warning: atmosphere descriptions to rival goddamn Tolkien
Aesthetics Are Important
This gave me the perfect cover. Carefully cradling my cast, I staggered onto my feet. The bed bounced back, slightly, with a very soft spring. Surely I wasn't that heavy? Or perhaps the bed was too fragile for my bulging muscles. In any case, it hadn't been too difficult to shuffle to the foot of the bed, though I could've done without the mocking rustles of the bark chips on the floor.
The room was gradually filling with inky shade and a nightly breeze gently swayed my dark hair into my mouth. If the glade had one thing going for it, it was atmospheric as fuck. Even the ancient candles were beginning to have some effect - the orange light spilling into the air, creating a hazy halo around the swiftly dying flickers. I almost blended in, the grey darkening with the sky, the navy melting away into the shadows, my hair blurring my pale face behind a veil of brown. The only thing giving me away was my spotty, pasty-as-fuck skin. There wasn't much I could do about that.
If there was one thing I missed about my home, it was the fucking streetlamps. Candles were pretty, sure, but when the hell was I ever gonna carry a candle like a rebellious 1950s child sneaking out for a midnight snack of kippers and condensed milk? Never. I had to deal with it for now. Outside was a wall of black occasionally interrupted by a tree or the glow of a distant bonfire. It's a bit hard to see where you're going when everything looks like my Aunt Lucy's 'modern' kitchen.
Even the wind was more bitter than I could've expected and I lived in the land of rain. Well, I had lived. The sharpness of the fake wind carved into my cheeks as I trudged over to the soft orange blaze to my right. The flannel shirt I had chucked on this morning was definitely not enough and I shivered, pulling it tighter around my body.
"What's the girl doing here?" I heard Minho bellow, not intentionally loud enough for me to hear, but then again he was probably a little smashed from 'Gally's special brew'. We'd all seen through that, guys. Subtle.
"I'm here to answer your buddin' questions!" I shouted back. They turned to look at the girl hobbling towards them, frail and ghostly with a shit-eating grin radiating through her chattering teeth.
Author's Note: ok, I'm not dead. Obviously. Been slightly busy in a) a different country and b) pretending to revise for exams I have next week. To be fair, it's only been 2 weeks and not the 3 month hiatus I've accidentally been on for my other ongoing fic. I swear I'll do some writing at some point, just... yeah. Okay, so what's going on in this chapter? Well, Bea's decided that the guys can't get enough of her bullshit, so ambles over for a fireside chat with a bunch of drunks. Can't see this going badly at all, I mean look how well the last interview went. I suppose you'll find out next week (if I post, that is), but in the meantime, have a great day, week month and year :)
(especially if you read through all of that drivel)