The chance of avoiding a meeting with Sister Imperator and Papa Nihil because a wayward tourist got lost was too good to pass up. Copia always hated talking business when he would much rather be out doing live rituals or practicing while home at the >
< perfume of the many flowers that called the Ministry's garden home teasingly lured him forward until the low bubble of its fountain could be heard. In the past, he took breaks from the archives out here, but he was just as glad to be sharing such a >
@amorperpetua ㅤ
ㅤㅤ٠· ⛧ㅤㅤhttps://t.co/eTkUmMyU3A
hi. i just saw this floating by on the timeline. i joined the ghostrp fandom a few days ago, and most of the accounts i've found are on hiatus or inactive, unfortunately.
you're not alone on the hunt for mutuals!
@crimsonbayous ㅤ
ㅤㅤ٠· ⛧ㅤㅤhttps://t.co/eTkUmMyU3A
mmhm, same here. i generally prefer someone being direct, but everyone's different. sometimes it really is hard/impossible to read tone via text.
ㅤ
ㅤㅤ٠· ⛧ㅤㅤhttps://t.co/eTkUmMyU3A⠀
anyone else ever worry about coming off rude, but that wasn't your intent at all? or does being direct automatically = rudeness?
Lowering his hand from his chest, he waved off the apology. Though Copia had truly been startled, he wasn't mad about the sudden intrusion, but then Crowley said something that made his mismatched eyes widen: speculating, wondering, imagining.
An offer >
< had been made. Though he didn't believe penance was owed . . . he was too curious for his own good.
"And just how would you do that?" Copia dared to ask, rounding his desk to lean against it. "How would you make it up to me?" >
< scaring me. Are . . . eh, all demons above knocking?”
The Ghouls certainly thought they were more often than not, so could the same be said about the rest? It was hard to say, but he intended to find out.
At the sound of another voice echoing through his office, he whipped around to find the source.
There stood Crowley.
“Dear God!” Copia exclaimed, hand laid over his heart like the poor organ tried to beat free from his ribs. “You’ve gotta fucking stop >
< private tour, he hummed in thought. "I may . . . um, have a few minutes to spare," Copia casually teased, leaning a hand against the wall as he watched her fiddle with her blonde locks. "Would you like that?"
Skipping a meeting had its perks.
Respectfully . . . nosey. Was there such a thing? Copia wasn't quite sure those two words belonged in the same sentence. Syntax and grammar aside? It was terribly funny and earned Charlotte a quiet laugh from him. The tours were terribly dull, but there >
< was only so much the Ministry could show to the public. To them, the Ghouls were just musicians, and by the same token, he was merely a clerically inclined frontman.
Oh, how wrong they all were.
Then, when she spoke up and asked if he would give her a >