[ there is a tiny woman sitting on the steps of this adorable though currently much more run down house. if one were to guess, it wouldn't be unreasonable to assume that a third of her total body weight is probably in the long, thick fishtail braid trailing over one shoulder, the rest anchored down by the impressive amount of gravity it must take to sustain the powerful lineface she's got going. a small blue ring flickers at her temple, occasionally dipping to yellow and cycling back again.
no one here will be as obnoxious as to tell her to smile, surely, but if they did, she would stab them.
that's purely hypothetical, however, and we are here to deal with reality! in reality, where no one is being stabbed, north and her braid and her line face are joined on the porch by a large stack of canned goods, ones that have been lined up and organized with such precision one might imagine a machine did it, along with a battered camping cooler full of perishables.
a sign sits near her feet, one declaring said goods to be FREE in the absolute most perfect penmanship anyone has ever seen.
please. please take them. north will just use the cans as projectiles. ]
ii. actually at the thing
[ wildcard me! let's get creative and see if together we can come up with a prompt where north is neither sunbathing, swimming, eating, drinking, nor socializing.
north | ota
[ there is a tiny woman sitting on the steps of this adorable though currently much more run down house. if one were to guess, it wouldn't be unreasonable to assume that a third of her total body weight is probably in the long, thick fishtail braid trailing over one shoulder, the rest anchored down by the impressive amount of gravity it must take to sustain the powerful lineface she's got going. a small blue ring flickers at her temple, occasionally dipping to yellow and cycling back again.
no one here will be as obnoxious as to tell her to smile, surely, but if they did, she would stab them.
that's purely hypothetical, however, and we are here to deal with reality! in reality, where no one is being stabbed, north and her braid and her line face are joined on the porch by a large stack of canned goods, ones that have been lined up and organized with such precision one might imagine a machine did it, along with a battered camping cooler full of perishables.
a sign sits near her feet, one declaring said goods to be FREE in the absolute most perfect penmanship anyone has ever seen.
please. please take them. north will just use the cans as projectiles. ]
ii. actually at the thing
[ wildcard me! let's get creative and see if together we can come up with a prompt where north is neither sunbathing, swimming, eating, drinking, nor socializing.
she is, however, definitely scowling. ]