( camp ) [week 7] thursday night

[lovecolored]

[ Oh damn, it's getting close to curfew. The last thing Marisa wants is a repeat of no-alibi-night (well. the last thing she wants is to be supermurdered and coralified, actually). She puts her book and pen back in her trunk, leaving a tin of...something plant-y and liquid to sit out for the night on top of it, and starts heading out with the intent of going to the rec room.

Though she sees someone dawdling in the clearing, she takes a detour. ]

Hey, Lenka. Got any plans tonight?

Comments

[lovecolored]

[ One of these days she'll realize the gods she's used to dealing with are old ladies, despite them all looking 25 and under, and Sol is...decidedly not. That does make thinking about their situation easier when she thinks of them as literally a little kid.

But today's not that day, and she still looks confused about it. ]

So it was just somethin' you got used to. [ For a second, she looks a little sad. Getting used to the total eradication of plant life doesn't sound like something she could handle, with how much she likes the forest. ]

Say, s'that why you've been gardenin', here? [ Is Lenka mourning the plants back home... ] They're nice, by the way. The stuff you put around the cabin.