Shelly Greenhill (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ex_diplomacy861) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
vatheon2012-03-06 05:31 pm
ex_diplomacy861) wrote in vatheon2012-03-06 05:31 pm
Entry tags:
03
Who: Shelly and anyone
Where: Lower District → Middle District
When: Afternoon
Style: Either
Status: Open
[Early in the afternoon, Shelly heads down to the lower district as a continuation of a long due exploration. While she's at it, perhaps she can see how effective products from the Nostalgia Nook are. Given the epidemic a while back, how about, say, a panacea for a test run?
The Great Lamufao has other things in mind, apparently, and Shelly stares long and hard at what she just accidentally spent her tokens on.]
. . . You're kidding me. You're giving me that?
[So Shelly returns to the Middle District with a whole new(?) pancreas of her own. Some deity, couldn't it have given it to her in a jar or something? She's going to need new gloves -- not to mention the smell.
But not now. Not when she looks out and one modest building catches her eyes. Peering over the potted plants through the window, she hums.]
A salon . . .
Where: Lower District → Middle District
When: Afternoon
Style: Either
Status: Open
[Early in the afternoon, Shelly heads down to the lower district as a continuation of a long due exploration. While she's at it, perhaps she can see how effective products from the Nostalgia Nook are. Given the epidemic a while back, how about, say, a panacea for a test run?
The Great Lamufao has other things in mind, apparently, and Shelly stares long and hard at what she just accidentally spent her tokens on.]
. . . You're kidding me. You're giving me that?
[So Shelly returns to the Middle District with a whole new(?) pancreas of her own. Some deity, couldn't it have given it to her in a jar or something? She's going to need new gloves -- not to mention the smell.
But not now. Not when she looks out and one modest building catches her eyes. Peering over the potted plants through the window, she hums.]
A salon . . .