[ 🚦 ]
[ He nods, serious yet somber. ]
ㅤㅤYup. To the garden we go, ladies, that's where all of that leads to. I can't imagine successfully using deer traps in a goddamn theatre, so...
[ He doesn't bother saying ‘let's go’, just immediately starts heading to the staircase. ]
( 🚦 )
[ a long sigh, turning to the staircase. nothing good comes out of this. maybe there's still hope. maybe there won't be a body discovery today. not in the garden.
borderline sprinting up the stairs, in spite of the horrible headache she's got. ]
( 🚦 ◜✧ )
( she frowns, before
nodding… garden it is.
it’s the only logical
reason regarding the
missing evidence.
so, she heads on up;
locating the garden.
and with the group, she
heads in…. )
( 🚦 )
[ hesitant to let herself in, but opening the door anyway. careful to not close the door too hard behind her, or stray too far from it. lingering between the door and her bed. ]
how're you holding up?
( 🚦 )
[ laid on her stomach in the theater room.. glass from the bar next to her, surrounded by miscellaneous set pieces, props, tools & paint supplies. cleaning up old and unused theater items, singing to herself. a good day 🎵 . ]
( 🚦 )
i don't know. big fan of theatrics, but usually it's never this.. dramatic.
[ long stare at the other, shifting weight to one foot. brushing suit jacket down.. ]
normally, i dont have a reaction like that. i tend to hold my liquor quite well.
She is a poem of fallen stars, her gilded locks a dream of madness.
Her hair crown trails the Milky Way, her eyes ablaze with poetry.
*Artworks from member of fan page 💌 @观翙