Dec. 20th, 2017


Dec. 20th, 2017 10:29 pm
finlay_flynn: (tilted right)
Fin had spent most of the day taking Felix's advice and performing poetry in the streets of the whimsical little Christmas city. He'd drawn a decent crowds, and as evening came he had a fair amount of coin to spend. ...But rather than bother with food or drink, Finlay had slunk off to a little shop dealing in art supplies and fine papers, spending his lot on several sketchbooks, pastels, oil paints and brushes- As well as a small leather bound journal to write in. In truth he'd likely spent more than he'd made, but the shop keeper with his twinkling eyes and warm smile had assured him he had exactly enough.

Hauling it back to town, Fin dropped most of it off back home, taking only a good pen and his leather bound journal along with him to the dome.

Sitting on the floor, he wrote quickly, jotting words down and occasionally pausing to sketch something out before turning the page. Once, then again and again and- :"Ow! Fuck me," he muttered, looking down at his hand and the fine, but deep, paper cut near the top of his pointer finger. Cuts were a miserable thing for Fin. They either bled very little and scabbed over in massive globs, or bled for ages, and took forever to heal. ... This one was definitely a bleeder, and he did his best to avoid dripping over everything as he rushed to the kitchen and turned on the tap.

"Sorry," he muttered as he gently pushed past someone and stuck his hand under the cold water.


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Finlay Alexander Flynn

April 2019

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