Post by devon on Oct 27, 2009 22:39:12 GMT -7
Rules flew up and down the sky, coming and going, and regrettably sticking. How dreary. Things came and went, but that which stayed the same was hardly interesting enough that it should do so. But, never the less, and notwithstanding any natural law of physics, there was always drudgery.
Most of which involved reporting. Shuffled papers were handed over from one side to another. First in the right hand, then in the left hand, then on top of her head. Of course, and after that she tucked them inside her pocket. Then the papers found themselves nestled inside her brown leather boot, the scraping texture not even really bothering her that much.
It was time to turn in her reports for the period. It might have been a weeks worth. It might have been a months wroth. It might have been a day and a half. She wasn't quite sure. A secretary had simply called her, and nervously reminded her it was time for the report. At which time, Devon had dutifully gathered the scrambled papers, put them in some semblence of an order that probably would make no sense to anyone besides herself. Was there chronological order involved. Maybe, if you arranged it by the precise minute the paperwork was filled out.
Xenos. The Family Head of Weapon Dealing. Her division. Her boss. Poor guy. Responsibility didn't treat him well. It treated no one well. Busy fingers agile from wiring were working on the papers in her hands,sleeves shielding most of her work from sight. Finally the door rose in her sight like a shark from the depths of a lava pit. What, it was a lava shark!?!?!?! She shook her head as she knocked, with her foot, three times, two times, then seven times. then the door was opened a little, large enough to send three paper flyers through the air, little strips of fabric with orange wavering ends, sailing through the iar and spinning in the air, while she opened the door the rest of the way, staring at her little creations, slowly spiraling to the ground.
"BOOOOM!"
"My new project, Mr. Stranger.Nothin' more harmless looking than a paper airplane. Dey rar'ly e'en see the fuze burnin' down. Not till it lights off teh dusting of nitro. Then... the oil based paper..." The voice trailed off silently, and the woman moved from leaning casually against the door, to jumping forward, hands spread.
"BOOOOM!"
And then, the sudden burst of energy seemed to disappear. The planes were still floating in the air, lazily drifting down, and Devon Williams simply seemed to be letting her dark eyes watch them, idle, but intent.
Most of which involved reporting. Shuffled papers were handed over from one side to another. First in the right hand, then in the left hand, then on top of her head. Of course, and after that she tucked them inside her pocket. Then the papers found themselves nestled inside her brown leather boot, the scraping texture not even really bothering her that much.
It was time to turn in her reports for the period. It might have been a weeks worth. It might have been a months wroth. It might have been a day and a half. She wasn't quite sure. A secretary had simply called her, and nervously reminded her it was time for the report. At which time, Devon had dutifully gathered the scrambled papers, put them in some semblence of an order that probably would make no sense to anyone besides herself. Was there chronological order involved. Maybe, if you arranged it by the precise minute the paperwork was filled out.
Xenos. The Family Head of Weapon Dealing. Her division. Her boss. Poor guy. Responsibility didn't treat him well. It treated no one well. Busy fingers agile from wiring were working on the papers in her hands,sleeves shielding most of her work from sight. Finally the door rose in her sight like a shark from the depths of a lava pit. What, it was a lava shark!?!?!?! She shook her head as she knocked, with her foot, three times, two times, then seven times. then the door was opened a little, large enough to send three paper flyers through the air, little strips of fabric with orange wavering ends, sailing through the iar and spinning in the air, while she opened the door the rest of the way, staring at her little creations, slowly spiraling to the ground.
"BOOOOM!"
"My new project, Mr. Stranger.Nothin' more harmless looking than a paper airplane. Dey rar'ly e'en see the fuze burnin' down. Not till it lights off teh dusting of nitro. Then... the oil based paper..." The voice trailed off silently, and the woman moved from leaning casually against the door, to jumping forward, hands spread.
"BOOOOM!"
And then, the sudden burst of energy seemed to disappear. The planes were still floating in the air, lazily drifting down, and Devon Williams simply seemed to be letting her dark eyes watch them, idle, but intent.