09-19-2008, 05:00 PM
[html]
Table by Tammi!
[/html]
http://i25.tinypic.com/jizx5d.png); background-position:top; background-repeat: repeat-y; width: 500px;">
So very late. D:
Bag by bag, Poe had set up her own elaborate little corner of Esper Hollow to her very likings. She hadn't a hint of carpentry skills to build anything to resemble a traditional house, but she did have a creative streak and a good sense of where just everything of her interest could be found in the city that had been home for several months. So she made herself a colourful canopy between the trees, protected by a bright blue tarp overhead and veiled by a kaleidoscope of curtains. Gauzy, patterned or laced, they all radiated and rippled animatedly when she lit her paper lanterns while sewing new clothes from within the sling of her hammock most nights. Even in the quiet chaos that she had walked into here, Poe had settled in quite naturally in between fishing, urban gathering and aiding Ahren as best as she could (which in all practicality was little in comparison to the other attendees, but that evidently made no impact on her prior).
With most of her 'vital' needs met from the city, Poe's last few trips there had been delightfully frivolous and often brought back bags of seemingly random items. Today's contents had been poured out onto the firm dirt floor of her wannabe circus tent, and Poe herself sat next to them, separating clothes from jewelry, from the rest. Beneath the ripped remains of a black lace shawl was a tarnished silver box with a vine and flower design etched into its skin. Golden-green eyes lingered on it while a dark thumb wiped away a bit of grimy dust, polishing her spotty reflection. Drawing the box into the lap of her theatrical purple pinstriped dress, Poe pushed up a small latch and pushed the lid back on its hinges. Immediately a tinny tune sang out, a forgotten ballet for the plastic ballerina that turned stiffly on a stand in the center of the music box. All around the figurine were lipstick, eye shadow and blush cases, the palettes inside broken and dull, but no less interesting to their new owner. With wide, pleased eyes, the child-sized werewolf selected a pale pink blush and rubbed the pad of her forefinger in it, crumbling the brittled make-up to bring it to her mottled cheek bones.
Bag by bag, Poe had set up her own elaborate little corner of Esper Hollow to her very likings. She hadn't a hint of carpentry skills to build anything to resemble a traditional house, but she did have a creative streak and a good sense of where just everything of her interest could be found in the city that had been home for several months. So she made herself a colourful canopy between the trees, protected by a bright blue tarp overhead and veiled by a kaleidoscope of curtains. Gauzy, patterned or laced, they all radiated and rippled animatedly when she lit her paper lanterns while sewing new clothes from within the sling of her hammock most nights. Even in the quiet chaos that she had walked into here, Poe had settled in quite naturally in between fishing, urban gathering and aiding Ahren as best as she could (which in all practicality was little in comparison to the other attendees, but that evidently made no impact on her prior).
With most of her 'vital' needs met from the city, Poe's last few trips there had been delightfully frivolous and often brought back bags of seemingly random items. Today's contents had been poured out onto the firm dirt floor of her wannabe circus tent, and Poe herself sat next to them, separating clothes from jewelry, from the rest. Beneath the ripped remains of a black lace shawl was a tarnished silver box with a vine and flower design etched into its skin. Golden-green eyes lingered on it while a dark thumb wiped away a bit of grimy dust, polishing her spotty reflection. Drawing the box into the lap of her theatrical purple pinstriped dress, Poe pushed up a small latch and pushed the lid back on its hinges. Immediately a tinny tune sang out, a forgotten ballet for the plastic ballerina that turned stiffly on a stand in the center of the music box. All around the figurine were lipstick, eye shadow and blush cases, the palettes inside broken and dull, but no less interesting to their new owner. With wide, pleased eyes, the child-sized werewolf selected a pale pink blush and rubbed the pad of her forefinger in it, crumbling the brittled make-up to bring it to her mottled cheek bones.
[/html]