Mar. 11th, 2009

hell_in_highheels: (Default)
She started as soon as he left, working through the afternoon and into night.  Bar was very accommodating, and seemed to take a bit of enjoyment out of her list of possible ideas.

They started with the basic floor plan.  An open floor plan, doubling the size of the flat.  Ceilings pushed to twelve feet, harsh edges softened with a gentle organic line.  For the floors, a beautiful dark hardwood.   Hand hewn beams for the four massive columns (cover, not just concealment) that marked the corners of the living area, with the fireplace at the focal point.  Persian rugs in reds and golds, and a proper seating area, leather couches, overstuffed and deep.  A low table (more surfaces for books).

The picture window grew and curved outward to become a window seat big enough for both of them to stretch out in at the same time.  Curtains and cushions all a palette of dark greens, the walls in a warm ivory.  Art would come later, she thought.

A kitchen with a table and two chairs, ample counter space to cook.  She thinks about the fact that she hasn't cooked in ages, and how nice it would be to cook for the two of them.  And friends even.

In a smaller but still open alcove beyond the main room, she places a broader bed on a low heavy platform, also in dark wood.  Big enough for two people and a large dog.  The requested dressers on each side of the bed.  An oval free-standing long mirror .  A bathroom with two sinks, a shower and a large clawfoot tub (Are those wolf paws?) tucked into a niche.

Back in the main room, bookshelves along one wall.  She pondered that for awhile.  They can always add more if they need them.

About two o'clock in the morning, Bar refuses to rearrange the rugs again.  Yes, you're right, she thinks. Time for sleep.

~~~

She woke at their usual time and it took a moment to remember why the other side of the bed was cold and empty.  She showered quickly and dressed, thinking she'd go down and eat something.   She ended up sitting in the picture window, looking out over the lake, into the forest beyond, wondering where he was.  She drew the shawl around her and picked up a book (William Blake, today).

It wasn't long before she was dozing sitting up.

hell_in_highheels: (full moon)
It's still dark when she wakes, but dawn is already lightning the sky.  She dresses in long skirts, her favourite wool sweater, and her grey woollen shawl.  And her field boots.  The lakeside is rocky, and they're practical.

She makes her way down the stairs to the bar, not really surprised to see a others who are still awake from the previous evening's carousing.  She doesn't pause to socialise.  She makes her way out the back and down the path to the lakeside, her eyes on the tree line.  She walks the shore, rubbing her arms against the chill, putting more and more distance between herself and the bar.

This time it is she who is searching for him in the mist.

He told her not to come after him when the moon was up.  But it had set hours ago.  The sun was almost over the ridge. 

Profile

hell_in_highheels: (Default)
River Song

November 2009

S M T W T F S
1234567
8 91011121314
15161718192021
22232425262728
2930     

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 22nd, 2017 04:19 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios