WESSEX
“Right?” Wessex asks hypothetically, snorting a bit. “Who the fuck puts a piano on a ship anyway?” She can only shake her head and shrug - it was a story from a long time ago, with no meaning other than the bare bones of nostalgia.
A pirate ship is still a stupid place for a piano. So it did serve them right - for being stupid, if nothing else.
Light blue eyes fall upon the dispatched pumpkin, the grass around them still but for a light breeze that blows through the rolling hills and valleys. Mournful, almost, perhaps the faintest crying of someone long dead. Apt, for Ludo’s season, she thinks. “See any other pumpkins?” she asks, sitting up a bit and indicating Mabel’s slight vantage point. If not, they could probably call it a night.
A pirate ship is still a stupid place for a piano. So it did serve them right - for being stupid, if nothing else.
Light blue eyes fall upon the dispatched pumpkin, the grass around them still but for a light breeze that blows through the rolling hills and valleys. Mournful, almost, perhaps the faintest crying of someone long dead. Apt, for Ludo’s season, she thinks. “See any other pumpkins?” she asks, sitting up a bit and indicating Mabel’s slight vantage point. If not, they could probably call it a night.
there was a time that we were kind, but now
don't write me, you're not fooling anyone
don't write me, you're not fooling anyone
