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[Jul. 13th, 2009|07:12 pm] |
Who: House and Wilson
What: Lounging around the house
Where: Their apartment
When: Monday evening
Rating: TBA
( Here we are, once again ) |
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[Jul. 13th, 2009|07:25 pm] |
Who: Kia and Eliot
What: That thing...you know that thing.
Where: Their bedroom
When: Now.
Warnings: Who knows, none at the moment.
The past few days had been pretty stressful for Kia. It felt like suddenly the stable platform she'd been cruising on had been yanked out from underneath her and no amount of alcohol, drugs and sex with random men had been able to make it better.
She wasn't quite sure how it happened, but she was pretty sure it had been all her fault. Which did not make it any better. So right now, she was in desperate need of some kind of comfort. Desperate enough to try cuddling with her husband. Not that she was going to call it that. What was she a fucking prissy girl?
After she got done talking to Eliot, she began to pace her bedroom. She was slightly nervous. |
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[Jul. 13th, 2009|10:46 pm] |
Who: Crowley, Aziraphale
What: Reciting the Rosary. (You have to ask, at this point?)
When/Where: Backdated to soon after this log/Aziraphale's new bookshop in London, specifically the greenhouse on the roof
Warnings: Likely.
It was a sunny afternoon in London, by the time Crowley had finished what he'd had to do in Eden. That was how he was referring to it, in his head; 'what he'd had to do'. Considering the details- or much of anything about the situation- just served to raise his temper, and that was dangerous, for both himself and his surroundings. In an effort to relax, he'd willed himself up to his greenhouse, originally with the intent to soothe himself by scaring some life into his plants. However, the scene was as lush and exotic as he demanded of his gardens, and even he didn't have the heart to ask for more from them. It was steamy, hot, and all too inviting to leave to brave the throng of confused mortals who'd erroneously assumed the shope was still in business. With a bit of thought, Crowley was back to his 'original' (demon) form, a larger-than-life green boa, curled around the base of a small tree in the room.
Some might define it as sulking. But they'd better not do it where Crowley could hear. |
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