(no subject)

[katyafeline]

She makes her way home from the bar through the Gloom, slipping through the shadows of the trees in the lane and the spaces between streetlights. She doesn't feel like going through the trouble of undoing her locks on the door one level into the Gloom, so she dips a bit further, letting the top level of light and humanity slip a little further away to where the door isn't locked, and she can come inside without trouble.

There are icy footprints leading from the front door to the kitchen, slowly melting in the heat of the building.

Kind of like how her hair is doing the same as she studies the pantry in bare feet and a dark cloud of unbound hair.

Comments

[27_53]

He doesn't announce his presence verbally - not at first, anyway, because all that can be heard in the quiet kitchen is a soft rustle of feathers - and he stands motionless behind her for a moment, trying to sense what he can before he speaks:



"You could have knocked," he mutters gently. "I would have answered."

Skellig had been sleeping on one of the oversized bean-bag chairs they kept in the living room, but he would have woken up. Especially if he woke up from a dream in which he had just ordered Chinese food, and it was being delivered to their home.