: hard at work :
Once there was a couch in the rec room. It was still there, honest, but it was currently covered in every way imaginable by (probably) hundreds of articles of clothing, varying in color, size and fabric. Realizing early on that the clothes box was not simply going to produce perfectly fitted costumes for The Tempest, Angela had avoided the confrontation that was sure to occur. But the days kept passing, and there was only so much time a person could spend sketching a costume before she actually had to make it. So Angela had attacked, figuring that if she kept pulling clothes from the box as quickly as possible, whatever magic working on the container would break down and start giving her things that sort-of matched what she was looking for.
Her plan had worked, mostly. She easily had thirty pounds worth of clothes strewn about her, and she would probably need more, but as she picked through them, actually considering each piece, the situation wasn't nearly as hopeless as Angela had thought it would be. Piles of brightly colored clothes on her left, two smaller piles on her left, a pencil behind her ear and her sketchbook before her, Angela worked through the collection, making notes and trying to figure out who on the island had sewing needles and thread. Because someone had to. The jukebox was gracious enough to not play her father's music, but something she could hum along to as she worked.
[ Because she hasn't been out in forever. Come talk to Ange! ]
Her plan had worked, mostly. She easily had thirty pounds worth of clothes strewn about her, and she would probably need more, but as she picked through them, actually considering each piece, the situation wasn't nearly as hopeless as Angela had thought it would be. Piles of brightly colored clothes on her left, two smaller piles on her left, a pencil behind her ear and her sketchbook before her, Angela worked through the collection, making notes and trying to figure out who on the island had sewing needles and thread. Because someone had to. The jukebox was gracious enough to not play her father's music, but something she could hum along to as she worked.
[ Because she hasn't been out in forever. Come talk to Ange! ]