seveninchmotto | Room 17, Second Floor, Haunted House, Tuesday Afternoon

Entry tags:

Room 17, Second Floor, Haunted House, Tuesday Afternoon

Thanks to all the drama in New York, Isabelle was a late arrival to the house on Ingvar. Of course, now that she'd been there for all of an hour, you could hardly tell she hadn't been there all along. She had a supernatural skill both for transporting a lot of her possessions over from the main island, as well as for spreading said possessions all across the room with very little thought to the fact that she was apparently sharing this room with someone. So, in that respect, she was already as at home as she possibly could be.

This house felt like bad news, though. She felt like she was being watched while she was straightening up the few extra pillows on the bed. And she did not like the feeling.

[ooc: Open!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Nathan had gone into town after his class and was just now getting back. When he stepped inside, he stopped immediately and looked around. There were a lot of things that were now there that hadn't been there before.

He didn't say anything but his eyes did find the new occupant of the room and he raised his eyebrows at her.

Oh, good, this time there really was someone looking at her. Isabelle was more pleased than she would have cared to be. And hey, she even recognized the face from class earlier!

She thought his attitude had been no fun, but he was cute so he had that going for him.

She raised one eyebrow back at him. "Looking for something?"

"My bed," he said dryly, stepping in and trying to avoid anything of hers that might be on the floor. He felt a little self conscious around her for some reason and ducked his head, trying to hide his eyes and neck.

Because looking awkward around her would surely lessen her interest. (No, it probably wouldn't.) But at least she was yet to manage to get any of her bras on the floor or anything.

Give her a few days, though.

"Well I suppose that makes you my roommate," she noted, without any apology about how much space she'd taken up. "Hello, I'm Isabelle."

"Hello. Nathan," he said, giving her a nod and finally making it to his bed. He dropped his bag of purchases and then sat down beside it. That just made it easier to cross his arms, cover up his hands and fingers.

"Didn't think I had a roommate," he admitted, looking up at her after a second.

"I had business to attend to in New York," Isabelle replied lightly, nudging the pillows one last time now that introductions had been handled. "But it should be over, so I'll be sticking around now."

Welcome to living with all her stuff, Nathan.

"Ah." Lucky him. He was so thrilled. "Do you need help...putting things away?"

Silly him.

Isabelle snorted. Yeah, she'd accept help carrying her things (not that she needed that either), but no one else was touching them beyond that. "No," she said, although she shot him a little smirk over her shoulder. "But thank you, that's very sweet."

"Mmm." Nathan mostly just wanted to make sure he had some room of his own though he was beginning to wonder if that was going to happen. "Yes, I'm very sweet."

He wasn't. But, she could have her illusions. Nathan got up and went about putting some of his meager purchases away. Some cigarettes that he probably wouldn't smoke, a few packs of gum and a Swiss Army knife that he'd found interesting.

Isabelle had no opinion on his sweetness or lack of it, really. It was just a thing to say.

She glanced over at his purchases, then shook her head before going to get some more of her clothes straightened out.

"Problem?" Nathan asked, raising an eyebrow. "Something you don't like and care to share?"

"I've just never understood the point of those knife things," Isabelle replied easily, shrugging and pushing her hair back over her shoulder. "You can't even really do anything with them."

Nathan shrugged. "I don't know, it looked useful. I thought it might come in handy in a pinch. Sorry you don't approve. You don't have to use it."

"Thankfully, because I would never get anything done." Yeah there were probably a bunch of knives hidden among all the clothes she'd brought over. She waved her Marked hand distractedly. "But I'm sure it's just fine for whatever you might want to use it for."

She was assuming him to be a mundane for now, and most mundanes didn't strictly speaking need too flashy knives.

Nathan went to say something when his eyes caught sight of that Mark on her hand. He squinted at it curiously. It didn't look exactly like his tattoo but it didn't look like any regular sort of tattoo either.

Huh.

Didn't a lot of people have eye-shaped rune tattoos covering the back of one hand, almost stretching to the knuckles?

No, no they did not.

Isabelle had kind of expected a reply, so she glanced at him again, and caught the squint. "Looking at something?"

"Your hand," he admitted, looking away. "I thought I saw something on it. I was just trying to see what it was."

No, he knew he'd seen something on it. No thought about it.

Well, that was twice in one day now, so Isabelle wasn't inclined to let it go so easily. Her head tilted a fraction.

"Thought you saw, or saw?"

Nathan shrugged a shoulder. "It looked pretty clear to me. Like a tattoo or something. It didn't look bad. Just in a spot I wouldn't have guessed."

But he had one on his freaking neck so he wasn't really someone who could talk.

Isabelle shrugged, and picked up a shirt from her bag.

"It's a cultural thing."

It wasn't a lie. The placement of the Mark for Sight was very much a cultural thing, and the rune had special significance too.

"Okay." Nathan accepted that with a shrug. He padded back over to his bed and sat back down. "Good for you."

"Not a lot of people notice."

That was perfectly idle. She was shaking the shirt out, making sure there'd be no creases left.

"Really?" Nathan sounded surprised. "It's pretty obvious. It's in dark ink and it's right on the top of your hand. Thought everyone would notice."

"It's not ink," Isabelle replied. She might not elaborate on that point, but she also saw no real reason not to correct the assumption. "Unlike your neck, I'm sure."

She'd noticed.

"And mine's not just ink," he felt compelled to say. "Guess we were both wrong."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject