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PSL: That Baraways
Mar. 4th, 2016 09:39 amEdythe is sitting at the bar. A delicate-looking girl with messy bronze hair, she's wearing the kind of dropped-waist dress popular in the 1920s (daywear, not fancy flapper or evening) but that hair doesn't quite match. It's not bobbed. It's not enough pinned up to mimic a bob. It's just spilling down her back in not-quite-real looking waves.
There's a drink, too. Something simple, but there's an umbrella straw. She's not drinking it. Instead, she's looking out over the room, idly spinning that umbrella around and around her glass with a too-pale finger.
Around and around, the pink umbrella goes.
She looks a little bored, but she's actually enjoying herself. Here in this bar, the thoughts she hears are easier to manage. So many different languages that fizzle out into just impressions and images, and those can sometimes be easier to fade out into a background hum.
Still. She's a beautiful girl, looking bored.
Someone will come over and talk.
There's a drink, too. Something simple, but there's an umbrella straw. She's not drinking it. Instead, she's looking out over the room, idly spinning that umbrella around and around her glass with a too-pale finger.
Around and around, the pink umbrella goes.
She looks a little bored, but she's actually enjoying herself. Here in this bar, the thoughts she hears are easier to manage. So many different languages that fizzle out into just impressions and images, and those can sometimes be easier to fade out into a background hum.
Still. She's a beautiful girl, looking bored.
Someone will come over and talk.
