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[tendtoenunciate]

This Is Kanaya Maryams Livejournal
Or It Was But Then It Transformed Into A Dreamwidth When I Wasnt Looking
Im Still Not Entirely Clear On How That Happened

I Have Taken The Courtesy Of Not Speaking In My Blood Color Or The Standard Font To Display Cultural Sensitivity
Though If You Want To Converse In The Fashion To Which I Am Most Accustomed That Would Be Fine
If You Would Like Me Not To Represent My Enunciation Textually That Would Also Be Acceptable Though I Would Prefer Not To All Things Being Equal
It Causes Me Moderate Strain

Anonymous Commenting Is Enabled For The Use Of Anyone Unable To Register An Account Here

They Arent Screened Because That Would Be Somewhat Troublesome For Actually Conducting Conversations With Anonymous Browsers
But The Logging Of Addresses Following The Four-Point Specifications Of This Grubnet Is Off As Well
So I Hope You Are At Comfort

My Profile Contains The Means Of Connecting To Trollian With Me If Desired
Thats All

Comments

[wwrathofangels]

He smooths a hand down the fabric covering his chest, face revealing his skepticism that his appearance could possibly warrant that sort of reaction. He's certain he looks like a boy in a dress; a sorry, platonically pathetic excuse for a girl, at best. Still, with a sigh, he turns neatly, pivoting on his heel before striding over to the various cubbies and drawers that seem to contain just about everything they could want.

And there, in the third drawer, is a rather large hand mirror.

"Oh fuck..." Yeah, that's appreciative. "Kan this looks like a million boondollars not evven goin' to try to lie to you."

She should probably take the mirror away before he starts primping and preening.

..."troll dollars in a troll Swiss bank account": Why Lenga should not tag at 3 in the morning

[tendtoenunciate]

That is precisely what she does --because any kind of additional preening per se she finds unmerited. What she sees is not even an excuse for a girl of any kind, nothing but a boy in a dress --it's staring them both in the cephalic surface. His hair. His makeup. His glasses. He has such a long way to go and, honestly, that way isn't one she has any particular care to see him travel. Her impression is nothing motivated by the aesthetics of his own appearance at all; very selfish in its nature, really. Rather, the sight before her, she's sure, is the key to the alien she loves' affections. Well. Romantically hates, strictly speaking, but that's terminology to work out when she is actually around.

"A thousand boonbonds safe and secure in a troll Swiss financial depository" she confirms as she puts the mirror away again. "Outside of maybe a deeper driving force for our date given the current lack of film being available, I think everything's been accounted for." It's not as if, after all, there's going to be a party or anything. (Time shit sure is weird.)