I'll paint the world today
#1
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Paint! Paint was what he would need to make his home seem more like..home. The tree house, of course, was far from completion, but when the time came he could at least be prepared to finish the last few details. Pulling along the small red wagon, Jasper made his way through the last thin line of trees that lead into the city, the wagon making a small thud in the sudden transition from dirt to pavement. Sat nestled into the wagon, as always, was the dirty stuffed rabbit, who looked simply content with the ride it was taking. The blonde de le Poer child seemed perfectly content pulling as well, despite the fact that his mind wandered just as he did. What color would he paint it? Depending on how much paint he could manage to find, perhaps whatever he could scrounge up.


Making yet another transition, this time from street to sidewalk, Jasper turned and began examining the houses that he was passing. His plan, though perhaps futile, was to find the houses that looked like they had the newest paint and investigate those first. Sure, he might come up with empty cans, but it would be more likely that they would have at least some evidence of paint. Pulling the wagon into the yard of a brilliant blue house, he stopped and released the handle, making his way up onto the porch and right into the house. It was dark and stuffy for the most part but the light of the sun shone through the dirty windows in some spots, giving him a soft glow of light as he made his way down the old hall.

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#2
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Poe was not someone often (or ever) described as articulate. But she had a wide, heavy appreciation of words and believed they held power. Words from the day before, for example, still lingered and clung to the inner walls of her skull, slipping down to brush her spine every now and then and set off shivers that she could (or did) not want to recognize. Her relationship with her mother rarely came easily, but it had always been profound and had a way of shaking up mystery in the girl’s mind. But maybe that was just the nature off Misery, mother or not, she considered even as she tried to push those creeping thoughts back again. She let the long string of pearls slide between her fingers and back into the box she had found them in and moved on.


It was a sweet old house, well-built by someone who had expected to pass it down for generations, she imagined. An old lady with her antiques, family jewellery and plastic on the couch cushions. Houses like this often had rooms devoted almost entirely to piles of junk (the more unusual ones even had animal themes to them sometimes) that proved very valuable to her collections. She had moved into her “downtown loft apartment” only two months ago, but already it was bursting at the seams, overflowing into the store below with piles of clothing and costume, strange and shiny knickknacks, useful tools and a prized cupboard of wine bottles. Two years old, and there were some parallels between this bantam werewolf and the dead women who might have lived in this house—they both had distinct fetishes for useless things. She was surveying the dusty paintings and photos that remained mounted on the walls when she heard someone enter from the other end of the house. Steps of the unfamiliar began down the hallway in her direction, and she considered the most appropriate way of approaching whoever it was. It was difficult to resist the inadvertently perfect element of surprise she could take, but that did run the risk of simply scaring off possible company. Living without the confines of a pack had become heavily preferable to her after most of a life spent as such, but the feral instinct in her kept her grasping for any companionship she came across these days.


Idly plucking a dusty sunhat up from off of a table, the D’Angelo girl bypassed her better manners’ judgement, and moved towards the hallway as it was dropped on her head, squishing the stubby ponytail behind her skull. “Oogidy-boogidy!” she whispered loudly, then popped her head through the doorway to stare round-eyed down the hall at the second intruder.
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