P
*~Pixie Harrison~*
Guest
Original poster
OPEN TO ALL.
~Try to avoid one liners
~Relationships and romance are fine as long as the characters are over 16.
~Max age is 25.
A few years ago, this house would have gone unnoticed, more than it does now, with no one to tend to it. The walls paint used to peel in every room, the carpets were torn up, out, and dirtied. The kitchen- though back then, it was barely suited to be called a kitchen. The various rooms were flithy, stained, and ruined. But that was years ago.
Now, the rooms were clean, furnished, and livable. The kitchen was stocked and warm. Carpets were cleaned and fluffy white. The walls, the occupients of the house would paint them over and over again, tagging names, relationships, and random song lyrics, various portaits lined the walls so it's not like the house needed store bough art work to decorate the place.
What happened? Who cleaned the place? No one knows, but the first to come to seek shelter, Faye Logan the then 16 year old- now 18 and the longest resident of the home, took care of travelers and wanders who found their way in. The outside world left them alone, no one with a home of their own paid mind to the "abandoned" house on the corner of Walson and Crane.
Everyone comes in with nothing but the clothes on their back, they come in with their own story, and talents. But the house welcomes them none-the-less. Faye would like to say she picks who comes and stays and who leaves, but the house itself decides who's welcome and who isn't. Faye doesn't question it.
Faye groaned loudly as she rolled off her bed, and padded down the stairs as someone knocked on the front door. It was roughly two in the morning, give or take a few minutes, and the house's floor boards creaked quietly as a sort of good morning to currently the only resident in the house. Faye'd been alone in the house for a couple weeks now, but she didn't mind.
She tugged open the door and rubbed her eyes, her electric blue hair in a messy bun at the top of her head. She leaned against the door groggily. "Ya need somethin'?" She asked, voice heavy with sleep.
~Try to avoid one liners
~Relationships and romance are fine as long as the characters are over 16.
~Max age is 25.
A few years ago, this house would have gone unnoticed, more than it does now, with no one to tend to it. The walls paint used to peel in every room, the carpets were torn up, out, and dirtied. The kitchen- though back then, it was barely suited to be called a kitchen. The various rooms were flithy, stained, and ruined. But that was years ago.
Now, the rooms were clean, furnished, and livable. The kitchen was stocked and warm. Carpets were cleaned and fluffy white. The walls, the occupients of the house would paint them over and over again, tagging names, relationships, and random song lyrics, various portaits lined the walls so it's not like the house needed store bough art work to decorate the place.
What happened? Who cleaned the place? No one knows, but the first to come to seek shelter, Faye Logan the then 16 year old- now 18 and the longest resident of the home, took care of travelers and wanders who found their way in. The outside world left them alone, no one with a home of their own paid mind to the "abandoned" house on the corner of Walson and Crane.
Everyone comes in with nothing but the clothes on their back, they come in with their own story, and talents. But the house welcomes them none-the-less. Faye would like to say she picks who comes and stays and who leaves, but the house itself decides who's welcome and who isn't. Faye doesn't question it.
Faye groaned loudly as she rolled off her bed, and padded down the stairs as someone knocked on the front door. It was roughly two in the morning, give or take a few minutes, and the house's floor boards creaked quietly as a sort of good morning to currently the only resident in the house. Faye'd been alone in the house for a couple weeks now, but she didn't mind.
She tugged open the door and rubbed her eyes, her electric blue hair in a messy bun at the top of her head. She leaned against the door groggily. "Ya need somethin'?" She asked, voice heavy with sleep.