eldorne_girl (
eldorne_girl) wrote2007-06-07 03:36 pm
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[The time has come, the Walrus said, to speak of many things and Delia doesn't want to speak or move or even think, so she's drinking. By herself, of course, but drinking anyway.
Kills things. Twitchiness and restlessness, but the door downstairs won't go away.]
Kills things. Twitchiness and restlessness, but the door downstairs won't go away.]
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I don't know. Maybe.
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*Thom draws his fingers through her hair and, leaning up a bit, kisses her: softly*
-- all of them.
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All, Thom?
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Unless you'd rather not.
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