It’s freshly noon when Sciel gets back from doing the shopping. (If you can call picking things up and walking out with them “shopping”, anyway.) It’s as if she’s lived an eternity here already, or at the least tumbled headfirst into this place and gotten back up on her feet with a full schedule: up when the noise around the apartment kicks up, meditations, breakfast with Gustave and Maelle, tidying, a run that turns into a wander around the city, back for lunch, on and on and on. It’s easy, this life. Near weightless.
It must be, given how much space they all need to decompress. Gustave most of all, but he has Maelle at his side much of the time, and Sciel is not inclined to think anything is gunning for him. Verso, on the other hand, needs some sort of tether, lest she find him off his rocker in a cave somewhere.
So: here’s Sciel, flip-flopping her way down the hall in sandals, one hand wrangling a paper shopping bag and a six pack of beer, and the other arm balancing a flat cardboard box with a lid that sags slightly in the middle. It’s left a warm, reddened spot where it presses against her bare ribs.
Knock knock, Verso. Or rather, kick-kick, as she doesn’t have a free hand to knock with; a drum with the edge of her sandal will have to do.
@verso, knock knock
It must be, given how much space they all need to decompress. Gustave most of all, but he has Maelle at his side much of the time, and Sciel is not inclined to think anything is gunning for him. Verso, on the other hand, needs some sort of tether, lest she find him off his rocker in a cave somewhere.
So: here’s Sciel, flip-flopping her way down the hall in sandals, one hand wrangling a paper shopping bag and a six pack of beer, and the other arm balancing a flat cardboard box with a lid that sags slightly in the middle. It’s left a warm, reddened spot where it presses against her bare ribs.
Knock knock, Verso. Or rather, kick-kick, as she doesn’t have a free hand to knock with; a drum with the edge of her sandal will have to do.