[ kate can be encountered somewhere outdoors! she's in her regular clothes with her non-face no longer hidden. she tries not to bring attention to it, but along one of her shins is a word in white lettering: FALSE. ]
... It seems we've all been assigned some kind of living arrangements. I hope yours isn't too disagreeable.
Even outside of my ooc screaming, Camille finds herself endeared by the get up. Not her taste, but the vivid red divorces it from the porcelain doll laces and nightgowns her mother preferred her daughters in.
For her own part, Camille's left pant leg is ablaze with SCORNED CHILD. A softball dig compared to her other graphic details. Maybe this curse was a staunch supporter of age-based censorship.]
The clown theater? It's a fun time. I don't know any of my roommates well, but that takes time.
And a couple ghosts. [Though yeah, a bath sounds goddamn divine. As does a bed. Her poor back.] Call Laudna if they give you trouble. Apparently she deals with that stuff back home.
Well, I was sitting in a dining chair and something yanked it ninety degrees to the right with me in it, but hey. Could be anything. [She smiles.] I'm not the expert on the supernatural. My home was considerably more dull than most folks around here.
[Her eyes flick unbidden to the white lines on inky black skin. Is it skin? She's sure it's rude to ask, so she won't.
Yet she can't help herself on the other front.]
Hey, so. You know you've got a little something there. [Delicately pointing.]
Whatever happened to sneaking into bedrooms and reading other people's diaries?
[Just salt in the wounds they thought they'd healed. Camille still can't say she understands what Kate is, but she looks young. Very young. Not the type Camille's keen to poison with her past.]
We could wait it out somewhere private? They usually fade after a time.
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Week 0, Monday
... It seems we've all been assigned some kind of living arrangements. I hope yours isn't too disagreeable.
no subject
Even outside of my ooc screaming, Camille finds herself endeared by the get up. Not her taste, but the vivid red divorces it from the porcelain doll laces and nightgowns her mother preferred her daughters in.
For her own part, Camille's left pant leg is ablaze with SCORNED CHILD. A softball dig compared to her other graphic details. Maybe this curse was a staunch supporter of age-based censorship.]
The clown theater? It's a fun time. I don't know any of my roommates well, but that takes time.
How about yourself? You been good, Kate?
[How badly has she been smoking lately?]
no subject
I think I was fortunate to end up at the abandoned house... There are beds and a bath.
[ maybe even a beyond. we'll see. ]
no subject
no subject
... Do you really think there are ghosts?
no subject
[Her eyes flick unbidden to the white lines on inky black skin. Is it skin? She's sure it's rude to ask, so she won't.
Yet she can't help herself on the other front.]
Hey, so. You know you've got a little something there. [Delicately pointing.]
no subject
Yes.
It seems most of us have been afflicted with words we'd rather not see.
no subject
[Just salt in the wounds they thought they'd healed. Camille still can't say she understands what Kate is, but she looks young. Very young. Not the type Camille's keen to poison with her past.]
We could wait it out somewhere private? They usually fade after a time.
no subject
The last thing we need is any reason to distrust one another, at a time like this.