(no subject)
Characters: grab-my-bells and OPEN to dreamers
Date/Time: September 13th, nighttime
Location: Dreamscapes
Rating: ...G to start with.
Summary: Bell dreams of puppies. No, really.
Note: Alter what you wish.
---
You enter an otherwise unassuming but friendly-seeming house. The sun shines in through a few open windows. Outside, the air smells of Springtime and occasionally leaves flutter on the trees from a light and temperate breeze. Birds chirp. Life seems to go on. Sometimes the weather outside may darken, rumbling with the roar of thunder, and hail will batter the windows and walls, but it never comes inside.
Inside the house, the clocks have stopped. The time on the clocks is irrelevant. They have, in fact, all stopped at different times.
In the few shadows cast, there are doors to other parts of the house. These are locked, maybe from the inside, since no keyhole is readily apparent.
There are dogs of varying ages laying about the room, chewing on toys, running up to greet you. Their noises are friendly but not overwhelming. Perhaps they are even comforting. Around each one's neck is a collar with a bell on it that jingles when it moves, and a tag naming it, but the names are difficult to read. Though you may read your own on one.
A book may be discarded on the coffee table, but inside it will be almost blank except for a few words some 50-or-so pages in that Bell recalls from his dream.
Bell is sleeping comfortably on the couch, a small pug on his chest, also asleep. The ever-present scarf is almost askew enough to see features.
Date/Time: September 13th, nighttime
Location: Dreamscapes
Rating: ...G to start with.
Summary: Bell dreams of puppies. No, really.
Note: Alter what you wish.
---
You enter an otherwise unassuming but friendly-seeming house. The sun shines in through a few open windows. Outside, the air smells of Springtime and occasionally leaves flutter on the trees from a light and temperate breeze. Birds chirp. Life seems to go on. Sometimes the weather outside may darken, rumbling with the roar of thunder, and hail will batter the windows and walls, but it never comes inside.
Inside the house, the clocks have stopped. The time on the clocks is irrelevant. They have, in fact, all stopped at different times.
In the few shadows cast, there are doors to other parts of the house. These are locked, maybe from the inside, since no keyhole is readily apparent.
There are dogs of varying ages laying about the room, chewing on toys, running up to greet you. Their noises are friendly but not overwhelming. Perhaps they are even comforting. Around each one's neck is a collar with a bell on it that jingles when it moves, and a tag naming it, but the names are difficult to read. Though you may read your own on one.
A book may be discarded on the coffee table, but inside it will be almost blank except for a few words some 50-or-so pages in that Bell recalls from his dream.
Bell is sleeping comfortably on the couch, a small pug on his chest, also asleep. The ever-present scarf is almost askew enough to see features.