Madigan. (
griffonix) wrote in
nightaftersidewalk2013-01-13 08:26 pm
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Entry tags:
In which there is punching.
[ Just an average Saturday night at the Griffonix. Of course that means it's fairly busy, but not unmanageable. There's a nice, relaxed atmosphere, and most patrons are familiar enough with the place that if they do have to wait, they don't mind it. People are making conversation over the music, and Madigan herself is behind the bar.
The bar is fairly busy as well, but she's got a good handle on things. Not that she isn't grateful for a sudden lull. It gives her a chance to catch her breath. ]
The bar is fairly busy as well, but she's got a good handle on things. Not that she isn't grateful for a sudden lull. It gives her a chance to catch her breath. ]
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[Well, at least she can walk]
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Mel takes a moment to tease Mads, though. "I saw the way you were looking at her~! Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" But Madigan waves her off and heads up to her apartment. ]
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But at her feet, Amelia magicked up a vase of bright colored flowers as if to say, "Welcome home."]
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[ She kicks off her heels and moves to the couch. No reason Amelia should sleep there when the bed is much more comfortable, and more than large enough for the both of them. It takes some figuring, but she manages to scoop her friend up, bridal style, and carry her towards the bedroom. ]
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Good night, dearest.
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Night.
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That's Amelia's first thought when she wakes up and feels her hangover and her still kind of hurt nose. She didn't punch herself that hard, thankfully, but still. She stares at the ceiling blinking sleepily after glancing at Madigan.]
... Ow.
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You don't remember the poetry?
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[There's a pause and she still stares at the ceiling as she rests the back of her palm on her forehead.]
One shade more, one ray less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling place.
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So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent.
[ And if it seems like Madigan is toying with Amelia's hair as she finishes off the poem, well, it's only because she is. ]
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Huh. Should've known.
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[Kind of gestures as she says that sentences with her arms]
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... Or more specifically, if you think there could be an us.
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Can I ask you something?
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And for once it wasn't about how Amelia thought she didn't deserve this. Rather she was thinking about what Madigan wanted.
As for herself?]
Could we go steady?
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