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blood_wingedSo, we have mice. So far, we've caught (and when I say caught I mean killed, this isn't my choice) two of the little buggers, and we know there's at least one more. This last one, if it is the last one, is a sneaky little bastard. It's eaten the bait off the trap three times so far, without setting the trap off at all. But we'll get it. Eventually. I'm not about to let this turn into Mouse Hunt.
In a little over two hours, I have a job interview. I've never had one before. Then I need to get an early night because I have a goddamn JSA meeting at 9.40 in the morning. My mind is already rebelling against the idea of 9 - 5 and I don't even work yet. I am just going to fail at life, forever. Well, I'm in no hurry to move out and I think so long as I pay my way mother will be in no hurry to kick me out, and god knows with how the bills are going by the time I want to move out I won't be able to because if I do my parents won't be able to afford the house.
I think I'll just keep subtly nudging![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nasty_show into getting a flat with me =P
I've started to play Echo Bazaar again, and now I can't get the idea of what an EB!Arthur would be like out of my head. I've had a few phrases and mental images floating around in my head for a while now so I'm going to see how well I can put them down.
--
Arthur hadn't been the same since London fell. At first it had been hard to see, but then the deterioration had occurred so quickly that even if there had been something they could have done to stop it, there would have been no time. He had been quiet, he said he was fine. Then he began to forget people's names. He began to dress strangely and talk in short, aggravated tones to voices that no one else could hear. Voices that he always addressed as 'Master'. He would talk about things that no one else understood, and then appear distressed at the blank, uncomprehending looks that he would receive in response to his ramblings. Within days, it seemed, dark circles appeared under his eyes and when he smiled it was always slowly, as if the muscles had forgotten the correct arrangement for a smile and were pulling into something closer to a smirk. He would laugh in the middle of meetings at nothing then act as if he hadn't, growing irritated if he was accused.
It was greeted with a mixture of concern and relief when he finally ceased attending meetings altogether.
In a little over two hours, I have a job interview. I've never had one before. Then I need to get an early night because I have a goddamn JSA meeting at 9.40 in the morning. My mind is already rebelling against the idea of 9 - 5 and I don't even work yet. I am just going to fail at life, forever. Well, I'm in no hurry to move out and I think so long as I pay my way mother will be in no hurry to kick me out, and god knows with how the bills are going by the time I want to move out I won't be able to because if I do my parents won't be able to afford the house.
I think I'll just keep subtly nudging
nasty_show into getting a flat with me =PI've started to play Echo Bazaar again, and now I can't get the idea of what an EB!Arthur would be like out of my head. I've had a few phrases and mental images floating around in my head for a while now so I'm going to see how well I can put them down.
--
Arthur hadn't been the same since London fell. At first it had been hard to see, but then the deterioration had occurred so quickly that even if there had been something they could have done to stop it, there would have been no time. He had been quiet, he said he was fine. Then he began to forget people's names. He began to dress strangely and talk in short, aggravated tones to voices that no one else could hear. Voices that he always addressed as 'Master'. He would talk about things that no one else understood, and then appear distressed at the blank, uncomprehending looks that he would receive in response to his ramblings. Within days, it seemed, dark circles appeared under his eyes and when he smiled it was always slowly, as if the muscles had forgotten the correct arrangement for a smile and were pulling into something closer to a smirk. He would laugh in the middle of meetings at nothing then act as if he hadn't, growing irritated if he was accused.
It was greeted with a mixture of concern and relief when he finally ceased attending meetings altogether.
