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Who: Della Kheelan and Lula Wright
What: Hanging out, door open, crafting crafty things
Where: Room 101
When: Saturday afternoon 10/25
Rating: PG/PG-13 for mild language possibly
Status: In progress
Della could fit into small places and balance on odd objects, and so it was Saturday afternoon, and she was perched precariously in the window sill of the room she shared with Lula, who she hadn't seen much since just returning on Thursday from her own unintentional ritual of late Summer/early Fall infirmary visits. Della, when possible, was never in her room, unless the window was open or she was otherwise disinclined to be outside if only because she'd get immersed in personal non-academic projects, like now.
Knees bent close in to her chest and kept warm with fuzzy grey leggings (the rest of her snuggled in an oversized ivory dress shirt), Della's deft and crafty fingers were dancing along the insides of a glass jar as she carefully placed one fall leaf after another along the inside of the glass. She had four other jars, still empty, lined up on the window sill in a row by her feet, and big stack of orange and red and golden fall leaves balanced on one knee. She liked to collect jars, and most of the jars under her bed were full of fresh spring water (her favorite kind), but a few were always left empty for her impulses to get crafty. While in most contexts a collection glass jars full of spring water underneath a girl's bed might be interpreted as oddly compulsive behavior, at L'Academie it was par for course in Della Kheelan's world.
Today, her project was fall leaf lanterns, which were obviously a whole lot more exciting than studying, which she knew she was overdo for.
The open window had tousled her hair more than it'd been tousled already, and she was biting her lower lip in a fierce moment of concentration as she placed one more leaf.
She was in her own little world, though the door to the room was open likely from Della's absent mindedness or blown open from the open window's draft - and the lilting melody she was humming to herself drifted from the room and into the hall.
What: Hanging out, door open, crafting crafty things
Where: Room 101
When: Saturday afternoon 10/25
Rating: PG/PG-13 for mild language possibly
Status: In progress
Della could fit into small places and balance on odd objects, and so it was Saturday afternoon, and she was perched precariously in the window sill of the room she shared with Lula, who she hadn't seen much since just returning on Thursday from her own unintentional ritual of late Summer/early Fall infirmary visits. Della, when possible, was never in her room, unless the window was open or she was otherwise disinclined to be outside if only because she'd get immersed in personal non-academic projects, like now.
Knees bent close in to her chest and kept warm with fuzzy grey leggings (the rest of her snuggled in an oversized ivory dress shirt), Della's deft and crafty fingers were dancing along the insides of a glass jar as she carefully placed one fall leaf after another along the inside of the glass. She had four other jars, still empty, lined up on the window sill in a row by her feet, and big stack of orange and red and golden fall leaves balanced on one knee. She liked to collect jars, and most of the jars under her bed were full of fresh spring water (her favorite kind), but a few were always left empty for her impulses to get crafty. While in most contexts a collection glass jars full of spring water underneath a girl's bed might be interpreted as oddly compulsive behavior, at L'Academie it was par for course in Della Kheelan's world.
Today, her project was fall leaf lanterns, which were obviously a whole lot more exciting than studying, which she knew she was overdo for.
The open window had tousled her hair more than it'd been tousled already, and she was biting her lower lip in a fierce moment of concentration as she placed one more leaf.
She was in her own little world, though the door to the room was open likely from Della's absent mindedness or blown open from the open window's draft - and the lilting melody she was humming to herself drifted from the room and into the hall.