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night time: shiloh & harlow
Who: Shiloh F & Harlow J
What: Night time
Where: Bad diner to start
When: Recent
Warnings: None atm!
True to her word this go round, it was well after midnight(although not yet 1 AM) when her bicycle tires crunched the gravel of the diner's poorly maintained parking lot. The bicycle was light blue with red and white accents, mock vintage in that it was reminiscent of old French cinema or some modern, kitschy Wes Anderson but was probably mass produced and delivered next-day by Amazon these days. Not that Harlow minded. She no longer had the luxury of being particular, or of shopping anywhere except online quite honestly. She was mostly happy to have been allowed the bike at all, considering how restrictive her keeper could be on any given day.
The bike, just like her phone, was a saving grace. It was freedom, an extension of herself away from the lake. It was movement that she craved, excitement, something other than still lake water. The bike was a statement itself, and it didn't move silent through the night. There was a tarot card tucked into the spokes of a wheel, and it made a click-hiss sort of sound every time the wheel turned round. There was also a bell on the handlebars, something small and chrome, controlled by the thumb, situated to the right of the white wicker basket. She pushed it when rolling up to the diner, and the bell made a ring like a metallic, soprano purr.
She wore pink. A satin slip dress over the long sleeves of a red fishnet top. The little dress flowed to a stop somewhere above her knees, but she compensated with long striped socks over pink tights, and fluffy white boots on her feet. There was a fluffy white coat with a fluffy white hood atop her pink hair, but that was just practicality against winter month air. Birds usually stuck farther south.
The diner was open, it was a late night kind of place, but there didn't seem to be many people inside. Harlow rolled into the parking lot and back by the dumpsters, hitting the bell on her handlebars with high hopes of seeing somebody that she knew so little about.
What: Night time
Where: Bad diner to start
When: Recent
Warnings: None atm!
True to her word this go round, it was well after midnight(although not yet 1 AM) when her bicycle tires crunched the gravel of the diner's poorly maintained parking lot. The bicycle was light blue with red and white accents, mock vintage in that it was reminiscent of old French cinema or some modern, kitschy Wes Anderson but was probably mass produced and delivered next-day by Amazon these days. Not that Harlow minded. She no longer had the luxury of being particular, or of shopping anywhere except online quite honestly. She was mostly happy to have been allowed the bike at all, considering how restrictive her keeper could be on any given day.
The bike, just like her phone, was a saving grace. It was freedom, an extension of herself away from the lake. It was movement that she craved, excitement, something other than still lake water. The bike was a statement itself, and it didn't move silent through the night. There was a tarot card tucked into the spokes of a wheel, and it made a click-hiss sort of sound every time the wheel turned round. There was also a bell on the handlebars, something small and chrome, controlled by the thumb, situated to the right of the white wicker basket. She pushed it when rolling up to the diner, and the bell made a ring like a metallic, soprano purr.
She wore pink. A satin slip dress over the long sleeves of a red fishnet top. The little dress flowed to a stop somewhere above her knees, but she compensated with long striped socks over pink tights, and fluffy white boots on her feet. There was a fluffy white coat with a fluffy white hood atop her pink hair, but that was just practicality against winter month air. Birds usually stuck farther south.
The diner was open, it was a late night kind of place, but there didn't seem to be many people inside. Harlow rolled into the parking lot and back by the dumpsters, hitting the bell on her handlebars with high hopes of seeing somebody that she knew so little about.