| Tent City Tourist (Closed to Theresa and Rahne) |
[21 May 2005|09:32am] |
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music |
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Flogging Molly - Drunken Lullabies |
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You know, hiding outside would be a damned fine way to avoid people, presuming two things: one, that said hiding place is'nt in plain sight; and two, that those being avoided have the common courtesy to leave you alone.
But the girls' tent is in plain sight, and Black Tom Cassidy has rightly been called many things, but courteous is not one. Thus, the lean irishman's swaggering steps carry him, slowly but surely, out to the refuge Terry and her friend have taken from the rest of the world. He's whistling to himself. It's been a good day...
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| Xavier Estate Grounds (Open) |
[31 Jan 2005|03:24pm] |
The lean, black haired man had hopped the wall without difficulty, and a leisurely stroll through scattered trees had brought the leather jacketed trespasser within sight of the mansion proper. Leaning against one tree, gnarled and twisted walking stick in hand, Black Tom Cassidy studied the many windows of the Xavier Institute.. looking for a bedroom window with some sort of greenery upon it's sill. Keen eyes narrowed in study, a smile tugs at the irishman's lips, when at last he spies such a window.
"That's m' girl.."
Dark eyes narrowed in concentration, a finger of fern slowly climbs the building's outer wall, until at last a soft knock taps at the spotted window. Though fern are non flowering plants, this particular specimen seems to be sportuing a vibrant orange blossom at it's center. Damned if he knows what he'll do should there be more than one plant lover in this New England looney bin...
"Come along Terry," Tom murmers to himself, "Don'nae be keepin' us waitin'."
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| In Absentia [Narrative] |
[25 Jan 2005|12:14am] |
| [ |
mood |
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 devious |
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Black Tom lay atop his prison bunk, fingers woven behind his head, and shod feet crossed at the ankles. As his mind ran over the coming evening's breakout yet again, his keen mind searching out any flaw or oversight, his dark eyes drifted over to the corner of his cramped cell, and the small fern the warden had allowed him to keep.
Standing slowly up, and crossing to the fern, Tom dips his fingers in a half filled plastic cup, calcified rings on the inside, and flicks a bit of moisture where the fern feels dry. It is a present after all, and it has to be healthy to make a good present.
"Don'nae worry lass.. I'll be back for ye." He repeated quietly to himself yet again, a smile curling his lips beneath his short beard. A few called in favors would arrange to have clothing, and some cash waiting for them once out. A low chuckle.. If these ignorant provincials had any idea just who it was they were holding, their security would be ten times tighter, and hundred times more numerous. But as soon as they'd allowed him a plant, Tom could barely keep from laughing aloud. This would be easy.
With nothing to do but wait for nightfall, Tom crossed back to his bunk, and stretched his lean frame out on his back. Weaving his fingers behind his head, Black Tom Cassidy silently reviews the coming prison break, searching out any flaw, and smiling tightly when yet again he finds none.
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