(no subject)

[shelley_winters]

Shelley stares at her own front door, key half-raised towards the lock.

She doesn't want to go in.

She's scared to go into her own house. Because he's in there, he can make a space frightning, and she should really just either go in or go somewhere else. Where?

No, no, she has to go in. To her house. Right, right.

She fumbles with the key and turns it in the lock before she can panic again. Step forward, onto the mat, bang the door.

To hard. The windows rattle, a little.

God. She stands still.

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[always-a-liar.livejournal.com]

Reclining upon the sofa with his legs tucked under him, Ishamael read a book. He was irked by how much his plain shirt clashed with the bed sheet he had formed into a skirt. He did not glanced up from the book as he commented quietly to her.

"Good afternoon, my lady."