Aaron Barnett (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
exuviiated) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
hfm_logs2015-12-01 04:49 pm
exuviiated) wrote in hfm_logs2015-12-01 04:49 pm
Entry tags:
[open] cleaning day
Warnings: Uh, this thread aims to be pretty clean.
Location: 37847.
Characters: Aaron and whoever wanders in.
When: September 21, afternoon.
Summary: Cleaning day shenanigans and meeting new (or old) people.
After a while, his place in the slums really did start to feel like home. He'd had to fix some stuff up-- plumbing and electricity, water and the general cleanliness of the place. It cleaned up nice, even though the stove only sometimes worked and the refrigerator tended to freeze things instead of just keep them cold.
It was good, and it was his, and that's what mattered.
And so, starting from noon, he was doing a weekly check-up of the place-- sweeping, wiping down any surface that might collect dust, rearranging books in the rickety old bookshelf he'd picked out at the flea market. Though he'd never admit on pain of death,maybe dancing with the broom a little too to the oddly familiar music streaming from the radio perched in the corner. In lieu of having something productive (like school, which he was so rudely ripped from) to do, he turned to housework. Typical. He'd actually taken to doing odd jobs to get enough money to buy things to spruce the place up, like the aforementioned bookshelf-- and a kitchen table, a few chairs, and a desk.
The fern and its clay pot propped open the door to help air the building out, and also so that anybody-- fleeing the Nox, in need of some healing magic, or maybe just a conversation partner-- could come inside.
Location: 37847.
Characters: Aaron and whoever wanders in.
When: September 21, afternoon.
Summary: Cleaning day shenanigans and meeting new (or old) people.
After a while, his place in the slums really did start to feel like home. He'd had to fix some stuff up-- plumbing and electricity, water and the general cleanliness of the place. It cleaned up nice, even though the stove only sometimes worked and the refrigerator tended to freeze things instead of just keep them cold.
It was good, and it was his, and that's what mattered.
And so, starting from noon, he was doing a weekly check-up of the place-- sweeping, wiping down any surface that might collect dust, rearranging books in the rickety old bookshelf he'd picked out at the flea market. Though he'd never admit on pain of death,maybe dancing with the broom a little too to the oddly familiar music streaming from the radio perched in the corner. In lieu of having something productive (like school, which he was so rudely ripped from) to do, he turned to housework. Typical. He'd actually taken to doing odd jobs to get enough money to buy things to spruce the place up, like the aforementioned bookshelf-- and a kitchen table, a few chairs, and a desk.
The fern and its clay pot propped open the door to help air the building out, and also so that anybody-- fleeing the Nox, in need of some healing magic, or maybe just a conversation partner-- could come inside.