|Helen of Troy...Sparta...Troy... (thefacethat) wrote in nevermore_logs,|
@ 2016-05-04 12:42:00
|Entry tags:||helen of troy, menelaus|
WHO: Menelaus and Helen
WHEN: Wednesday afternoon
WHERE: Quiet little coffee house not far from Briseis' apartment
Even though Helen knew it was next to impossible for Paris to be back on the streets so soon after being killed, she was incredibly apprehensive about going out. She didn't want to venture too far from the safety of Briseis' apartment, so she indicated a coffee shop that was less than a block away. She left a note for Briseis telling her where she was going and that if she wasn't back by a certain time to come looking for her. She figured from now on it was a good idea to start telling people exactly where she was going and an estimated time frame to expect her back. She didn't need to go off vanishing anymore. It was rather tiring.
Helen hardly had the energy to even attempt to make herself look nice. She just wore jeans and a t-shirt... and tennis shoes (because she needed to be able to run). Her hair was pulled up into a messy bun. She also hadn't grabbed any of her nice clothes. It had been jeans, undies, and t-shirts. She had enough money to buy new clothes if she needed to. Right now, she didn't feel compelled to do that. These clothes were just fine. And comfortable. And they reflected her mood.
She was the first to arrive, taking a seat at the most secluded table to place had to offer. A little booth in the very back with a high back. Every now and then she peered around the seat to watch for Menelaus. She remembered then that it would be obvious to her when he arrived. Until then, she just sat there staring at a painting hanging above the opposite side of the table. She wanted to feel that happy. Sure, she was free but she was far from happy.