04-29-2018, 12:53 PM
★ WHEN MY HEART IS MADE FROM GOLD AND FORGIVENESS SEEMS TOO BOLD
ooc [member=449]Margaery[/member]
mii: watches HGTV once
mii:
mii: writes five paragraphs of home design
Hazel was on her third day of clearing out the room she’d come to call her own. She was tired and sore from pushing heavy things around, trying to clear up some floor space to set up something that resembled her old room. Or...not her old room. She didn’t know. She had spent so much time - both willingly and unwillingly - in that small room with its one window and pile of blankets she’d molded into the shape of a bed, that she couldn’t really imagine any other way a room might look.
It was in that sense that the old filing cabinets and boxes and other organizational devices cluttering the room were a sort of comfort: making the big room seem a little smaller, a little more manageable.
But that didn’t mean Hazel hadn’t ever dreamt of things she wanted to add to her old room that Mother wouldn’t let her. During long days when the lock on her door stayed tightly tilted to the left, Hazel would lay back and hum to herself, imagining what she could turn the tiny wooden room into one day. She’d add posters to the walls and hang polaroids next to the window; she would plug in a projector that reflected the night sky on her ceiling; she would plant succulents in the broken pots she found in her backyard and put them in the windowsill; she would paint whatever she could see and hang it up on the wall opposite of all her posters and pictures, so there was a sort of balance; she would find baskets and line them up along the wall, filling them with books and fairy tales and stories of far off worlds.
This was why she had been working so tirelessly; using Arion’s help to push the heavy things against the wall, and taking hours to find a wagon and some rope so he could help carry all the smaller things to a room filled with junk. She got rid of the papers and trash and found something to clean up the floors with. She’d found lamps and outlets to plug them in to. She also found that the room itself was a bland color, and her childish dream of being able to paint whatever she wanted in her room was slowly getting closer.
And so it was a sunny day, and Hazel was still working, shuffling amongst the junk and things in a certain corner and humming pleasantly to herself, feeling more escaped from her old life than she ever.
mii: watches HGTV once
mii:
mii: writes five paragraphs of home design
Hazel was on her third day of clearing out the room she’d come to call her own. She was tired and sore from pushing heavy things around, trying to clear up some floor space to set up something that resembled her old room. Or...not her old room. She didn’t know. She had spent so much time - both willingly and unwillingly - in that small room with its one window and pile of blankets she’d molded into the shape of a bed, that she couldn’t really imagine any other way a room might look.
It was in that sense that the old filing cabinets and boxes and other organizational devices cluttering the room were a sort of comfort: making the big room seem a little smaller, a little more manageable.
But that didn’t mean Hazel hadn’t ever dreamt of things she wanted to add to her old room that Mother wouldn’t let her. During long days when the lock on her door stayed tightly tilted to the left, Hazel would lay back and hum to herself, imagining what she could turn the tiny wooden room into one day. She’d add posters to the walls and hang polaroids next to the window; she would plug in a projector that reflected the night sky on her ceiling; she would plant succulents in the broken pots she found in her backyard and put them in the windowsill; she would paint whatever she could see and hang it up on the wall opposite of all her posters and pictures, so there was a sort of balance; she would find baskets and line them up along the wall, filling them with books and fairy tales and stories of far off worlds.
This was why she had been working so tirelessly; using Arion’s help to push the heavy things against the wall, and taking hours to find a wagon and some rope so he could help carry all the smaller things to a room filled with junk. She got rid of the papers and trash and found something to clean up the floors with. She’d found lamps and outlets to plug them in to. She also found that the room itself was a bland color, and her childish dream of being able to paint whatever she wanted in her room was slowly getting closer.
And so it was a sunny day, and Hazel was still working, shuffling amongst the junk and things in a certain corner and humming pleasantly to herself, feeling more escaped from her old life than she ever.
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WITH EVERY HEARTBEAT I HAVE LEFT
i will defend your every breath; i'll do better