Serafíne will never, ever, ever, be any help whatsoever in mending fences, wooden or otherwise; or 'tilling the garden, or mowing the grass, or repairing the screens or putting up the storm windows or washing the back patio or cleaning the kitchen or really -
- much of anything.
She will, however, replenish the chantry's pot supply with great regularity, particularly since she may well be the only person who dips into it with any regularity. Though that isn't happening now.
But see, not long after Grace has shown up, a goddamned anniversary edition Porsche 911 in anthracite brown pulls up behind Grace's car and Sera -
- who is dressed in a white babydoll mini-sundress with spaghetti straps and flat-ish heeled black Doc Martins because she wants to know what it was like to have lived through the age of grunge as more than a child -
- slides out of the passenger's side door, waits for someone to pop the trunk (do these things have trunks?). Grabs the handles of some re-useable shopping bags, the sort made of laminated rice and/or feed bags and sold in fair trade shops.
Essential supplies these, you'll have to guess what. For now.
---
Inside, the doors swing open. Sera carts her bags (just two) in to the kitchen and -
"Grace! You made it. Rock on. I was just thinking that I oughtta give you a call. Fuck, welcome! What the hell has been going on with you - "
And Sera is the sort of person who can say rock on and not sound like a complete shit. Mostly because she sounds so pleased, and draws attention to herself like a lodestone. Then circling the kitchen, before Justin has quite finished at the sink.
"Jesus Christ, Justin, is this a chantry or a nudist colony, put some fucking clothes on, man. What the hell - " with an edgy, quicksilver grin that takes in that glance Shoshannah was giving Justin. " - careful, or the natives'll get all restless."
Also: pot - kettle Sera, since as soon as she heaves up those shopping bags they can all see that beneath her not-exactly-prim white sundress she is wearing black lingerie and thigh-high fishnets held up by black garters. All visible beneath the translucent material. Because that is how she dresses, guys.
- much of anything.
She will, however, replenish the chantry's pot supply with great regularity, particularly since she may well be the only person who dips into it with any regularity. Though that isn't happening now.
But see, not long after Grace has shown up, a goddamned anniversary edition Porsche 911 in anthracite brown pulls up behind Grace's car and Sera -
- who is dressed in a white babydoll mini-sundress with spaghetti straps and flat-ish heeled black Doc Martins because she wants to know what it was like to have lived through the age of grunge as more than a child -
- slides out of the passenger's side door, waits for someone to pop the trunk (do these things have trunks?). Grabs the handles of some re-useable shopping bags, the sort made of laminated rice and/or feed bags and sold in fair trade shops.
Essential supplies these, you'll have to guess what. For now.
---
Inside, the doors swing open. Sera carts her bags (just two) in to the kitchen and -
"Grace! You made it. Rock on. I was just thinking that I oughtta give you a call. Fuck, welcome! What the hell has been going on with you - "
And Sera is the sort of person who can say rock on and not sound like a complete shit. Mostly because she sounds so pleased, and draws attention to herself like a lodestone. Then circling the kitchen, before Justin has quite finished at the sink.
"Jesus Christ, Justin, is this a chantry or a nudist colony, put some fucking clothes on, man. What the hell - " with an edgy, quicksilver grin that takes in that glance Shoshannah was giving Justin. " - careful, or the natives'll get all restless."
Also: pot - kettle Sera, since as soon as she heaves up those shopping bags they can all see that beneath her not-exactly-prim white sundress she is wearing black lingerie and thigh-high fishnets held up by black garters. All visible beneath the translucent material. Because that is how she dresses, guys.
But my heart is wild and my bones are steel
And I could kill you with my bare hands if I was free.
- Phosphorescent, Song for Zula
And I could kill you with my bare hands if I was free.
- Phosphorescent, Song for Zula