a. z. fell
She/Her
30
December 21st
Fortree, Hoenn
Bisexual
Surviving
Civillian
i'm just a demon who goes along with hell as far as she can.
kettering
POSTED ON Nov 17, 2023 17:28:57 GMT
[attr="class","samcam"] "Yeah, around. Yeah, of course you do. It’s not you, it’s-- well, you’ll see.” She nods to Kanaya who activates the warp pad and skeets off through timespace with Freya in tow. They emerge in a dark space. Its cold, and smells like concrete, dust, and faintly of motor oil. Square beams of light shoot in from a paneled garage door across the way. The ceiling is high and arched, bare bones joists and nails; there are shelves cluttered with mechanical components, paint, tools, and just-- just a bunch of shit, really. A motorcycle in a stage of disrepair rests in one corner; the far wall is dedicated completely to what look like robot organs and limbs. “C’mon in,” she says, opening the door from the garage into the house proper, helping Freya up the single step, “mi casa es su casa and all that shit.” Kanaya strides in ahead of them and disappears around a corner. It’s not a bad house, all things considered; slummy for Ever Grande would fit right in in middle class Slateport. It’s on the vestiges of a neighborhood, thinning out amongst the wild Hoennian coastline. The garage opens into a small kitchen with mismatched cabinets; the floors are new, the countertops new, but half the doors are wood and half the doors are sleek stainless. The microwave doesn't match the fridge. A space on the other side of the half-finished bar peninsula is open for a dining table or foosball table or whatever ends up going there, eventually. Remnants of a wall and a partially framed in support beam lead into a large space with new, untrimmed windows looking out into the forest. A shiny Ninetails is curled up in the corner, snoozing. A mishmash of birdfeeders and houses pepper the trees outside, bright spots of color among all that Hoenn green. A Venusaur lumbers about, nosing through the brush. “Did the central air first but it still needs rewiring and some quality of life upgrades,” she says, guiding Freya around a pile of tools and an orange toolbelt laying haphazardly on the floor. “Gotta do new floors throughout and I want jacuzzi tubs and-- yeah. I dunno. I don’t want it to be… too perfect.” Something itches at the back of her mind, the memory of a doll trapped in her dollhouse and the smell of warm bread, and she makes a mental note to buzz that bit out better when next she attends to her memories. Kanaya steps out of the first of three bedrooms on the upper floor and gestures them over. There’s new floors and dark blue curtains on the two small windows. Dark wooden shelving has been hung up but is as of yet bare. There’s a queen sized bed in Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle sheets and matching pillowcases set up for Freya against the wall, in the middle of the room. A Breloom is fluffing the pillows. Kanaya leads Freya to the bed, her face an amalgam of stern apology for this being the only spare bedset she’d had access to. “Bathroom’s right across the way. Bryda, can we get a table or something in here? Thanks.” She rustles through Freya’s med bag. “How you doin’, champ? Feelin’ okay? Or at least not atrocious?” [newclass=.samcam] [/newclass][newclass=.samcam b] color: #d49736; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: .5px; [/newclass][newclass=.samcam i] color: #d49736; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: .5px; [/newclass][newclass=.samcam u] text-decoration: none;border-bottom: dashed 1px #d49736; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: .5px; [/newclass][newclass=.samcam a] text-transform:uppercase!important;font:800 15px Poppins!important; [/newclass]
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