Cold this wind, cold this rain,/Cold these outstretched hands

[glass-beddau.livejournal.com]

[Midday on Sunday, August 30 (day 91)]
[Miskatonic Café]

The rain's held steady, grey sky and wet earth and the air between running for the horizon. I've my own jacket now, but I borrow Iago's regardless; it's morning when I leave, and he'll not be going out afore I'm back. And if he's going to be abed--and I'll not begrudge him that--I can at least have the smell of him and his jacket 'round me.

Headed up through the park to the Abbey to catch service, and my jeans were soaked from midcalf down from the slow grasp of wet grass. Stayed for a little afterwards to pass time and words with Oya. Nothing of detail or import--I've no mind for where to begin on those--more a chance to greet her again. Interesting times, indeed. Head out into the rain again, and the wind's catching loose strands of hair across my face and the rain's soaking them down and I catch myself laughing a little trekking through the park to Main Street, light and passing delight. Love this weather, the wet bite of wind and the stroking patter of the rain and the light as grey as rock-dove feathers.

See the Miskatonic up ahead as I come out of the park, and wander across the slick cobbles of Main, long slow lope down the center of it and no worry for traffic, not on a Sunday midday of this weather. Music sounds low and clear as I open the door, get myself a coffee and take a seat in the window to watch the street--easy enough to do, the weather's kept the usual crowd rather down and I've my pick of tables. Drape Iago's jacket 'cross the back of an empty chair and take my hair down, start untangling it as best I can. Coffee here, I think, and maybe a sandwich, and then I'll bring something back for Iago, get home, sink into a hot bath... Going to be a fine day.

[Open first to Lucien, later to others]

Cold this wind, cold this rain,/Cold these outstretched hands

[glass-beddau.livejournal.com]

[Midday on Sunday, August 30 (day 91)]
[Miskatonic Café]

The rain's held steady, grey sky and wet earth and the air between running for the horizon. I've my own jacket now, but I borrow Iago's regardless; it's morning when I leave, and he'll not be going out afore I'm back. And if he's going to be abed--and I'll not begrudge him that--I can at least have the smell of him and his jacket 'round me.

Headed up through the park to the Abbey to catch service, and my jeans were soaked from midcalf down from the slow grasp of wet grass. Stayed for a little afterwards to pass time and words with Oya. Nothing of detail or import--I've no mind for where to begin on those--more a chance to greet her again. Interesting times, indeed. Head out into the rain again, and the wind's catching loose strands of hair across my face and the rain's soaking them down and I catch myself laughing a little trekking through the park to Main Street, light and passing delight. Love this weather, the wet bite of wind and the stroking patter of the rain and the light as grey as rock-dove feathers.

See the Miskatonic up ahead as I come out of the park, and wander across the slick cobbles of Main, long slow lope down the center of it and no worry for traffic, not on a Sunday midday of this weather. Music sounds low and clear as I open the door, get myself a coffee and take a seat in the window to watch the street--easy enough to do, the weather's kept the usual crowd rather down and I've my pick of tables. Drape Iago's jacket 'cross the back of an empty chair and take my hair down, start untangling it as best I can. Coffee here, I think, and maybe a sandwich, and then I'll bring something back for Iago, get home, sink into a hot bath... Going to be a fine day.

[Open first to Lucien, later to others]

(no subject)

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

[continues from here]

Tez, out hunting Lilith, met Iblis. They had an interestingly celestial sexual experience together following a bit of near-bestiality (!), and then played a fun little game involving Danika and some near-rape roleplay. Now they are having a cosy domestic chat...

*

"If I have, they've never come looking for me. My ixiptlas did, of course, on many occasions, but....Have you carried a child, in any of your forms?"

"It is curious, is it not, how some pantheons seem to have rather more success than others in producing offspring," I observe. "The Greeks, for instance, bred like rabbits, and hardly any of their half-breeds are worth anything." I smile at him, and then turn to his question. "I gave birth to a city, once," I say. "And my seed has brought forth children from time to time. But I have not been pregnant in the way a woman would," I say. "Perhaps I should; one has greater control over the foetus if one is the mother. But I have not liked to be in a human body for so long. It is wearying." I smile. "It is easier to impregnate."

[open to Tez]

(no subject)

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

[continues from here]

Tez, out hunting Lilith, met Iblis. They had an interestingly celestial sexual experience together following a bit of near-bestiality (!), and then played a fun little game involving Danika and some near-rape roleplay. Now they are having a cosy domestic chat...

*

"If I have, they've never come looking for me. My ixiptlas did, of course, on many occasions, but....Have you carried a child, in any of your forms?"

"It is curious, is it not, how some pantheons seem to have rather more success than others in producing offspring," I observe. "The Greeks, for instance, bred like rabbits, and hardly any of their half-breeds are worth anything." I smile at him, and then turn to his question. "I gave birth to a city, once," I say. "And my seed has brought forth children from time to time. But I have not been pregnant in the way a woman would," I say. "Perhaps I should; one has greater control over the foetus if one is the mother. But I have not liked to be in a human body for so long. It is wearying." I smile. "It is easier to impregnate."

[open to Tez]