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Aug. 16th, 2005 08:10 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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neutral_omensDate: August 16, 1999
Status: COMPLETE Wensleydale
Setting: Tadfield Manor, Lobby
Summary: Wensleydale (finally) shows up.
It hadn’t taken very long to pack the important things still in his possession: pictures, clothing, books. The rest hadn’t even been fit to take to charity, and had to be thrown out. It was ridiculous, feeling so attached to common household appliances that didn’t even work properly, but he couldn’t help it. Ah well. No use looking back now; besides, you know you’re beyond help when you go crawling through the bin to find rusted pots and pans, and Wensleydale liked to believe he was anything but hopeless.
What everyone else thought rarely ever occurred to him.
The taxi had deposited him rather unceremoniously at the end of the long drive that lead through the gardens to the manor, no doubt disgruntled when Wensley admitted he didn’t have sufficient enough funds to tip him. Ah well. He’d left after his trunk was taken out, that was something. And he did need the exercise.
Thirty minutes and five near-death experiences later, he had made it to the lobby. Wheezing pathetically, he sat in front of the Front Desk, hoping in vain that Sister Mary would be coming soon, unknowing of the suffering going on so close by.
Status: COMPLETE Wensleydale
Setting: Tadfield Manor, Lobby
Summary: Wensleydale (finally) shows up.
It hadn’t taken very long to pack the important things still in his possession: pictures, clothing, books. The rest hadn’t even been fit to take to charity, and had to be thrown out. It was ridiculous, feeling so attached to common household appliances that didn’t even work properly, but he couldn’t help it. Ah well. No use looking back now; besides, you know you’re beyond help when you go crawling through the bin to find rusted pots and pans, and Wensleydale liked to believe he was anything but hopeless.
What everyone else thought rarely ever occurred to him.
The taxi had deposited him rather unceremoniously at the end of the long drive that lead through the gardens to the manor, no doubt disgruntled when Wensley admitted he didn’t have sufficient enough funds to tip him. Ah well. He’d left after his trunk was taken out, that was something. And he did need the exercise.
Thirty minutes and five near-death experiences later, he had made it to the lobby. Wheezing pathetically, he sat in front of the Front Desk, hoping in vain that Sister Mary would be coming soon, unknowing of the suffering going on so close by.
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