[and I missed most of this week. You can throw this tag in the trash nu time has moved so fast and i was so horizontal]
Sure! This is really homey, actually. I like your pool!
[And all of the bullets? Why do you have ALL of the bullets?
But Rosamund will gravitate to the tales of Mother Goose of course. And, as she files through the pages, gets a little misty-eyed. She takes a breath to steady herself, smiling through the steady, longing ache.]
...You were all very good to each other, I see. [Her hand rests a moment on the extended tale of the frog prince. Easy, girl. But there's another tale in here that catches her eye.]
[ it's okay you came back as i died to trial and these matters will continue
sometimes you buy so many bullets so other people can't purchase them. it's sound logic (murder happens regardless). he'll let her observe the book though, just dusting some of their stuff off to give her a moment to collect herself. ]
Ah. Well. He died early. [ said a little mechanically ] It was just me and Ylfa for a while, so we wrote a lot of stories. I think they meant a lot to her.
[this is sound logic that will prevent all murders yes, please teach her your ways.]
...He did say as much to me, yes. Or implied it, anyway. [not knowing gerard or ylfa well.] I'm sorry. Even if it was a while ago and he's here now, it's still hard to think about. I still find things hard, sometimes.
[Maybe she's bordering on patronizing, but it's hard not to find herself feeling especially sentimental in here. She turns another page, running a hand down Ylfa's scrawling penmanship.]
They would mean a lot. I mean, we're kinda tied to them? But I hope some of the things you wrote did come true. [She smiles him.] They seem really nice.
...What would you write about today, do you think? If it wasn't just getting us out of this stupid game?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Sure! This is really homey, actually. I like your pool!
[And all of the bullets? Why do you have ALL of the bullets?
But Rosamund will gravitate to the tales of Mother Goose of course. And, as she files through the pages, gets a little misty-eyed. She takes a breath to steady herself, smiling through the steady, longing ache.]
...You were all very good to each other, I see. [Her hand rests a moment on the extended tale of the frog prince. Easy, girl. But there's another tale in here that catches her eye.]
You wanted to write a story for Matsuoka?
no subject
sometimes you buy so many bullets so other people can't purchase them. it's sound logic (murder happens regardless). he'll let her observe the book though, just dusting some of their stuff off to give her a moment to collect herself. ]
Ah. Well. He died early. [ said a little mechanically ] It was just me and Ylfa for a while, so we wrote a lot of stories. I think they meant a lot to her.
[ so they also meant a lot to him, obviously. ]
no subject
...He did say as much to me, yes. Or implied it, anyway. [not knowing gerard or ylfa well.] I'm sorry. Even if it was a while ago and he's here now, it's still hard to think about. I still find things hard, sometimes.
[Maybe she's bordering on patronizing, but it's hard not to find herself feeling especially sentimental in here. She turns another page, running a hand down Ylfa's scrawling penmanship.]
They would mean a lot. I mean, we're kinda tied to them? But I hope some of the things you wrote did come true. [She smiles him.] They seem really nice.
...What would you write about today, do you think? If it wasn't just getting us out of this stupid game?