cv (ephemeras) wrote in repose, @ 2018-07-29 21:24:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | *forum, *log, aiden baptiste, atticus mcvickers, frank rook, newt penhaligon, steve mcrory, ~plot: postcards |
"Beauty," Newt P, Aiden B, Steve M
[Locked to "Beauty"]
[He doesn't bother with anon.] Still interested in that coffee?
[Locked to Newt P]
[A few days after the moon. Un-anoning.] Didn't kill me. Thank you for that.
[Aloud: Aiden B]
[In his study. No one's dying today, so he's not sure if anything will come from it. But old Mrs. Bailey, on the first floor, is failing rapidly. Might be enough. Aloud:] Need to find a less morbid way to talk to you, Aiden.
[Later:]
[Outside Vade: Atticus/Steve]
The moon had been a quiet one. Still had the same aches and pains that always came after, but at least he hadn't tried to bite his own leg off. Was left wondering what the pack did, but it was idle thought. Had never really belonged to the pack, so not spending the moon with them wasn't really distressing to Atticus. Had found an abandoned building by the docks and holed up there. Might have been a bad idea, staying in the city for the moon, but had been counting on the potion to work, and it had. Wasn't sure if he'd keep using it, but at least there was the option now. Was glad of the option. Choice, Atticus found, was heady stuff.
Now, was waiting outside Vade. Was under-dressed, and he looked worse for wear, but figured Steve would forgive him. Had only been back to Repose a few times over the past weeks, and that was to pick up books from his study. Was hard for an old man, living out of a duffel bag.