sadfreezingbrit_archive

( [ THE STORY ] )

[ ...And then it's four days later and Philip seems perfectly fine. Well. "Philip" does at any rate. He still looks a bit gaunt, but that's nothing another night's sleep, a healthy meal and some more water won't fix. ]

[ LOCKED FROM EVELYN ]

[ Right now he's enjoying a good book and a cup of tea in the library, but most of all he's really, really enjoying himself right now. ]

So which side won, anyway? [ He laughs. ] Because I'd, er... really hate to have died if nobody even kept score.

[ He raises his cup and toasts into the camera. ]

[ PRIVATE TO EVELYN ]

[ And now? Time to turn that smile upside down. He ends the transmission and takes a deep breath, making sure to leave no trace of cheer when he makes the next call: ]

Evie, um... remember the next- the dinner and the movie we talked about? And then we didn't get to it, because-- Anyway, I... I thought if you're... if you've got time this evening, I'd... I'd love to catch up.


[[OOC: Oh look, it's an early Christmas present: A Clarence! Long story short, Philip felt miserable and the virus took over. Feel free to talk to him or even approach him, he won't actually bite or stab or otherwise maim. This time. Probably.]]

[ It's been almost a week since ex-mafia!Philip had a very unfortunate event run-in with still-mafia!Dean. The result? His previous Wonderland lives are still intact, but he's down one eye and his arm isn't doing so well either. And that's the understatement of the day.

So. It's been almost a week. Hardly enough time to heal all wounds (or any of them for that matter), but time enough for Philip to get over the worst and out of his room. Or try to, in any case.

Right now (now being 11 in the morning) he's standing in the kitchen, arduously slaving over his attempt at late breakfast. The injury to his right shoulder is difficult to hide, what with his arm in a sling. But at least his left eye (or lack thereof) is cleverly concealed behind a pair of sunglasses.

To reiterate: Kitchen. Breakfast. 11 o'clock. Right arm in sling. Ridiculous Fashionable sunglasses. Shattered glass.

...Shattered glass? ]

Jesus, not again.

[ Stepping aside Philip looks at the mess. After six days improvements are coming along at last, but missteps (or misgrabs, as it were) still happen all too often. Oh depth perception, he never knew how much he loved you until you were gone.

And yet the milk keeps dripping on the floor; cold, cruel and undeterred by his struggles and frustrations.

To continue: Paper towels. Broom. Scoop. New try. Deep sigh. ]

[ This looks like it's going to be a very boring video feed. An empty (though hardly unfurnished, mind!) room with an open window, its only exciting feature being the set of drapes only somebody more familiar with Philip's room would recognise as new.

Sure, there's a life-sized mannequin sitting on the bed while holding a potted plant in its hands, but--

Wait. Back up.

Life-sized mannequin. Female. Brown skirt, beige blouse. Dark brown hair in a French braid (It used to be much lighter and greying, but for its owner that simply wouldn't do. There is never anything wrong with looking your best). It looks old for your average display dummy, but early 60s are hard to mimic in plastic.

And then the strange still life takes a turn for the really strange when the mannequin gets up and carefully places the potted plant on a desk. Then it turns around and stiffly walks towards the closet, opening it with jagged movements.

It drags another, bigger plant out into the open and slowly begins moving it to the other side of the room.

As it does this the feed scrambles a little and is briefly interrupted by what looks like a man sitting at a kitchen table with his head in his hands. ]

--still up there.

[ Then the semi-static ceases and both video and audio return to the silence of the room where the mannequin woman is now sitting on a chair, checking her watch impatiently. ]

[[OOC: So just to clarify, Philip is sitting in the kitchen and will probably respond to audio or video with his personal communicator, though you're welcome to "talk" to the mannequin in his room as well or go for a kitchen action tag.]]