Ashley Legard (wings_of_stone) wrote in thehurst, @ 2015-07-06 18:16:00 |
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Entry tags: | derekjames, wings_of_stone |
The Night was Theirs
Characters: Ash, open
When: close to midnight, Monday night
Location: Cemetery
Warnings/Rating: None anticipated, but tbd
Summary: Ash "works" while watching for anyone who might want to chat in a dark cemetery
Manual labor was, mostly, beneath her. But she had expensive tastes and her art sales didn't always cover everything, especially in slower months. Summer should be good though; there'd be plenty of tourists wanting something from a gallery, and she was sure she'd have something for some of them. It was one of the few perks of summer, as far as she was concerned. The longer days might thrill the humans, but they bored her. Give her the dark depths of winter any day, when she had more time to do things. To roam, to create, to find trouble to get into. At least the days were shortening, albeit more slowly than she cared for. But it would be fall soon enough, and then winter, and the city would be buried in snow and the nights would be hers again. Well, hers, and the vampires, and the night owls, and the wolves, and ... whatever else roamed at night. The the humans of the city were infinitely less active during the winter months. But it was summer, now, and she was living her summer life. Long, dull days and short nights full of multitasking. After finishing up with the grave she had to dig for the funeral the next day, Ash set about roaming the graveyard. She was aware of a young man in a very heated conversation with something she couldn't see or hear, but that was typical for her nights here. From the looks of things, he wouldn't be here much longer, but maybe some of the others would come through. The hardest part about having a job that ate up so much of her free time was the loneliness that came with it. She liked to have conversation partners. Most nights, there was someone, but aside from the boy talking to the ghost (or himself; for all she knew, he was a crazy man), she saw no one, and certainly no one familiar. A pout tugged her lips, but she was sure someone would roam through eventually. Someone who wanted to see her, or someone who simply liked to walk the quiet dark at night. Either way, she was sure she wouldn't be bored for long. If no one of interest showed up, she had a sketchbook and a comfortable mausoleum to keep her occupied for an hour or two. |