(no subject)
Week Name/Date/Time: 'The Minister is Elected' / Wed, Nov 9 / 5:07 pm
Location: Courtyard
Open to: Sean
Currently involving: Addy
Ho hum. The world is glum.
Adelaide Adorable Adams stared down at her top secret private journal meant for very important business of the writing sort and was displeased with the melancholy words at the top of the page. Yes, the world was glum, but did it have to be? Surely not. There must be a way around all this cloudiness and murder and, well... lack of answers. After all, when Addy could not find answers, she simply invented them and put them in her stories. That was the way to sleep better. Or perhaps never sleep, depending on how you looked at it. Her finger itched a bit, and she rubbed it, spreading the ink stains further along her knuckles without noticing. The quill was back in her left hand, poised on the parchment. What was a good answer to glum?
...Rum.
Addy smiled secretly, and kept writing.
Ho hum. The world is glum. So be a dear, and share our rum!
We've bottles full, and tumblers spilled
And hearts content with stomachs filled
No trouble spent, it's our design
To quench you out of your malign!
So sally forth! Come one, come all! The rum awaits your beck and call!
In a matter of a few short minutes she had a dandy on her page, a real gem. Addy was almost tempted to bring it to Don so he could post it as an advertisement for The Three Broomsticks if he liked. This perhaps deviated from her normal writing forte, but she rather liked it. It felt... well, naughty! It was about alcohol, wasn't it?! Adelaide chortled to herself and scanned the words and structure once more, wondering if she ought to make changes. Well, whether or not anyone else fancied it, the poem had certainly elevated her mood. Well done, well done, pip pip! She fished into her bag for something else to entertain herself with. There was no one else nearby to wave the poem about and shout at, so she would have to make do. Sitting by this tree in the courtyard (on the ground, no less) didn't really do for drawing company, she supposed. What was she to do, go out and play tag? Pah. Still pawing around in her bag, she felt something squishy and round.
Oooh. Oh, yes. Yesssss. She squealed, and drew it out. A red, spongy clown nose. Rowena only knew what it was doing in her bag. Quickly, her face lost all expression, and she put it on. What, everything is normal here, nothing to see, carry on.
Location: Courtyard
Open to: Sean
Currently involving: Addy
Ho hum. The world is glum.
Adelaide Adorable Adams stared down at her top secret private journal meant for very important business of the writing sort and was displeased with the melancholy words at the top of the page. Yes, the world was glum, but did it have to be? Surely not. There must be a way around all this cloudiness and murder and, well... lack of answers. After all, when Addy could not find answers, she simply invented them and put them in her stories. That was the way to sleep better. Or perhaps never sleep, depending on how you looked at it. Her finger itched a bit, and she rubbed it, spreading the ink stains further along her knuckles without noticing. The quill was back in her left hand, poised on the parchment. What was a good answer to glum?
...Rum.
Addy smiled secretly, and kept writing.
Ho hum. The world is glum. So be a dear, and share our rum!
We've bottles full, and tumblers spilled
And hearts content with stomachs filled
No trouble spent, it's our design
To quench you out of your malign!
So sally forth! Come one, come all! The rum awaits your beck and call!
In a matter of a few short minutes she had a dandy on her page, a real gem. Addy was almost tempted to bring it to Don so he could post it as an advertisement for The Three Broomsticks if he liked. This perhaps deviated from her normal writing forte, but she rather liked it. It felt... well, naughty! It was about alcohol, wasn't it?! Adelaide chortled to herself and scanned the words and structure once more, wondering if she ought to make changes. Well, whether or not anyone else fancied it, the poem had certainly elevated her mood. Well done, well done, pip pip! She fished into her bag for something else to entertain herself with. There was no one else nearby to wave the poem about and shout at, so she would have to make do. Sitting by this tree in the courtyard (on the ground, no less) didn't really do for drawing company, she supposed. What was she to do, go out and play tag? Pah. Still pawing around in her bag, she felt something squishy and round.
Oooh. Oh, yes. Yesssss. She squealed, and drew it out. A red, spongy clown nose. Rowena only knew what it was doing in her bag. Quickly, her face lost all expression, and she put it on. What, everything is normal here, nothing to see, carry on.