The Morbid Socialite had dressed in fine yet practical attire, his gladstone bag containing supplies, tools, and notes and, in his other hand, sat a small cake as a gift of gratitude for inviting him. He pulled his watch from his pocket, more as a force of habit than as anything reliable to tell the time. The soft ticking and the weight was a reassurance.
They sighed and finally knocked on the front door, taking a moment to look over the house's facade. What a beautiful structure! He hummed a gentle tune from the musical they'd watched recently and shook their head of it. Far too catchy for as distasteful as the show had been. A blasphemy against Stoker's masterpiece and an affront to all theatre-
No, Mori, relax. No thinking about terrible art. Not when there's studying to be done! And so, he waited.
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branchandroot
A Morbid Appointment
Date: 2025-07-06 12:10 am (UTC)They sighed and finally knocked on the front door, taking a moment to look over the house's facade. What a beautiful structure! He hummed a gentle tune from the musical they'd watched recently and shook their head of it. Far too catchy for as distasteful as the show had been. A blasphemy against Stoker's masterpiece and an affront to all theatre-
No, Mori, relax. No thinking about terrible art. Not when there's studying to be done! And so, he waited.