[UNMODERATED - player memory] [CRITERIA: Minimum 9 Replies] [RESERVED: Tony, Felicity, Merlin, if available]
A hill covered in browned grass, atop which sits an old gnarled tree, lush with leaves. It's clearly summer, in the middle of the day - the sun is high and the dry heat isn't quite oppressive, but it is strong. Humming drifts down the hill. Draped across a root, likely uncomfortably and definitely precariously, is Pax, wearing a daisy-chain crown as she tries to coax a shining beetle, crawling up the tree trunk onto her finger. A small bag sits next to her, an empty container that had her lunch in it inside, as well as a few uneaten apples, polished shiny, a strange purplish red that almost looks unnatural. A few bottles of water are also in the bag, along with some grapes. A broom lies an arm's length away from Pax, old and well-loved, along with a beater bat and a few baseballs. A bird in the tree whistles out notes occasionally, flitting from branch to branch.
A warm breeze blows, rustling the dry grass, and Pax manages to get the bug to climb onto her finger. She smiles triumphantly as everything goes still. The soft, dreamy quality remains though, and everything seems pliable and easy to move even once it's frozen.
MEMORY: Reclined
[CRITERIA: Minimum 9 Replies]
[RESERVED: Tony, Felicity, Merlin, if available]
A hill covered in browned grass, atop which sits an old gnarled tree, lush with leaves. It's clearly summer, in the middle of the day - the sun is high and the dry heat isn't quite oppressive, but it is strong. Humming drifts down the hill. Draped across a root, likely uncomfortably and definitely precariously, is Pax, wearing a daisy-chain crown as she tries to coax a shining beetle, crawling up the tree trunk onto her finger. A small bag sits next to her, an empty container that had her lunch in it inside, as well as a few uneaten apples, polished shiny, a strange purplish red that almost looks unnatural. A few bottles of water are also in the bag, along with some grapes. A broom lies an arm's length away from Pax, old and well-loved, along with a beater bat and a few baseballs. A bird in the tree whistles out notes occasionally, flitting from branch to branch.
A warm breeze blows, rustling the dry grass, and Pax manages to get the bug to climb onto her finger. She smiles triumphantly as everything goes still. The soft, dreamy quality remains though, and everything seems pliable and easy to move even once it's frozen.