Post by monday meadow weekly on Mar 13, 2020 14:56:42 GMT -7
June 7, 2025
Monday had tried to make her bedroom in the penthouse feel as much like her bedroom at home as she could, grateful to be over seventeen and capable of modifying it through magic to be exactly how she wanted it.
Her bed, which was pushed to the wall farthest from the door and near the window, was low to the ground—one of those mid-century modern platform types—to prevent her from injuring herself. There was enough light through the window when the sun was out that it would have been really pleasant back home, but all it ever did in London was rain. She had put a set of white, sheer curtains up regardless, mostly for privacy and the rare occasion when it was actually sunny.
The wall behind her headboard was covered in clotheslines of photographs clipped into place, holding memories of mostly Ilvermorny and California. Her bed linens were red with a floral pattern, and the duvet hung loosely from the edge of the bed and onto the top of her school trunk, still not fully unpacked aside from a few books that she'd put in the nightstand beside her bed and a small radio that she had set on top of it.
Against the wall at the opposite the end of her bed was a dresser, which had been magically enlarged to hold her entire wardrobe, and a vanity with a mirror and stool just beside it. Monday had, at least, unpacked her cosmetics, including a variety of the all-natural products that her mother had sent her.
It was another night in for her, which was more usual than not because of all of the Hag’s Fever nonsense. It was beginning to stress her out, even though she was finally away from the castle and being in an environment where people were constantly sick even without an outbreak. In light of that, she had decided to use one of the face masks that she had, a purifying charcoal one that she desperately hoped wouldn’t get on her sheets while she read Witch Weekly and waited for it to firm up. No sooner had she gotten to the start of another article, however, when she heard what sounded like her name’s being called from out in the hall and footsteps nearing her door.
“Yeah?!” she hollered, putting a dog-ear in the magazine page so that she could find it again without checking for the page number. “I’m in my room!”
OOC: Whoever wants to take this, feel free!
Her bed, which was pushed to the wall farthest from the door and near the window, was low to the ground—one of those mid-century modern platform types—to prevent her from injuring herself. There was enough light through the window when the sun was out that it would have been really pleasant back home, but all it ever did in London was rain. She had put a set of white, sheer curtains up regardless, mostly for privacy and the rare occasion when it was actually sunny.
The wall behind her headboard was covered in clotheslines of photographs clipped into place, holding memories of mostly Ilvermorny and California. Her bed linens were red with a floral pattern, and the duvet hung loosely from the edge of the bed and onto the top of her school trunk, still not fully unpacked aside from a few books that she'd put in the nightstand beside her bed and a small radio that she had set on top of it.
Against the wall at the opposite the end of her bed was a dresser, which had been magically enlarged to hold her entire wardrobe, and a vanity with a mirror and stool just beside it. Monday had, at least, unpacked her cosmetics, including a variety of the all-natural products that her mother had sent her.
It was another night in for her, which was more usual than not because of all of the Hag’s Fever nonsense. It was beginning to stress her out, even though she was finally away from the castle and being in an environment where people were constantly sick even without an outbreak. In light of that, she had decided to use one of the face masks that she had, a purifying charcoal one that she desperately hoped wouldn’t get on her sheets while she read Witch Weekly and waited for it to firm up. No sooner had she gotten to the start of another article, however, when she heard what sounded like her name’s being called from out in the hall and footsteps nearing her door.
“Yeah?!” she hollered, putting a dog-ear in the magazine page so that she could find it again without checking for the page number. “I’m in my room!”
OOC: Whoever wants to take this, feel free!
