Third Floor Common Room, Monday Noon

[sheisnotnice.livejournal.com]

Another Monday, another feeling of slight unease to beat down into submission after philosophy class.

Natalie walked into her common room, brushing wavy strands of hair further away from hger face. She'd been keeping her hair shorter, just barely falling onto her shoulders, since coming to Fandom. Just more convenient for the inevitable fights. As for how she'd taken up styling it more... Fandom days were long. Sometimes working on trivial things like your appearance was good for the soul.

It was probably much for the same reason that she'd taken up tinkering with tea, mixing up different kinds in search of the perfect combination. It was a harmless pastime, something to soothe her. She was going to need a cigarette or two, later, when she went out to observe patrolling or just walk and see whether anyone was up to anything that ought to be disapproved of, but for now this would have to do. Like so many times before, she put her bag of various kinds of tea down on the counter in the kitchen area and got out the notebook she used to record her various experiments.

Secretly she hoped she wouldn't hit on the perfect combination today, either.

[ooc: Open common room!]

Third Floor Common Room, Monday Evening

[plzdontcatchme.livejournal.com]

Well. If you asked Frank, this whole pretending-to-be-a-loyalist plan was a pretty good one. He'd been on Team Good for about two weeks now, opposing the evil regime and all that, but instead of living in the back of a warehouse and fishing food out from bins, he got to hang out in the common room, sleep in a bed, and wash his clothes regularly. Really, it was the best way to do things.

So, taking full advantage of that, he had his clothes in a laundry machine downstairs, a movie on about some guy going on a road trip on a moped, and an insane amount of Chinese food on the table in front of him.

He'd totally bring some of it back for his fellow rebels to enjoy, but right now he was bonding with some mu shu pork. Just cut him some slack, okay?

[[finally got up the courage to post something and it winds up being... this. open, with SP while lockestheway and i grab some sushi!]]

Dorm Hallways & Stairwells, Late Monday Night

[hurricaneanna.livejournal.com]

Somewhere on the sixth floor, late enough that all good little boys and girls should be snug in their beds, she appeared, flickering like an image on a television trying to fight its way out of the screen and into reality: Anna Dressed in Blood. Or perhaps, since her name was far from common knowledge on this island, The Girl in White. Girl of Nightmares, Girl From Hell. Anna didn't know what they called her, and she didn't care. She'd been here for months now, and the most the majority of the island would ever see of her was this:

She moved slowly through the dorms, up and down the halls and down the stairs, through each floor in turn, her feet dragging horribly, like she couldn't use them at all. Dark, purplish veins cut through her dead white skin, and her eyes were like oil drops, making it impossible to tell where she was or wasn't looking, or if there was any intelligence behind that gaze. Her hair was shadowless black, moving through the air as though suspended in water, snaking out and behind and drifting like reeds. It was the only thing about her that looked alive.

Her dress was mostly white, the blood only dripping down the front to stain the floor and rapidly soak in and disappear. It should have been a gown of moving blood, but no one in the dorms knew that, just like they didn't how much of an act of will it was to hold back. She didn't want them to guess how dangerous she really was. Let them think her an aimless spirit, wandering because she didn't know she was dead. Let the grotesque, shuffling thump of her steps disturb their slumber, or the creak of her hand on the banister, let them lie in their bed and wonder if they could hear each fat drop of blood from her dress strike the floor or if it was just their imagination. Let them tell tales about her, and let those that had seen her remember and feel a shiver they wouldn't admit to in the light of day. She was just a ghost, after all. Completely harmless. Let them think that.

She reached the end of her journey eventually, walking straight through the closed lobby door and out into the night. Anyone looking out their window on that side of the dorm might see her, in her bloodstained dress, float across the lawn in the moonlight, her dragging stride seemingly forgotten, before she turned and looked back at the dorms, something like a smile flickering on her black, lifeless lips. And then she flickered out and was gone.

That should do for now.

((NFI, reactions from safely behind your doors okay. Parts of this post adapted from Anna Dressed in Blood.))