John Allerdyce (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
om_pyro) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
om_communications2014-07-18 03:05 pm
om_pyro) wrote in om_communications2014-07-18 03:05 pm
Entry tags:
Letter for Bigby, Friday afternoon
Left under Bigby's door in an envelope marked with his name: two sheets of plain white printer paper, the first a hand-written note, the second a print out of some purple prose...
[Page One:]
Bigby,
I promised you my best story yet, so I tried to write one about a wolf shifter. I was going to make someone like you (but not you) the hero. This is as far as I got. It started getting a bit weird on me, but--well, I think it speaks for itself.
[Signed] Johnny
PS: It's not my best work and it sort of ends in the middle of a thought, sorry about that, but I don't think I can work on it anymore. It's all very frustrating.
[Page Two:]
It was a face that didn't smile often. Young, with flawless, dark olive skin and high cheekbones, the hard line of the jaw trailing into a slightly squared off chin. The kind that might've been carved during the renaissance and set up as a paragon of beauty in some Medici palace. That might've been all right, if not for the large eyes: a bottomless shade of smoke-over-turquoise that contrasted brilliantly with curly, dark hair, so soft-looking it begged to be touched. No smile lines, not around the eyes, not around the mouth. Maybe that was why Charlie was so desperate to make him smile.
That wasn't all he was desperate for, though. Every time the handsome stranger came into the bar, it was in some kind of tight t-shirt that made Charlie's knees weak...
[Page One:]
Bigby,
I promised you my best story yet, so I tried to write one about a wolf shifter. I was going to make someone like you (but not you) the hero. This is as far as I got. It started getting a bit weird on me, but--well, I think it speaks for itself.
[Signed] Johnny
PS: It's not my best work and it sort of ends in the middle of a thought, sorry about that, but I don't think I can work on it anymore. It's all very frustrating.
[Page Two:]
It was a face that didn't smile often. Young, with flawless, dark olive skin and high cheekbones, the hard line of the jaw trailing into a slightly squared off chin. The kind that might've been carved during the renaissance and set up as a paragon of beauty in some Medici palace. That might've been all right, if not for the large eyes: a bottomless shade of smoke-over-turquoise that contrasted brilliantly with curly, dark hair, so soft-looking it begged to be touched. No smile lines, not around the eyes, not around the mouth. Maybe that was why Charlie was so desperate to make him smile.
That wasn't all he was desperate for, though. Every time the handsome stranger came into the bar, it was in some kind of tight t-shirt that made Charlie's knees weak...