Éponine Thénardier (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
filleauloup) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fandomtownies2019-07-08 11:50 pm
filleauloup) wrote in fandomtownies2019-07-08 11:50 pm
Entry tags:
Fandom Post Office, July 9 (Tuesday, Daytime)
Right then. Éponine was even less fond of this week than she had been of the one before, or the one two weeks before that, or -- well, suffice to say this was her least favorite week of the summer so far.
It was a good thing, really, that she'd taken that airhorn last night as a cue to get home.
But now she'd come in trailing ashes behind her, having had to trudge through quite a few drifts of them getting to the post office from home, and after twenty minutes or so of trying to sweep it all out the door she gave up on that as a lost cause. No point, really, when she'd only be doing it all over again every time she came back in from making deliveries.
She didn't like this. She didn't like any of it, and it all had her feeling a bit more lost and beleaguered than she had been since -- good lord, since shortly after arriving here several years ago. So while she was going about her usual routine of sorting mail, making deliveries, restocking the mailing supplies, and working the front counter, she was doing it all with a slightly more unfocused and distracted air than usual. And perhaps humming to herself a little louder than she typically did.
Every now and then one of the mailboxes would open of its own accord, but rather than a small swarm of butterflies or anything else silly and whimsical, a small cloud of ashes would come puffing out before the mailbox door shut itself again.
Perhaps it might be a good idea to get away for a few days -- but then again, it didn't look any more promising on the other side of the causeway, now, did it?
[OOC: Post/post office are open! Usual SP disclaimer applies.]
It was a good thing, really, that she'd taken that airhorn last night as a cue to get home.
But now she'd come in trailing ashes behind her, having had to trudge through quite a few drifts of them getting to the post office from home, and after twenty minutes or so of trying to sweep it all out the door she gave up on that as a lost cause. No point, really, when she'd only be doing it all over again every time she came back in from making deliveries.
She didn't like this. She didn't like any of it, and it all had her feeling a bit more lost and beleaguered than she had been since -- good lord, since shortly after arriving here several years ago. So while she was going about her usual routine of sorting mail, making deliveries, restocking the mailing supplies, and working the front counter, she was doing it all with a slightly more unfocused and distracted air than usual. And perhaps humming to herself a little louder than she typically did.
Every now and then one of the mailboxes would open of its own accord, but rather than a small swarm of butterflies or anything else silly and whimsical, a small cloud of ashes would come puffing out before the mailbox door shut itself again.
Perhaps it might be a good idea to get away for a few days -- but then again, it didn't look any more promising on the other side of the causeway, now, did it?
[OOC: Post/post office are open! Usual SP disclaimer applies.]