Either way, sounds like a good plan to get himself cursed. It's gotta be the animal legs. He is into that shit. [ She says it with a laugh, looks up at the sky where all the stars hang in the wrong places.
Frankly, it's been quite a while since Julie was able to feel safe or unafraid. She can barely remember anymore, but it would have been before she heard the first coughs, before the dogs and cats started laying down to die. After that, there was never a moment free from danger of some kind; maybe she had come close to feeling some sense of security in Nott, but it was really more the comfort of stability. Stability that could be upended at any moment, but stability nonetheless. It was not until she fell asleep in Cadens for the first time, in the apartment that Sam arranged for them, that she understood how much it had all really been, because she'd slept for twelve hours without waking once.
She was not used to where she was, she was not entirely comfortable being there, but that night, some part of her felt safe, and still does.
(It will not last long, not even two weeks. Abraxas is not that kind.) ]
Every great artist gets accused of corruptin' the youth. [ Her legs drawn up, Julie curls her toes over the edge of the ledge she sits on, tries to remember the lyrics of all the songs that caused an uproar when she was growing up. ] If the fuckable god's the worst they get, those bumpkin farmers don't know how easy they have it.
no subject
Frankly, it's been quite a while since Julie was able to feel safe or unafraid. She can barely remember anymore, but it would have been before she heard the first coughs, before the dogs and cats started laying down to die. After that, there was never a moment free from danger of some kind; maybe she had come close to feeling some sense of security in Nott, but it was really more the comfort of stability. Stability that could be upended at any moment, but stability nonetheless. It was not until she fell asleep in Cadens for the first time, in the apartment that Sam arranged for them, that she understood how much it had all really been, because she'd slept for twelve hours without waking once.
She was not used to where she was, she was not entirely comfortable being there, but that night, some part of her felt safe, and still does.
(It will not last long, not even two weeks. Abraxas is not that kind.) ]
Every great artist gets accused of corruptin' the youth. [ Her legs drawn up, Julie curls her toes over the edge of the ledge she sits on, tries to remember the lyrics of all the songs that caused an uproar when she was growing up. ] If the fuckable god's the worst they get, those bumpkin farmers don't know how easy they have it.