in the mornings on her days off. She then will meet her friend Lily for a coffee. She does hate small talk, which is why her group is small because it means she can have deep conversations with people. She dislikes Sergeant Calloway, her boss, because he treats her like sh*t and like she doesn't know anything. He knows of her history and recent mental episodes. Fears:
Finding out the truth of her parents.
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An alarm blares, Evelyn rolls over to look at her phone. 6.30am She taps to stop the alarm and sighs, lying on her back in the middle of the cotton sage green sheets of her bed. After a minute or two, she rises to collect her disguarded empty mug from the night before, placing her feet on the cold floor of her apartment, standing up and walking over to the kitchenette of her studio flat. The daylight filters in between the blinds casting eerie shadows over the studio, drawing long shadows of her things. She punches the switch of the kettle to drawing herself another coffee after another long night of investigating. She turns as she waits for the water to boil and faces her cork board filled with information. She sighs in frustration, another night of no leads. Turning back to the kettle she grabs her mug and pours. Buzz Buzz Buzz Evelyn picks up her phone from the counter, where she leaves it to charge overnight. 68% battery Lily - Heyyyyyy, fancy a coffe after your run l8r? Evelyn smiles at the thought and texts back. She grabs her freshly made coffee and wanders back to her bed. |
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Rowan hummed softly to himself as he stood in the lush garden, utterly captivated by the delicate interplay of light and shadow that danced across the landscape. The sun began its slow ascent over the horizon, casting a warm, golden hue that infused the air with a sense of optimism and renewal. Each glimmering ray of sunlight seemed to come alive, pirouetting gracefully across the petals of the blooming roses—each flower a burst of color and fragrance that contributed to a stunning tapestry, painting the serene scene in a riot of hues. Nestled amidst the vibrant emerald greenery was the ‘safehouse’—a charming abode that had the grandeur of a mansion yet exuded a cozy, welcoming atmosphere. Its Victorian-style architecture, with its intricate woodwork and sprawling porches, blended seamlessly with the surrounding countryside, offering a sanctuary of tranquility that felt worlds away from the relentless hustle and bustle of urban London. Towering trees bordered the property, their leaves rustling softly in the gentle breeze, creating a symphony of whispers that only added to the sense of peace within. As Rowan tended to the vibrant blossoms, carefully deadheading the roses and ensuring that each one received just the right amount of morning sunlight, he could sense the stirrings of his unit inside the house. He imagined them fumbling about in their sleepy state, eagerly raiding the kitchen in search of a hearty breakfast. A smile spread across his face as he thought about their impending disappointment—more often than not, they'd confront the stark reality: a pantry stocked with either expired goods or an assortment of barely edible items that passed for food. Such was the peculiar charm of living in this secluded sanctuary, where nature thrived with reckless abandon, but the provisions often fell woefully short. Still, as Rowan breathed in the fresh, floral-scented air, he realized that this unconventional life, with its quirks and challenges, filled him with a profound sense of contentment. The roses he lovingly tended to were a testament to that joy, each bloom a piece of a beautiful puzzle that composed their extraordinary little world. The vampire stood silently, captivated by the slow ascent of the sun, its warm light beginning to creep over the horizon. He squinted against the golden rays, relishing the sensation as they brushed against his pale skin, a rare indulgence before the sun climbed higher and became too fierce to bear. With deliberate movements, he approached a majestic Mountain Ash, its sturdy trunk reaching skyward. He extended his hand to the foliage, fingers gliding over the delicate leaves before pausing at the vibrant clusters of berries that hung like jewels. In ages past, these berries had been interpreted as an omen; a bountiful harvest was said to foretell a long and cruel winter. Though Rowan harbored doubts about such superstitions, there was an undeniable charm in the ritual of gathering them. Each year, he delighted in transforming the ripe, luscious fruit into velvety jams and delectable dishes that blended flavors of nostalgia with his immortal existence. The Mountain Ash stood tall and proud, its invasive nature mirroring his own, yet it embodied a striking beauty that was both intricate and alluring. Its twisting branches and vivid colors painted a picture of resilience, much like Rowan himself, eternally entwined with the cycles of nature—all the while standing apart, a creature of the night. Rowan’s head remained almost motionless, though he could keenly sense the familiar presence looming behind him. He allowed himself a brief moment to acknowledge this presence before he spoke, his voice resonating with a low, contemplative tone. "Did you know that Sorbus aucuparia is commonly referred to as the 'Tree of Protection'?" He directed a sidelong glance, just enough to catch a glimpse of the figure in his periphery, yet he remained focused on the larger world around them. The man standing behind him was none other than Hemlock, a stout figure whose height barely grazed the five-foot mark. His rounded build gave him a sturdy appearance, and his face exuded warmth and approachability. Hemlock’s hair was a fascinating blend of rich brown and almost-blond shades, catching the shimmering light in such a way that his natural highlights seemed to dance with every subtle movement. His cheeks, pleasantly plump, were framed by a welcoming smile that hinted at amiability. It was his ocean-blue eyes, however, that truly captivated; they sparkled with a blend of curiosity and enthusiasm, drawing attention to the keen mind that lay just beneath the surface. Encouraged by the casual yet thoughtful demeanor of his companion, Hemlock made a soft noise of intrigue, prompting Rowan to elaborate. "It was believed to safeguard against witches," Rowan continued, his tone taking on a more reflective quality, as if he were sharing a cherished secret. "The druids held that it protects the spirits of the departed, acting as a bridge between the living and the realm of the ancestors." He paused for a moment, allowing the significance of his words to settle in the air around them, creating a palpable atmosphere of reverence and contemplation. "It also is also called the Tree of Life," He mused. With a distant gaze, Rowan seemed momentarily lost in his thoughts before he added, "Interestingly, the name Rowan is derived from the Irish Ruadhán, which translates to 'red-haired.'” There was a soft warmth in his voice, suggesting an inner connection to the tales of old, as he spoke not just of a plant but of a profound legacy intertwined with mythology, protection, and identity. "And yet, here I stand, with the callsign Rowan, I do not quite understand how I was given this name. For I am certainly not wise," He sighed, that wasn't true, he knew how he came to bear the callsign, with his random spurts of wisdom that just came on a whim. |
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(My jaw just dropped :o) ((Will be switching from third to first person here)) Evelyn got out of the shower, her towel gracing the top of her head and wrapped around her slender physique. She walks over to the bed and dresses into her running gear. Tying her shoe laces, grabbing her keys and phone, she steps outside in the hallway of her apartment building. She locks the door, when her phone vibrates again. 50% battery Lily - So the usual? I'll be waiting at our favourite table ;) "Dammit" She curses under her breath. "I really must get this phone sorted out." She puts her phone back into her jacket pocket and heads down the stairs, that leads out into the street. She opens the door and lets the door swing closed behind her. Stepping out onto the street, she turns to the trees that run adjacent to the building along the path where cyclists and walkers could be seen alike. The hustle and bustle of the steady flow of taxis and buses drive on by. She picks out her airpods and places them into her ears and then selects a song on her phone, withdrawing it again from her pocket. 49% battery Plays Alibi by rudimental. She draws in a breath and starts to jog on the spot. Putting her phone away, she crosses the road and starts jogging. She heads towards Hyde park, as she usually would on a Sunday morning. As she draws closer, the leaves swaying gently in the breeze, as the early summer sun begins to rise. The rich and sweet smell of summer graces her senses, as she continues jogging. After about an hour and half, she slows to a walk, breathing heavily with a gleam of sweat on her brow. Her hair tucked neatly into a ponytail. She turns left and comes closer to the lake in the middle and smiles. She reaches up and removes her airpods and turns off the music. She approaches a coffee shop, the aroma's gently spilling out as an elder gentleman opens the door and proceeds to let her through. "Come in, young lady" "Thank you" She nods and passes him. She wanders over to a table that glows in the morning light and a young lady, with silver blonde hair stands. "Hey! That was good timing, I ordered your favourite, crossiant and caramel latte, EXTRA large, if you know what I mean" she giggles and pushes her medium-length hair of her shoulders. Her blue eyes, casually study me. "Another tough night?" Worry creeps over her face and knits her brows together. I sigh and graciously accept the hug she is offering me. Her slender frame similar to mine, although she is slightly shorter than me, wraps herself around me. She lets go and we both take our positions at the table. A server comes over with the goods Lily had ordered moments before I had arrived. "Do we have to talk about work?" I sigh, brushing the loose trendils of my hair back from my face. "You know, I worry about you. Especially since your mother died and you had that... episode" She takes her mug of coffee and sips. "You say that at least once a week" I mutter " I'm fine, I'm fine." "You don't look like you got any sleep, let alone how you have the energy to jog" She rolls her eyes at me. "I took a cold shower this morning to.... wake me up" I shrug casually. She sighs. "Anyway, you know I hate you fussing and all this small talk, can we pllleeeaase talk about anything else?" I say to her. She sips her coffee again and we start chatting about what she has been researching, taking us on to a path of deeper conversation. She is an oncologist, who has a very busy life style but always makes time for her old university friend. |
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Rowan let out a weary sigh, the sound barely audible above the backdrop of laughter and chatter that filled the kitchen. He busied himself with organizing the space, the familiar scents of pine and freshly harvested produce intertwining in the air around him, wrapping him in a comforting embrace. Earlier, Hemlock had approached him with a request for assistance in tackling the ever-growing list of groceries and the daunting task of stocking their communal kitchen—a responsibility that often felt more overwhelming than it should. As he sorted through the collection of fruits and vegetables, illuminating shades of red, green, and yellow seemed to brighten the otherwise practical setting. The lively buzz of his teammates reverberated around him, a stark contrast to the tranquility he sought in his chores. Jones, with his trademark boisterousness, was the most prominent voice among them; his raucous laughter echoed off the walls, a contagious burst of energy that cut through the more subdued conversations shared by others in the room. Rowan occasionally shot a glance over his shoulder, half expecting to see Hemlock joining in with the merriment. He wondered if Hemlock had managed to escape the whirlwind of Jones’s antics this time or if he was still caught in the wake of his exuberance. A flicker of hope crossed Rowan's mind—perhaps Hemlock had found a brief sanctuary amidst the chaos, a moment of peace away from the boisterous camaraderie that often defined their gatherings. The thought comforted him as he continued to arrange the pantry, carefully stacking cans and jars while stealing glances at his teammates. Rowan quietly immersed himself in the task of stocking the kitchen, carefully and methodically placing the last few items on the shelves and in the pantry. The soft rustle of packaging and the faint clinking of glass echoed in the otherwise silent space as he arranged each piece with precision. He focused intently, ensuring everything was in its rightful spot and that the kitchen would look impeccable by the time he finished. As he prepared to make his escape, a surge of relief washed over him. He moved cautiously toward the back door, each step calculated to avoid any creaky floorboards that tended to betray his presence. He held his breath, hoping to slip out unnoticed when a sudden, sinking feeling gripped him like a vice. Just as he thought he had successfully evaded detection, a familiar voice pierced the stillness of the room. "Rowan!" Jones exclaimed, materializing in front of him like a burst of sunshine. His exuberant grin stretched from ear to ear, illuminating the somewhat dim kitchen with an unexpected brightness. Rowan felt an overwhelming wave of enthusiasm radiating from Jones, whose eyes sparkled with a mix of mischief and excitement that seemed almost too vibrant for the quiet atmosphere of the kitchen. "We were just talking about you!" Jones continued, his voice filled with energy that resonated in the air, reinforcing the notion that his appearance was anything but a coincidence. Rowan's heart raced as he processed the sudden shift in the atmosphere, realizing that his attempt at a stealthy exit had been thwarted. Rowan forced a chuckle, the sound almost hollow as he replied, "Oh, that's nice." He struggled to mask the insincerity in his tone, but fortunately for him, Jones remained blissfully unaware of the facade. “So, me and the guys were thinking—” Jones began, his voice brimming with excitement, a spark of energy radiating from him. Rowan, however, felt a heavy sigh escape him before he could suppress it, a familiar sense of weariness settling in. When he met Jones’ gaze, an unexpected rush coursed through him, causing his pupils to widen instinctively. The subtle connection caused an unspoken tension between them, drawing attention like a moth to a flame. As if compelled by an unseen force, Rowan gently brushed his fingertips against the back of Jones’ hand. The touch was fleeting yet electrifying, sending a shiver of intrigue dancing through the air, momentarily anchoring them in their own world. He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice to a husky whisper, the kind that felt warm and inviting, “Tell me later?” Each word dripped with the promise of something deeper, something alluring. Jones hesitated, his brow creasing in confusion as he processed the moment, the air thick with unsaid thoughts hanging between them. A flicker of understanding crossed his features, but it quickly smoothed out, replaced by an easy smile as he replied, “Yeah, sure.” He stepped back, as if trying to shake off the intensity of their brief connection, like a bird that had just flitted too close to an unfamiliar flame. Rowan felt a thrill course through him. It was a rare occurrence for a mere mortal to catch even a whisper of the manipulative dance he choreographed so effortlessly. Most people were either blissfully unaware or too caught up in their own lives to notice the delicate threads of their reality shifting under his influence. But every so often, he would encounter one who resisted—their resilience or innate awareness striking a chord within him. Those moments thrilled him; it was a delicious challenge to engage with these so-called 'victims' who wriggled against the enchanting grip of his charms. The very act of his pupils dilating was more than a biological response; it was instinctive, a seductive allure designed to ensnare their gaze and bind them in the web of his captivating presence, if only for a heartbeat—a fleeting moment where he held the power to shape their perception. He approached his interactions with a meticulously calculated detachment, a shield that protected him from the emotional turbulence that often ensnared others. In his eyes, each person he encountered was not merely an individual with their own complexities but rather a strategic piece on the vast chessboard of his ambitions—valuable pawns to be manipulated as he pursued his goals. He exercised profound discretion in maintaining a careful proximity to his allies, understanding that trust was a fragile commodity, yet he found himself more drawn to the enigmatic nature of his enemies, preferring to keep them even closer. To him, adversaries were often more pliable than friends, their emotions a complex tapestry woven with threads of doubt, insecurity, and ambition that he could skillfully unravel. He observed the way their expressions flickered with unease during uncomfortable silences, a subconscious acknowledgment of the turmoil that simmered just beneath the surface. This keen awareness allowed him to exploit the emotional undercurrents present in their interactions, deftly reshaping their feelings and motivations to align with his own strategic objectives. In their shared moments of silence, he could almost hear the whispers of their thoughts, understanding that their struggles made them malleable. The insights he gained from their vulnerabilities proved far more effective in advancing his schemes than any attempt to influence those who believed they had gained a true understanding of him—who saw only the facade he allowed them to perceive. In a world full of tangled relationships and hidden agendas, he reveled in the power that came from knowing how to manipulate the chaotic emotions of others to serve his own purposes. |
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The front door shut as I stepped back into my apartment. Hours had passed before I returned home to see the clock on my nightstand turn to 12:02pm. I walk over to the bed, the sheets stillh hung precariously from this morning. I strip out of my sweaty clothes and move towards the bathroom, taking a warm shower this time. The steam soaking into my hair and pores. My mind had eased over the last few hours but quickly it reverted its attention to the information board that graced one side of my studio apartment. I sigh as I step out of the shower, quickly wrapping the towel around myself. I step out into the now warm apartment as the sun hits the wooden floors creating warm stepping stones leading towards the bed. I quickly change into something more comfortable and walk over to the kitchenette to inspect my cupboards for some lunch. I work up some quick scrabbled eggs on toast before realising I needed to head back out to pick up some dinner later. A quick check of my phone tells me it's now 13.20pm. Shops will be closed at 4. 39% battery Lily - Hey hunnn, great catch up, speak to you next week. Ily x I make my way to the door to leave, when I catch the information board and a note flutters down from where it had been pinned. I walk back over to it and crouch down to pick it up, turning it face side up. A face appears, a sturdy looking male with a scar running along his cheek and then.... a thought flash through my mind. I make a quick note to myself and play with the thought at the back of my mind. Heading out, I head to the nearest shop to looking for some dinner. |
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