#mini rp

Even when he received Jains reply, it wasn't enough. Despite the distance, Julian could feel the vehemence in the text.

Yen took the cupcake with a very, very slight smile. "Alright. I can do one to three. Though I think you're getting an unfair advantage with me..." they undid a part of the foil, "...if this is lemon. Which it smells like it is."

"..."

Found love? Probably not the way you mean it. Alan and I married, but I never felt anything other than deep friendship for him, and he knew that. We were very happy together, and I did love him in that regard. But as for romance...I'm afraid that, having never held it as a high priority, I wasn't inclined to look for it again after Thomas.

My children...they were the best things that ever happened to me.

I adopted them. There was an orphanage in Manhattan that I'd donated rather a lot of money to, and the directress invited me to visit in person. May 18th, 1912- I still remember the date.

Beatrice was six and Alistair was four. They were siblings; their father gave them up after their mother died. He was busy, he apparently said, and couldn't have two brats underfoot while he was trying to work. What the work was, I never did find out. I'm not sure the directress knew.

(He did say Bea was named after "some Italian writer's wife;" I presume he meant Dante's beloved. I won't lie- the name did give me pause. But plenty of girls and women have it, after all.)

Their parents weren't hurting them anymore, if anything had ever been amiss. They knew and played with other children, and studied in the orphanage's little schoolroom. It was a better place than many such, hence my patronage. They weren't isolated by any means.

But Alistair was clinging to her hand, and she had angled her body to shift him behind her, and I couldn't help being reminded of other, long-ago children, equally devoted, for whom help never came.

I couldn't save them. I could save these two- not separate them, but make sure they were loved. So I did. Alan wasn't sure at first, but he came around almost as soon as he met them.

They were miracles. Both so clever and so full of life. Bea decided to be a writer, like me, but ended up shifting into journalism. Alistair never had any grand ambitions- he was content to set up housekeeping with, of all people, Eunice's son Samuel. They lived outside of Boston and grew prize-winning roses.

Obviously they've both passed on now, but that only means we get to be together. And Bea's children, and her children's children, are still out there changing the world in their own small ways.

Thomas, when I see him, asks after them every time.

Here is how it's gonna work!

Ok I'm gonna try something a little different! One story, One skelly, but all can play!

This is Comment to play, aka chat room style rp in the comments section. One of the skelly's (Red for this experiment) is gonna 'add y'all to a chat room' in the master post and then you message them (comment) to play the story out. And if any events happen I'll reblog with a story section.

It takes him a long minute to calm down... he just cuddles you for a while. He then takes a deep breath, and kisses your cheek. "Um.... Sorry about that love." He mumbles...

Hardman sighs, rubbing his face; he's so bad at this. ...A tummy rub sounds nice right about now.

Fuse walked along the beach, the water hitting his sandy feet. This wasn't just any beach. It was Splash's beach. And he was looking for her.

"Splash! Splash! Splash where are you?!"