03-19-2020, 08:34 AM
[align=center][div style="width: 480px; text-align: justify; font-family: calibri; font-size: 8pt; color: #484848; word-spacing: 4px; line-height: 22px;"]
if there's a handbook for this, no one has bothered to share it to her. no one strutted along to tell the blonde exactly how one goes about joining a group. what to wear, where to wait, how to act. it should seem obvious (normal, border, polite), but somehow it isn't, at least not for her.
she manages to figure out the first two by pure intuition, though her normal might be akin to someone else's homeless. a massive sweater, blue and red plaid and far too large, covers her frame. boyfriend jeans, cuffed at the ankles to compensate for her stature, and distressed at the knees from years of wear, hug her hips just barely. her boots are old, half a size too big and scuffed to death. her head, adorned with shaggy blonde hair that looked vaguely brushed, was clad with a gray knit hat, pulled low over her ears. all of the clothes, if you look closely enough, are designed for a man— or, rather, a teenage boy. and yet they carry the same scent she does, and she wears them well enough to make it obvious they belonged to her.
she stands at the border for ten or so minutes before, out of pure laziness, she slides down to a seated position beside a tree. a duffel bag, packed to the brim and the zipper only mostly closed, rests behind her, completing her vagrant ensemble. one glance at her, hardly five foot three, in a ball before the tree, and you might think she's some small homeless boy. instead, she's some small, pseud-runaway woman.
a dog ambles from around the tree, business done, and each step is seemingly slow and labored. he's short and dense, easily a hundred pounds, and he grunts with each step, wearing the familiar ugly/cute face of a bulldog. with a huff, he throws himself onto her lap, and if the presence of a dog that damn near weighs as much as she does bothers her, she makes no show of it. instead, aspen absentmindedly rubs behind his ear until he dozes off, snores erupting from his body and echoing through the forest surrounding them, no doubt notifying anyone nearby of their presence.
( not eloquent but it's 4:30am )
if there's a handbook for this, no one has bothered to share it to her. no one strutted along to tell the blonde exactly how one goes about joining a group. what to wear, where to wait, how to act. it should seem obvious (normal, border, polite), but somehow it isn't, at least not for her.
she manages to figure out the first two by pure intuition, though her normal might be akin to someone else's homeless. a massive sweater, blue and red plaid and far too large, covers her frame. boyfriend jeans, cuffed at the ankles to compensate for her stature, and distressed at the knees from years of wear, hug her hips just barely. her boots are old, half a size too big and scuffed to death. her head, adorned with shaggy blonde hair that looked vaguely brushed, was clad with a gray knit hat, pulled low over her ears. all of the clothes, if you look closely enough, are designed for a man— or, rather, a teenage boy. and yet they carry the same scent she does, and she wears them well enough to make it obvious they belonged to her.
she stands at the border for ten or so minutes before, out of pure laziness, she slides down to a seated position beside a tree. a duffel bag, packed to the brim and the zipper only mostly closed, rests behind her, completing her vagrant ensemble. one glance at her, hardly five foot three, in a ball before the tree, and you might think she's some small homeless boy. instead, she's some small, pseud-runaway woman.
a dog ambles from around the tree, business done, and each step is seemingly slow and labored. he's short and dense, easily a hundred pounds, and he grunts with each step, wearing the familiar ugly/cute face of a bulldog. with a huff, he throws himself onto her lap, and if the presence of a dog that damn near weighs as much as she does bothers her, she makes no show of it. instead, aspen absentmindedly rubs behind his ear until he dozes off, snores erupting from his body and echoing through the forest surrounding them, no doubt notifying anyone nearby of their presence.
( not eloquent but it's 4:30am )