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Charlene Roberta McGee
02 December 2012 @ 10:38 am
Audio;  
[Charlie sounds more amused than annoyed. In fact, she doesn't sound annoyed at all, even if her words would indicate otherwise.]


Rapunzel, I love you dearly but I think you missed something when you kicked me out of the shop today. I work every Sunday. It's part of my routine. Sunday mornings, I'm in the shop. Regardless of what the day is.

[A long-suffering sigh, a faint huff of amusement.] Fine, fine. I'll stay out of the shop today since you insisted. Rude.

[See, not that many would know this, but it's Charlie's birthday and Rapunzel has decreed Charlie stay out. So, she'll be wandering the City. Find her almost anywhere. Even at home later in the day where she will be holed up in her room, reading or writing in an almost-full journal.]
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Loki
02 December 2012 @ 02:38 pm
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[He's sitting on a cement retaining wall, legs dangling over the edge, a makeshift card table done out of milk crates and a box on the sidewalk below. The phone is propped up on something beside him, filming as Serrure flips through the deck of cards he was just conning people with.]

I don't know why people become so angry over losing. Spoiler alert- it is a trait you mortals share with gods and demons alike.

Or perhaps it is not the losing I do not understand, but the insistence upon returning to lose again after being so frustrated the first time.
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(carolena) lady of sorrows
02 December 2012 @ 04:32 pm
043 x 340 // video  
[She was quiet last month, wasn't she. Well, she's decided to show her face today. She's perched on a chair with a very fluffy puppy in her lap. Peanut nibbles at her fingers as she wiggles them absentmindedly in front of his nose. She's staring at something, which she does eventually pick up the camera in order to share.

She turns the view onto a a large and haphazard stack of canvases that are dominating her one-room flat. There are a few pieces fully in view, expressive of disparate moods. 1, 2, 3, 4.

The piece sitting on the easel itself is a portrait of a man that only two people in this city would recognize, besides her. She had told one of them, once, that she preferred it that way. To keep the ghost buried. But she seems to have changed her mind about that, or maybe she's just resigned herself to something because in the corner where a signature might have otherwise gone are the words 'never gone.' (Before Carla says anything, Peanut gives a few trilling little sounds, rolling out of her lap and thumping to the floor. She sighs and picks him back up.)]

So... what do I do with these now?

[It was a flaw in her plan, really. She likes the sense of productivity when she's painting, but... she can't say she likes looking over her work. She'd never painted anything of her own, before the City. Counterfeiters didn't make profit on their creative efforts. Now she can see her own thoughts in colors and angles.]

Maybe a bonfire...
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