Winter Tsukuyomi ❄ Rikka Hishikawa (AU) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
peacefulwinter) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
savetheearth2013-06-21 07:30 am
peacefulwinter) wrote in savetheearth2013-06-21 07:30 am
002 ♦ Action
who: Winter and OPEN
what: Almost dying is a real drag, so Winter's in the library trying to take her mind off it. Hilarity (and possibly other things) ensues.
where: The biggest library she can get into; ergo, the big public library.
when: June 18th
It's been a few days since the adventure in the mine. While she wasn't too badly hurt physically - most of her cuts have been reduced to fading scars, and her only bruises are covered by the simple powder blue sundress she's wearing - the emotional scars are still fairly raw. Privately, she'll admit she was scared out of her mind back there, and she spent the last day or two locked up at home. Her mother had tended to the worst of her injuries when she got home, thankfully accepting the excuse of tripping on rocks when she was reading in the park.
But now that she doesn't look like a walking disaster (as far as she's concerned), Winter's gone to one of her favorite places in town: the library. After some time to grab a few books she hadn't read before, she started toward an open armchair to curl up in... and something caught her attention. A book: the Hyakunin Isshu, handily translated on the spine as the Hundred Poems, and on inspection apparently written in both Japanese and English. She didn't know why, but she liked poems, so she picked it up and added it to her stack, heading to sit down.
Over the course of the next several hours, Winter can be found sitting pretty much in the same place, alternating between novels, nonfiction, and that book of poems. Sitting next to her on the arm of the chair is that plushie from the mine. That book of poems, by the way, is possibly the most interesting: if you're relatively close by, you can hear her reciting from the it softly, and at some point you may hear her breath hitch, as she seems to space out and be somewhere far away for a long moment.
what: Almost dying is a real drag, so Winter's in the library trying to take her mind off it. Hilarity (and possibly other things) ensues.
where: The biggest library she can get into; ergo, the big public library.
when: June 18th
It's been a few days since the adventure in the mine. While she wasn't too badly hurt physically - most of her cuts have been reduced to fading scars, and her only bruises are covered by the simple powder blue sundress she's wearing - the emotional scars are still fairly raw. Privately, she'll admit she was scared out of her mind back there, and she spent the last day or two locked up at home. Her mother had tended to the worst of her injuries when she got home, thankfully accepting the excuse of tripping on rocks when she was reading in the park.
But now that she doesn't look like a walking disaster (as far as she's concerned), Winter's gone to one of her favorite places in town: the library. After some time to grab a few books she hadn't read before, she started toward an open armchair to curl up in... and something caught her attention. A book: the Hyakunin Isshu, handily translated on the spine as the Hundred Poems, and on inspection apparently written in both Japanese and English. She didn't know why, but she liked poems, so she picked it up and added it to her stack, heading to sit down.
Over the course of the next several hours, Winter can be found sitting pretty much in the same place, alternating between novels, nonfiction, and that book of poems. Sitting next to her on the arm of the chair is that plushie from the mine. That book of poems, by the way, is possibly the most interesting: if you're relatively close by, you can hear her reciting from the it softly, and at some point you may hear her breath hitch, as she seems to space out and be somewhere far away for a long moment.
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