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[gidge]

PICK YOUR POISON
PIC PROMPTS / TFLN / RANDOM SCENARIO
HAN SOLO velocities	BETTY MCRAE bombsheller	RIVER TAM subsulcus	RIVER TAM (AU) comprehender
SIMON TAM vest	BRIA THAREN exulted	NADINE CROSS bridaled	GU JUN-PYO toddler
available on special request: veronica sawyer, benjamin linus, imani, maria deluca, mushu, poseidon, niccolò machiavelli, malik al-sayf, chloe

Comments

[terrifies]

It's not easy, interacting this way with other kindred who have terrifying powers and potentially awful intentions, but the idea is sound. The more you play the game, the better you get at it, the more you can defend your own interests and help advance the interests of your allies.

The bump is cute. They are reassured by the bump.

"There's always a time for it. I like to wait until people ask for my advice." Ouija's voice was soft and quiet, a gentle thing, in that moment, "And I'm in a glass house," They added, incapable of not ruining the moment with a silly joke.

She is adorable, she is fierce and she is sharp in all the best places, and soft in others, like a classic example of the predator/prey line they all must walk to survive.

"You won't look vain. You'll look like you're entertaining your guest with fine music." Ouija looks down at the record, and then adds, "At some point - I hope you'll make a copy, just in case. But for now, please play it for me?"

[acaseofyou]

Birdie's saving grace is that, much of the time, the Fugue obscures things just enough to let secret things stay secret.

That the bump is reassuring is good, because she leans again. Though it's not a bump, this time. More a lean, a lingering brush of her shoulder against theirs.

"I won't throw rocks if you won't," said smiling and soft and a little conspiratorial. There's already plenty conspiracy going on already. Then, a little more seriously, "Maybe when we're in Vegas I can get a full assessment."

Not quite yet, not quite now. Not when she's moving to stand and take the record back from Ouija's hands.

"There's others out there still," as she turns to take the Mamas and the Papas back off the turntable. "Not sure what condition they're in, but I'd had a hundred made. Probably a couple in private collections."

Not unlike Edward's, or even her own. Hidden away and secret. Birdie fiddles with the records, putting away one and putting on her own, gently dropping the needle down before she heads back to the beanbag as her own voice comes through the speakers -- different, human, somehow younger and smaller than how she sounds now.

It's mostly covers, only two songs that she'd written herself. Standards, like 'House Carpenter,' sandwiched in with the ones that had been new then but are standards now, like 'Little Boxes.' It starts, though, with 'Thirsty Boots.'