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Reaper ([personal profile] no_reload) wrote in [community profile] realmofstories 2020-11-27 03:17 am (UTC)

[Reaper roosted, but he didn't sleep much. He hadn't in a very long time, and this was no exception. Much like 76, he generally kept to himself and hidden away. He wasn't much for conversation at this point in time, unless one counted shouting at a run away house on occasion.

Once most people were asleep, he tended to lurk the hallways to burn off energy, gliding silently along the floors. He disliked communal kitchens as much as he had learned to dislike communal bathrooms.

Normally, he would avoid them until he was completely desperate. This time there was a familiar set of smells that alerted him that 76 was likely around and making some of those old famous flapjacks. It wasn't a terrible memory, he supposed, but he also hated nostalgia like everything else too.

He eased into the kitchen doorway and watched 76 work, arms crossed over his chest.]


Still making those until the day you die.

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