Isabelle Lightwood (
seveninchmotto) wrote2014-07-01 11:50 pm
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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!]
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!]
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"You won't mind if I hang some of my dresses out, right?"
She wasn't actually asking his permission.
"Maybe a corset, too."
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"No."
Of course not.
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"Most politeness is just a way of achieving the illusion of giving a damn about others' opinions, anyway."
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Translation: she did not care. At all. Once the makeup things were adequately spread out across the desk, she went to pick up her bag off her bed, and slung it over her shoulder.
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Thankfully she didn't have a lot of her stuff on the floor. Yet, anyway.
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Yeah, this would work out fine.