Curious Chicklet Campfire - Afternoon

Thursday, August 21st, 2008 06:13 pm
[identity profile] first-guardian.livejournal.com
It was nice outside, just warm enough without being too hot. At least, Ichigo thought so and he'd grabbed a few items from the cabin before he installed himself beside the unlit campfire. The small portable radio beside him was tuned to a random station.

Now he was sitting on one of the logs, his head tipped back and eyes closed for a moment as the sun broke through the clouds again and he had almost forgotten about the notepad in his lap, the letter to home only barely started.

It was his brotherly duty to at least write a letter once a month, or something, but he wasn't sure what to put in it. Just like everything involving being a Shinigami, Fandom seemed to strange to try to explain them and he didn't want them to worry.

[Open as campfires are. Even the unlit ones.]
  • Current Mood: relaxed
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Curious Chicklet Campfire - Sunday Late Morning

Sunday, August 10th, 2008 03:34 pm
[identity profile] first-guardian.livejournal.com
Ichigo was bored. Bored enough to attempt to make coffee over the campfire. He was going to blame Tyler's classes even if they hadn't learned how to do this. It did smell like coffee, if you asked Ichigo. It certainly tasted like it. Perhaps a little too much as it was very, very strong coffee. Maybe it needed some milk or sugar, but that required getting up and Ichigo was comfortable.

Sort of comfortable as Ichigo was engaged in a staring contest with the cricket sitting only an inch away from his foot. Ichigo wasn't all too bothered by bugs, but he did reach up to scratch the back of his neck for some reason.

[[Open.]]
  • Current Mood: bored
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Curious Chicklet Campfire, Tuesday Evening

Tuesday, August 5th, 2008 05:24 pm
[identity profile] thismaskiwear.livejournal.com
To say that Katchoo was less than thrilled about this whole cabin experience was like saying that Georgia O'Keefe had had a vague, passing interest in flower metaphors. (Katchoo could have told her a thing or two about dirty flower artwork, but anyway.)

Hoping nobody would bug her if she was surrounded by a cloud of smoke, she was set up beside the campfire with a pack of her usual cheap cigarettes and a sketchbook, staring absently at the blank page in front of her. Communal living was hell on her creativity.

[OOC: You know the drill -- open!]
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