66 is a rite of passage

[theoniongirl]

[written] January 11

[there's no year. What purpose did years have in a place that mixed and matched them at will? But the date was important. Somehow it seemed more so, with the journals empty. Like starting over, though her old journal sat next to her on the table, a reminder.

Pencil still in hand, she switches to speaking, musing as much to herself as to the castle at large]

Sometimes it feels like everything is made up of chapters in a book. They're all connected, but each one is something...new.

I've been here two years now, today. I'm still not sure if it feels like a long time or barely a breath...and now the castle seems to want a fresh start.

[she smiles, and it's evident in her voice as she starts to doodle a little twig man in the margin...her first sketch in the new book] I wonder how this chapter will go?

[OOC: As I'm not sure when I will be unable to comment here any longer, threads have been set up here for anyone who wants to continue them]

Comments

[sexyhitchhiker]

Then the castle is something of a drunken, insane author.

[little twig dude gets a small tree]

[theoniongirl]

[she laughs] According to Aziraphale, there's a lot of those.

[sexyhitchhiker]

That's the weird British guy, right?

[theoniongirl]

[amused] He owns the bookshop in town.

[she won't correct the British thing. She's not sure if Aziraphale cares if people know he's an angel or not...not that he or Crowley are particularly secretive about it]

[sexyhitchhiker]

[yeah, she only met him once in passing]

The one that's never open? [or open at weird times]

[theoniongirl]

That'd be the one. He's...a bit overprotective when it comes to his books.