coyote_walking: (Coyote tattoo)
coyote_walking ([personal profile] coyote_walking) wrote2011-02-08 07:19 pm
Entry tags:

86 Howls: Accidental Video

Mercy's hard at work in the garage, only her feet visible from underneath the nearly completed VW Bug. There is the sound of metal on metal as she fiddles and adjusts, but over it all you hear her voice, talking to herself.

"Love can transpose to form and dignity:
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind;
And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind:
Nor hath Love's mind of any judgement taste;
Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste:
And therefore is Love said to be a child,
Because in choice he is so oft just totally lost.
As stupid boys in game themselves forswear,
So the boy Love is perjured every where:

... Oh, this is ridiculous. Why the hell do I keep speaking...? Damn."

And she's back to muttering under her breath about stupid City curses. Someone's been having dreams about a certain pair of werewolves back home.

[identity profile] cry-reaper.livejournal.com 2011-02-09 03:23 am (UTC)(link)
There's nothing wrong with Shakespeare, Mercy.

[identity profile] coyote-walking.livejournal.com 2011-02-09 01:40 pm (UTC)(link)
[Have a grumbly coyote girl]

I'm not even saying it right.

And it's not even that. I've been having stupid dreams.

[identity profile] cry-reaper.livejournal.com 2011-02-10 01:38 am (UTC)(link)
No one is. But that's alright, is still sounds nice.

What kind of dreams?

[identity profile] coyote-walking.livejournal.com 2011-02-10 01:39 am (UTC)(link)
Stupid werewolves from back home.

[identity profile] cry-reaper.livejournal.com 2011-02-10 01:41 am (UTC)(link)
That... doesn't sound very good.

[identity profile] coyote-walking.livejournal.com 2011-02-10 01:42 am (UTC)(link)
I... miss them.

And they're a huge pain in the ass.

[identity profile] coyote-walking.livejournal.com 2011-02-10 01:52 am (UTC)(link)
Eh. It is what it is.

How are you doing?

[identity profile] cry-reaper.livejournal.com 2011-02-10 01:54 am (UTC)(link)
Good. I'm happy. Ken got a promotion, but I think he likes it.

[identity profile] coyote-walking.livejournal.com 2011-02-10 01:55 am (UTC)(link)
I'm glad. Sounds like things are going well, then.

[identity profile] cry-reaper.livejournal.com 2011-02-10 01:57 am (UTC)(link)
Well enough that I'm almost starting to worry.

[private]

[identity profile] cry-reaper.livejournal.com - 2011-02-10 02:21 (UTC) - Expand

Re: [private]

[identity profile] cry-reaper.livejournal.com - 2011-02-10 02:29 (UTC) - Expand

Re: [private]

[identity profile] cry-reaper.livejournal.com - 2011-02-10 02:49 (UTC) - Expand

Re: [private]

[identity profile] cry-reaper.livejournal.com - 2011-02-10 02:56 (UTC) - Expand

Re: [private]

[identity profile] cry-reaper.livejournal.com - 2011-02-10 03:01 (UTC) - Expand

Re: [private]

[identity profile] cry-reaper.livejournal.com - 2011-02-10 03:07 (UTC) - Expand

Re: [private]

[identity profile] cry-reaper.livejournal.com - 2011-02-10 03:20 (UTC) - Expand

Re: [private]

[identity profile] cry-reaper.livejournal.com - 2011-02-10 03:36 (UTC) - Expand

Re: [private]

[identity profile] cry-reaper.livejournal.com - 2011-02-10 03:42 (UTC) - Expand

Re: [private]

[identity profile] cry-reaper.livejournal.com - 2011-02-10 04:06 (UTC) - Expand

[identity profile] bloodcakedarmor.livejournal.com 2011-02-09 05:14 pm (UTC)(link)
The bard's everywhere today.

[identity profile] coyote-walking.livejournal.com 2011-02-09 05:36 pm (UTC)(link)
[Have a grumbly coyote girl. You can talk to her feet 'cause she's right in the middle of reattaching something and she's not coming out till she's sure it won't fall right back off.]

Stupid Shakespeare.

[identity profile] bloodcakedarmor.livejournal.com 2011-02-09 05:49 pm (UTC)(link)
[He smirks.]

He's not so bad. I mean he understood people and relationships and the human psych. Most of his plays are entertaining enough. Not that I'm a huge reader but you really can't get through any kind of education without knowing a little Shakespeare.

[identity profile] coyote-walking.livejournal.com 2011-02-09 06:18 pm (UTC)(link)
[There's a little mumbling with possibly a grumbly comment about men always sticking up for each other coming from underneath the car.]

Still don't want to be quoting him. Badly.

[identity profile] bloodcakedarmor.livejournal.com 2011-02-09 06:41 pm (UTC)(link)
Think it's a curse. So probably the only way to not do it is to gag yourself... which I should've thought of when I was cursed with that listing everything curse.

[identity profile] coyote-walking.livejournal.com 2011-02-09 08:09 pm (UTC)(link)
Yeah, not really the most comfortable way to spend the day.

And I'd probably be grumpy anyway. Just not in botched iambic pentameter.
Edited 2011-02-09 20:10 (UTC)

[identity profile] bloodcakedarmor.livejournal.com 2011-02-09 08:27 pm (UTC)(link)
It could be worse, I guess. Lots of worse things that poetry, botched or not.

What are you working on?

[identity profile] coyote-walking.livejournal.com 2011-02-09 08:39 pm (UTC)(link)
Yep, I suppose you're right.

Fixing the stupid transmission in place. And it's not happy with me.

Of course, the feeling's mutual at this point.

[identity profile] bloodcakedarmor.livejournal.com 2011-02-09 09:27 pm (UTC)(link)
Yeah, the mutual part sounds about right. I'll leave you to it then. But hey, you need anything let me know.

[identity profile] coyote-walking.livejournal.com 2011-02-09 10:27 pm (UTC)(link)
Hold on, hold on...

[There's more muttering, a few mechanic's power words, a grunt, and a sigh. Then she slides out from under the car, wiping her hands on a rag she had tucked into her pocket.]

Oh, thank heavens.

All right, I'm buttoning things up for the evening and calling it a day.

I'm all good. How's things by you?

[identity profile] bloodcakedarmor.livejournal.com 2011-02-10 01:18 am (UTC)(link)
Things are going alright. You get the transmission in?

[identity profile] coyote-walking.livejournal.com 2011-02-10 01:26 am (UTC)(link)
It'll hold. I did the brute strength part.

Tomorrow I can work on the finesse part.