one passing night
the evening is spread out against the sky
January 13th, 2012 
ladyhyperion: (wha?)
Seira scowled at the racks of dresses and gowns, arms wrapped around herself. She knew she'd have to find one that didn't make her look completely ridiculous, she couldn't wear her usual clothes to a formal affair no matter how good she looked in them. She was a girl and needed to wear a dress for this.

She didn't hate dresses, not really, but they didn't always fit or flatter her and if there was a fight it would very quickly get ripped and ruined.

"Lets get this over with." She grumbled, glancing at the person she'd come in to this potential hellhole with. Two pairs of eyes were better than one, and maybe a second opinion would find something that didn't look like a cross dresser or costume.

[OOC: Feel free to suddenly bring in a dinosaur or seven to interrupt this potential trainwreck.]
distorting: (glare ✄ sick fuck)
[He's sitting cross-legged on a bed in a room that isn't very well lit. The only light that's coming in is from a nearby window, but even then, the dark seems to be crowding the room. Tate seems to stand out from the dark, his blond, messy hair being the only thing that really makes him stand out in the first place.

There is a long quiet that feels awkward and almost wrong as he slowly gets up from the bed to look around the room. He looks familiar enough with it, like he's been there for his whole life, but there's something in his eyes that suggests a longing for something more. It's like nostalgia had taken over him completely. He looks perplexed for a moment, staring down at the bed sheets before looking up abruptly, straight at a memory, or perhaps someone who's not supposed to be in his dream at all. ]


I'm sick of being here.
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