| !HMD |
[20 Nov 2019|12:46pm] |
Any comments, concerns, confusion, questions, spelling corrections, or rotten tomatoes to throw at how I play this darling crazy? This is where you put them. Constructive criticism makes the world go round.
This is also where you put your shiny plot ideas and character interactions. I can pretty much promise that I would love to play around with you.
Comments are screened for privacy.
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[05 Apr 2012|08:12pm] |
[For all that she's fundamentally scattered Ophelia has been, for lack of a better term, pulling herself together these last months. It means a lot of avoiding people who are not Nives and looking for jobs with flexible hours but Ophelia does her best. The alternative is too familiar to contemplate. Goals and pounds and life. Being Ophelia Ziegler and no one else. She sleeps a lot more now.]
Can animals have Post Traumatic Stress?
It seems like an oddsilly question. But do they? And what can you do about it if they do?
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[10 Feb 2012|08:59pm] |
[Immediately after this she scribbles quickly in the journal. Her responses will be sporadic but how could she not?]
( Demons & Lucas Harper )
[Public]
Sometimes I feel so overwhelmed, youknow? It's like Whory London decided I'd been extra good and deserved a treat.
People are fucking amazing.
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[13 Jan 2012|11:04am] |
[On her wandering Ophelia ended up with sushi from a less than reputable sort of person- even she could tell that much but she paid for it anyway. No reason to be rude when you could just give it to someone with a better stomach. Nobody wants sushi in January anyway, dumbass.
Which is how she made friends with an alley cat.]
Oh! I've forgotten- does Haven allow pets? If so help me name our new cat! I voted Giselle and Nina voted Lunch so more options would be goodnice. She has an interesting sort of personality I think.
[A pause before the writing turns crisp and factual to face a likely reality.]
If Haven does not allow cats would anyone like to have a kitty of their own? She's not hairless which I understand is a very polarazingcomfusingcomplicated problem. Likely half Siamese mix with I think some Devon Rex somewhere in the gene pool. Very affection. Good at catching sushi, clawing hands, surviving London winters, and purring. Um.
[Havenites]
[Carefully] Is everyone goodgreat?
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[04 Oct 2011|07:45pm] |
[October 10th. It's a lump in the back of her throat to be prodded at like a bruise before moving on again. (Too many metaphors, kiddo.) Only a bit of time left and she'll be Twenty Two. Em's age until a few months ago. Twenty Two. It's alliterative and pretty in its own way, the way it dropped and made ripples, but-
She wasn't quite used to seventeen yet. Or any of the numbers that came tumbling after. Let alone a number like Twenty Two that sat straight in adult behavior, and expected to have graduated things, and lived all by itself in its own flat unless the job demanded otherwise. Twenty Two expected to know things at the very least, perhaps not as much as it thought it did but some things, and it could make other people feel better just by speaking. It fit in places.
Well she had a place. So there. Haven is home and Haven is fixed and there are pieces of the place to reinsert herself into before the stone forgets. She came back so quickly it was almost reason to write Ms. Adams an apology. Her things all returned to the selves. A garden to smile for. When Gryff said she could help she almost wanted to find a Dom to grab by the too much (not enough there) of his arm and point. Look! I asked and now I can. I wrote words and things changed. I have a job! Look. Another point of Twenty Two. A place and a job. Look look look.]
The garden is alright. No glowing plants yet. Nope. But I got some weeds. The roots are the problem but it's closer to, um, knowing how to be fixed. In progress. There's something goodnice about having dirt under your fingernails when you know it's in progress! The goalness of it all. That's the best of it. Goals. Oh, which makes it sound like I'm about to start my own seminar on success but-
gardensandgoalsandgardens.~
[Havenites]
Also. We should all go out on Monday?
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[18 Aug 2011|10:31pm] |
[It's the calm after panic- now that shes gotten all of her worry out of the way Ophelia can see clearly now how goodgreatwonderful the world is. Gray is a really very good person, and there are people who aren't going away anytime soon, and there are still celebrations and parties to hold on to. Haven and its wards were not the be all and end all- they were just a set back. Nothing more. Something to be fixed.
How perfect a feeling to know that everything was really alright. She falls asleep smiling- the journal and pen she'd intended for a quick cute comment or two forgotten in favour of ballerina dreams.
Which is really all Nina needs. A stretch of her control results in an eye half open and the fingers on one hand (stupidstupidMAGIC) but again- it's enough to write something small. Trivial and sweet to make little girls squeak in the morning.]
There's nothing to be afraid of.
[It's a fucking stupid statement she means to expand on but Ophelia shifts in her sleep and the moment is gone just as quickly as it came. Fine.
Time to rest then. Nina closes their eye and watches for a moment as ballerinas dance side by side with the flames and fighters. Dreams never touching but momentarily together. Her violence is improved by the perfection of their steps. Every strike is graceful. She breathes in the rhythm of her attacks, two-four to six-eight to three-four to four-four and done. She has won.]
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[26 Jul 2011|09:39pm] |
[While she knows that Haven has faced much worse trouble before (her Nina- her personal disaster still poking at half healed wounds) it still makes her nervous to be almost banished from the church. To have Haven taken from her. To be made aware again how easily it could be taken. So many ideas made into paranoia fuel by the claws in her heart kept her awake well past the night. She tries to remind herself how the world they had built for people like her did not end but rather bent and shifted inside itself to keep the people inside the walls safe. This was just another form of safety with food and warmth where solid stone and music should be. Nothing that couldn't be fixed later.
The unsquashable optimism she'd worn through life as armour now keeps her flittering (dancing) by the windows looking for ideas too insubstantial to be found in such a fashion. Waiting.
And writing.]
[Havenites minus Gryff and Em]
Everyone is goodokay? The People are goodnice?
[Havenites]
An effort. Her worry feels over dramatic in nature. Ugly. Everything is goodnicegreatnotenoughwrong? fine. There is no cause for concern. Nobody is lying.
[Open]
What's the worststuppidest word in English? A distraction.
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[20 Jun 2011|02:54pm] |
Oh! Did you know-
Father's Day was yesterday for Canada, France, Greece, and us. I had forgotten. It's the sort of thing you can overlook. Most of the people here lack in fathers. I don't know why. So perhaps it doesn't really matter when the celebration is.
But it was yesterday.
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