Unrehearsed Reverb (Rowan)
Nov 18, 2013 0:37:50 GMT -5
Post by Lucy Serrano-Blaise on Nov 18, 2013 0:37:50 GMT -5
In the latest months, Lucy had once again grown accustomed to sleeping on her own. She was alone, but she wasn't lonely. She also wasn't really sleeping, though she refused to designate why her sleeping patterns had once again gone awry. It might have had something to do with sleeping almost a whole day after she got ridiculously drunk with her closest friends at the school dance. Rowan had even stayed that night. Fortunately for Lucy - and she would say it was because she was Australian - she had a very vivid recollection of the walk back to her room.
It involved busting through the door into the common room and shouting harsh profanity (akin to but not limited to the likes of; f*ck off you little homo, my Row-Row doesn't need your sh*t) in the direction of Alex's room until Rowan had the good sense - and coordination - to pick her up and carry her into her own room.
Her free time was greatly taken up by the presence of her dear friend Rowan. It and her gaming addiction kept her mind perfectly clear of thoughts of a little blue haired shitfaced liar who had the ability to make her skin crawl with pure, unadulterated hatred.
Lucy was zen. As zen as an Australian with anger issues could get.
That night, she received a peculiar yet not unexpected text from Rowan. He was - as he did sometimes - asking about where Alex was. Lucy replied that she was pretty sure he went out about an hour ago and hadn't yet returned. And in her true fashion, she went out and unlocked the door, because the news her message sent meant Rowan would likely turn up any minute. Returning to the comfort of her own bed, Lucy sat herself down with a pencil and an empty page, perusing the clear surface for a moment or two before touching tip to the immaculate surface.
It involved busting through the door into the common room and shouting harsh profanity (akin to but not limited to the likes of; f*ck off you little homo, my Row-Row doesn't need your sh*t) in the direction of Alex's room until Rowan had the good sense - and coordination - to pick her up and carry her into her own room.
Her free time was greatly taken up by the presence of her dear friend Rowan. It and her gaming addiction kept her mind perfectly clear of thoughts of a little blue haired shitfaced liar who had the ability to make her skin crawl with pure, unadulterated hatred.
Lucy was zen. As zen as an Australian with anger issues could get.
That night, she received a peculiar yet not unexpected text from Rowan. He was - as he did sometimes - asking about where Alex was. Lucy replied that she was pretty sure he went out about an hour ago and hadn't yet returned. And in her true fashion, she went out and unlocked the door, because the news her message sent meant Rowan would likely turn up any minute. Returning to the comfort of her own bed, Lucy sat herself down with a pencil and an empty page, perusing the clear surface for a moment or two before touching tip to the immaculate surface.