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Semi-ooc: Linkdrop of Doom!
May. 11th, 2007 12:43 amTags:
Room 418, Thursday morning
Mar. 22nd, 2007 12:34 pmThis time, if someone were to peek over Door's shoulder, they'd see her finishing up ( the lamest linkdrop ever. )
They'd be especially bored, if they did, though.
Every so often she glances distrustfully at a row of socks tacked to the bulletin-board behind her desk with pencils. They're not moving, no, but they might.
__
[OOC: Open like a not-closed item.]
They'd be especially bored, if they did, though.
Every so often she glances distrustfully at a row of socks tacked to the bulletin-board behind her desk with pencils. They're not moving, no, but they might.
__
[OOC: Open like a not-closed item.]
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Room 418, Thursday morning
Feb. 15th, 2007 10:26 amAfter sleeping in yesterday and then doing nothing more strenuous than talking to Aly and leaving a gift for Faithful (indeed she's done nothing more strenuous this week than go to class, join a few clubs and play charades) -- Door's found herself awake unreasonably early for a day when she has no classes. So she's cleaning up her notes for music (not that she has many besides 'get the mouth parts right' and 'don't remind the judges of relatives they don't like'), Defensce Against Malicious Magics and Driver's Education.
That takes sadly less time than she thought it would, and makes her sadly less sleepy than she hoped it would, so she peeks her head out into the hall to see if anyone's made something delicious-smelling in the common room this morning. Instead, she finds something hanging from the doorknob.
"...Seely? Why did someone leave a worm-scarf full of candy on our door?"
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[For the roomie, but open for visitors after.]
That takes sadly less time than she thought it would, and makes her sadly less sleepy than she hoped it would, so she peeks her head out into the hall to see if anyone's made something delicious-smelling in the common room this morning. Instead, she finds something hanging from the doorknob.
"...Seely? Why did someone leave a worm-scarf full of candy on our door?"
__
[For the roomie, but open for visitors after.]
Room 418 - all evening and into the night
Feb. 2nd, 2007 12:30 amDoor would scream, if she could, but currently she's running through the tunnels of London Below, chased by something she can't put a name to because she has no breath to name it with. Pity there's no protective talisman against this darkness, nor anything coming to carry her away from it. Even the trains are still and silent as she races through the Underground. Every door she passes is locked, and the touch of her hands does nothing; her fingers slide through the keyholes, useless and insubstantial, but the doors themselves stay solid, keeping her out. So she runs, and it gets colder and harder to breathe, and she runs some more.
~
Funny thing... one of several.. about Door's family? They heal really fast. Especially after a good night's sleep.
That's pretty interesting for the shadows currently hiding out under her bed, because all they have to do is creep up, steal some warmth, then slide back down and wait for her to recover.
Of course they're hungry and not entirely patient. Plus? Shuddering under the bedclothes as you grow more and more translucent and less and less... there, is not exactly a good night's sleep.
_
[Just establishy; to the roomie, she just looks like she's feeling ill and hiding under the covers trying to get some sleep.]
~
Funny thing... one of several.. about Door's family? They heal really fast. Especially after a good night's sleep.
That's pretty interesting for the shadows currently hiding out under her bed, because all they have to do is creep up, steal some warmth, then slide back down and wait for her to recover.
Of course they're hungry and not entirely patient. Plus? Shuddering under the bedclothes as you grow more and more translucent and less and less... there, is not exactly a good night's sleep.
_
[Just establishy; to the roomie, she just looks like she's feeling ill and hiding under the covers trying to get some sleep.]
Room 418, Tuesday morning, before classes
Jan. 23rd, 2007 09:52 amDoor's studying for Driver's Education. She's not debating whether putting Seely's things in the hallway is actually more trouble than he's worth. She's not that petty.
Mostly. Even if she probably did build up enough good karma last week by helping to find and rescue Bridge and Z, that she can afford a little pettiness.
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[OOC: For Teh No Longer Drunk Or Irish Roomie]
Mostly. Even if she probably did build up enough good karma last week by helping to find and rescue Bridge and Z, that she can afford a little pettiness.
__
[OOC: For Teh No Longer Drunk Or Irish Roomie]
Room 418, afternoon
Jan. 17th, 2007 03:29 pmDoor doesn't brood, despite the fact that lying on your bed with your chin on your hands staring at nothing might look like brooding. It's a waste of time, doesn't make things better and it certainly doesn't make you feel better when you're unhappy.
But what's been -- aside from a certain best-forgotten adventure in the library -- a ( great week ) fetched up on a sour note last night.
It bothers her, this idea of losing a sense you've had since you were tiny. She can imagine being dead more easily -- too easily -- than she can imagine being ... blinded, like that. Yet she keeps trying to wrap her mind around it, and that bothers her too, but there's got to be a reason for it.
So it's not brooding. It's productive. She just doesn't know what it's producing yet.
[Locked to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
connernotconnor, lest my brain go splodey. You wouldn't want that all over your friendslist. Icky icky ptang, no.]
But what's been -- aside from a certain best-forgotten adventure in the library -- a ( great week ) fetched up on a sour note last night.
It bothers her, this idea of losing a sense you've had since you were tiny. She can imagine being dead more easily -- too easily -- than she can imagine being ... blinded, like that. Yet she keeps trying to wrap her mind around it, and that bothers her too, but there's got to be a reason for it.
So it's not brooding. It's productive. She just doesn't know what it's producing yet.
[Locked to
connernotconnor, lest my brain go splodey. You wouldn't want that all over your friendslist. Icky icky ptang, no.]Room 418, Lunchtimeish and onwards
Nov. 6th, 2006 01:50 pmDoor is writing a letter. Of sorts.
( de Carabas: )
__
....yeah, right. Door snickers, trying to imagine him caring about that sort of thing, then writes on a small slip of paper.
( de Carabas: )
She shuts the piece of paper inside the compartment, slips a short, cryptic message about how to open it into the silver tube on the bird's leg, then opens the window. Opens the window, rather, reaching for the city-smell high above London instead of the salty air of Fandom Island. It's only a smaller door, after all; an opening is an opening, and it's certainly a big enough door for a pigeon to pass through.
//de Carabas// she says to it, cooing softly and stroking the top of its head from old habit, despite a mechanical bird presumably not caring about that sort of thing.
//Chimney!// it chirps in a tone half enthusiastic, half impatient, and flutters off into the air.
Door rather hopes that was a yes, as she closes the window again, then on a whim, opens it the regular way, letting in the fresh, cool island breeze.
[The door's closed, but the post's open!]
( de Carabas: )
__
....yeah, right. Door snickers, trying to imagine him caring about that sort of thing, then writes on a small slip of paper.
( de Carabas: )
She shuts the piece of paper inside the compartment, slips a short, cryptic message about how to open it into the silver tube on the bird's leg, then opens the window. Opens the window, rather, reaching for the city-smell high above London instead of the salty air of Fandom Island. It's only a smaller door, after all; an opening is an opening, and it's certainly a big enough door for a pigeon to pass through.
//de Carabas// she says to it, cooing softly and stroking the top of its head from old habit, despite a mechanical bird presumably not caring about that sort of thing.
//Chimney!// it chirps in a tone half enthusiastic, half impatient, and flutters off into the air.
Door rather hopes that was a yes, as she closes the window again, then on a whim, opens it the regular way, letting in the fresh, cool island breeze.
[The door's closed, but the post's open!]
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