RP: Boredom
Characters: Madam Rosmerta
Location: Rosie's bedroom at The 3Bs
Date: July 10, 1999, late
Status: Private
Summary: Rosie heads off to bed after a slow night
Completion: Complete
It was surprising how much Rosmerta noticed when there were only a dozen patrons hanging out in the pub and she had a server and a bartender on duty that night. While the summer always brought great crowds, tonight was slow. Too slow for three people. "Ceres," she called out to the witch tending bar, "I'm done for the night. Lock up and I'll see you tomorrow."
Waving to a table of young men, celebrating a birthday, Rosie entered the kitchen and took the back stairs to her her suite. There was a small sitting room with a fireplace and the same furniture her parents brought with them from Ireland. Even the room she currently claimed as her own was her parents.
She walked into the bedroom, yawning, for no particular reason other than it was dark and she was in her room. The night was productive; she began creating a new brew and made menus for the next week. Yet, I am bored. she thought as she changed out of her jeans and Pig t-shirt into a silk nightie.
As if on automatic, Rosmerta went through her nightly ritual; brush teeth, wash face, clean up any work laying around the room. Even out her nightly ritual, Rosie still felt restless. Claiming under the covers, she pulled a book from the nightstand.
Maybe it's not boredom; maybe it's loneliness
Location: Rosie's bedroom at The 3Bs
Date: July 10, 1999, late
Status: Private
Summary: Rosie heads off to bed after a slow night
Completion: Complete
It was surprising how much Rosmerta noticed when there were only a dozen patrons hanging out in the pub and she had a server and a bartender on duty that night. While the summer always brought great crowds, tonight was slow. Too slow for three people. "Ceres," she called out to the witch tending bar, "I'm done for the night. Lock up and I'll see you tomorrow."
Waving to a table of young men, celebrating a birthday, Rosie entered the kitchen and took the back stairs to her her suite. There was a small sitting room with a fireplace and the same furniture her parents brought with them from Ireland. Even the room she currently claimed as her own was her parents.
She walked into the bedroom, yawning, for no particular reason other than it was dark and she was in her room. The night was productive; she began creating a new brew and made menus for the next week. Yet, I am bored. she thought as she changed out of her jeans and Pig t-shirt into a silk nightie.
As if on automatic, Rosmerta went through her nightly ritual; brush teeth, wash face, clean up any work laying around the room. Even out her nightly ritual, Rosie still felt restless. Claiming under the covers, she pulled a book from the nightstand.
Maybe it's not boredom; maybe it's loneliness