Allison Argent (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
theresalwayshope) wrote2015-05-11 01:14 pm
theresalwayshope) wrote2015-05-11 01:14 pm
31} just like a needle in a haystack, another day when we run with the wolfpack...
{forward dated to tomorrow, because the mun is impatient. :P}
[ACCIDENTAL PUBLIC VIDEO]
[When the feed flickers to life, it shows an unconscious Allison Argent, head half-buried in her pillow. The arm she has flung out towards the camera, fingertips looming large in the shot, show that she's the culprit who activated the transmission: more likely than not, she roused just enough to roll over and, in a sleepy haze, shut off a nonexistent alarm, inadvertently flicking on her video feed.
The dead transmission continues on until it is interrupted...she may be asleep, but Allison Argent's coma is officially over.]
[OPEN SPAM]
[Allison is in a miserable mood by the time she finally showers and gets dressed, heading to the dining hall to eat. For a while, she walks the corridors of the ship, just to stretch her legs and really start to feel awake again, with stops to pick up Brownie and Duchess along the way.
Once Brownie has been walked, unwilling to separate from them just yet, Allison finally heads for the pub. The keys jingle in her hand with a sad, hollow sound.
She files in with Brownie on her heels, surveying the place with a sigh. She'd requested custody of the place just after she realized Duke was gone, then fallen into another stupid coma before she could take proper care of it.
She missed him...Jesus, she missed him.
Taking a deep breath, she walked over to slip behind the bar, setting Duchess down on the end with her bandanna, some hay, and one of her chew toys to amuse her. Ever the responsible "mother," Brownie planted herself to lay on the floor directly under Duchess's perch while Allison began to shuffle around, looking over the glasses, booze, and anything else Duke might have left behind.
It was her place now...she had to learn how to keep it running.]
[ACCIDENTAL PUBLIC VIDEO]
[When the feed flickers to life, it shows an unconscious Allison Argent, head half-buried in her pillow. The arm she has flung out towards the camera, fingertips looming large in the shot, show that she's the culprit who activated the transmission: more likely than not, she roused just enough to roll over and, in a sleepy haze, shut off a nonexistent alarm, inadvertently flicking on her video feed.
The dead transmission continues on until it is interrupted...she may be asleep, but Allison Argent's coma is officially over.]
[OPEN SPAM]
[Allison is in a miserable mood by the time she finally showers and gets dressed, heading to the dining hall to eat. For a while, she walks the corridors of the ship, just to stretch her legs and really start to feel awake again, with stops to pick up Brownie and Duchess along the way.
Once Brownie has been walked, unwilling to separate from them just yet, Allison finally heads for the pub. The keys jingle in her hand with a sad, hollow sound.
She files in with Brownie on her heels, surveying the place with a sigh. She'd requested custody of the place just after she realized Duke was gone, then fallen into another stupid coma before she could take proper care of it.
She missed him...Jesus, she missed him.
Taking a deep breath, she walked over to slip behind the bar, setting Duchess down on the end with her bandanna, some hay, and one of her chew toys to amuse her. Ever the responsible "mother," Brownie planted herself to lay on the floor directly under Duchess's perch while Allison began to shuffle around, looking over the glasses, booze, and anything else Duke might have left behind.
It was her place now...she had to learn how to keep it running.]
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