IC Inbox for Deer Country

[nothinglikea]

Hello, you've reached Rose Dawson. Please leave your message for me and I will get back to you.

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Comments

SHOCK AND AWE ACHIEVED!

[nothinglikea]

I suppose. I'm honestly more surprised that more people haven't figured out my incident than have. But 1912...I'd imagine that's barely in history books available to those here.

I didn't take the lives. At least, I didn't mean to. I tried to have my companion fit on the door along with me, but all we'd do was flip it over onto the other side. He didn't want me risking it on his behalf, so he stayed floating in the ocean next to me. But how could I miss the breath leaving his body? From his sleep turning from sleep into the final sleep? Those parts, I don't know. I don't remember much of what happened between him trying to get onto the Door and making me promise that I'd survive to the lifeboat returning for survivors. I know I sang. To try and comfort myself, but that's all.

I'm sure that if you hadn't have survived, you'd have left quite the hole in your absence. You'd already leave quite the hole in my life and we've just met, really. And I know others would feel the same.

Your sworn sister sounds interesting, especially if she's able to control the actions of other birds. And cowbirds are the assholes of the bird community. They look so much like ordinary blackbirds that sometimes it's hard to tell, but they don't sound much like blackbirds. I'd hope your sworn sister's wards thought to think of cowbirds, they may be an exclusively Earth phenomenon. But no. They don't really hide, not if you know what to look for.

Either! Sweet or from a flower or both! Personally, I'm very fond of sweet Jasmine tea.

And that certainly sounds like that type of person. My ex-fiancée was much the same. Something didn't go his way, he threw a tantrum over it, as though he was still a toddler and had been told he couldn't have his toy.

I suppose so, but mine is a golden canary calling herself Melody. Likely because I'd been a pretty bird in a golden cage for so long, much like canaries.

It's perfect! Were I the one being tattooed, I'd be thrilled! And, if one is locked up--no matter where or how--they have to find ways to take control of their own fates. For me, it meant studying everything about math and psychology as I could. For you, it was tattooing yourself. Both are admirable, especially yours given your talent. And cookies and pies are always a good trade. 😉

Tattoos of people sounds terribly difficult. It's hard enough to produce a portrait of someone in charcoal or oils on a canvas. Using a skin as a canvas sounds terribly complicated.

I don't bother with bullshit. Not anymore, not for the entire rest of my life if I have something to say about it. And here, I do! You're wonderful.