Jasper (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
leitstern) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
isleofavalon2021-08-04 01:04 am
leitstern) wrote in isleofavalon2021-08-04 01:04 am
Entry tags:
Two can be as bad as one
🧙 WHO: Hendrik and Jasper
⚔️️ WHAT: Conversation
🕒 WHEN: 1st week in August
🗺️ WHERE: Home
⚠️ WARNINGS: Editing as needed
[The light on the porch shines though the sky is dark with night. Jasper lounges in one of the chairs, feet dumped on the coffee table. One hand holds a book, a glass of red wine in the other. A drained bottle stands beside his chair, uncorked and shaded green. The door is open to the garden, letting in the smell of grass and summer heat.
He flips his hair away from his eyes and looks over his shoulder when he hears the front door. The releasing of a latch and the creaking of wood catching his attention, making him seethe. He bristles in his chair, cradling his wine and his loneliness. But he chooses this stange relationship over his anger and sets his glass on the table. For the most part, he keeps silent and continues reading, lost in that strange world between the waking world and his unconscious.
The words blur on the page as he slurs his own. Is Hendrik a foot past the door? He doesn't really know but he'll yell anyway.]
Ah! The prodigal son returns at last!
⚔️️ WHAT: Conversation
🕒 WHEN: 1st week in August
🗺️ WHERE: Home
⚠️ WARNINGS: Editing as needed
[The light on the porch shines though the sky is dark with night. Jasper lounges in one of the chairs, feet dumped on the coffee table. One hand holds a book, a glass of red wine in the other. A drained bottle stands beside his chair, uncorked and shaded green. The door is open to the garden, letting in the smell of grass and summer heat.
He flips his hair away from his eyes and looks over his shoulder when he hears the front door. The releasing of a latch and the creaking of wood catching his attention, making him seethe. He bristles in his chair, cradling his wine and his loneliness. But he chooses this stange relationship over his anger and sets his glass on the table. For the most part, he keeps silent and continues reading, lost in that strange world between the waking world and his unconscious.
The words blur on the page as he slurs his own. Is Hendrik a foot past the door? He doesn't really know but he'll yell anyway.]
Ah! The prodigal son returns at last!