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 Posted: Thu Nov 15, 2018 10:02 am
Home of Allan Morrighan
»“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—
---- Only this and nothing more.”
════════════════════════════════»Living Room/Kitchen:
»Bedroom:
»Bathroom:
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Posted: Thu Nov 22, 2018 7:24 pm
 Allan Morrighan »Location: Home • Company: Nobody
--Mood: Slightly flustered, Amused • Thoughts: What even happened yesterday? • Condition: Healthy
-- Energy: 99/100 • Wearing: This, but without the coat. • Carrying: Newspaper [Previously], Guitar [Currently Playing.]
════════════════════════════════════ Allan had started day off feeling relaxed. 'First night of decent sleep in a couple of days.' He thought. So much so that he felt making coffee would be pretty unnecessary. Today marked his third day in town, and he wondered how it would go. But then, of course, he remembered his wings. Upon hearing something hit the front door, Allan jumped, causing his wings to spread abruptly and hit the lamp on the end-table nearby.
"Frickin' Dang it! He yelled as the lamp flickered on the floor. Allan didn't care that he swore like a child. Most gigs he had before arriving in Fantaisie City were meant to entertain them anyways, and he got used to it. After picking up the lamp from the floor - surprisingly unbroken - he decided to go outside to see what made the sound.
It turned out that the cause was just the daily paper hitting the door when it was thrown towards his house. "Huh.." Allan shrugged and decided he didn't really have much else to do aside from reading it. So he took it inside with him. After a few minutes, Allan felt it seemed pretty average for a newspaper but then, an article caught his eye.
Did he read that right? Not being much of a gossiper, Allan didn't usually read columns like this but this was strange to him. The only other people he saw even close enough to see and report something like this was that fighting couple from the festival..Although, after reading the bit about them above what was written about him, he denied it - thinking they wouldn't report themselves to the paper. That would be silly! "Wellp, so much for that friendship.." Allan grumbled, under the impression the poor young woman he tried to help would probably try avoiding him now.
'If I see her again, maybe I should apologize..' He thought to himself, 'In private though, I don't want to get rid of this Fallen Angel facade just yet.. And it seems this article is only fanning the flames.' With this, Allan put the paper down on the counter and decided to get changed. Afterwards, he'd practice on his guitar to try clearing his mind. Not that he needed the practice..
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»Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—
---- Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
---------------Of ‘Never—nevermore’.” »OOC:
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