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Ferid Báthory (
seventhprogenitor
) wrote
in
trustfelled
2016-07-29 03:18 am (UTC)
no subject
[He suuuure is.]
Nothing but clouds. Or cotton, maybe. They're practically made of the same thing, or so the poets sing.
[Boy, is he tired. Ferid props his chin on his hand, tapping the pencil on his sketchbook, and smiles slightly.]
Are you looking for something, Brady?
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no subject
Nothing but clouds. Or cotton, maybe. They're practically made of the same thing, or so the poets sing.
[Boy, is he tired. Ferid props his chin on his hand, tapping the pencil on his sketchbook, and smiles slightly.]
Are you looking for something, Brady?