Jan. 2nd, 2019

snakechahmah: (Green Hair)
I'm waking up to ash and dust…
I'm waking up…


****************

"Sorry, wat da fuck did you just say?" Micah asked with the rough switch blade symphony of an accent from her adopted home, the Bronx.

"Garlic. Start smashing up the garlic. Then, then," Ezera said, lifting a finger in the air, her voice straining poignantly as she zipped around the industrial kitchen sorting out blenders, "we'll mix it in with fresh orange juice. Yes. Yes! That'll work."

Ezera was dashing around the kitchen so quickly that Micah considered that perhaps she had crushed up and inhaled the Road Runner in two neat little lines.

Ashayah Salifah, nicknamed Habibi, BB for short, narrowed her heavily kohl rimmed eyes with suspicion. "W-wwwhy?"

Ezera must have gone crazy, that's why. Micah shook her head in response to BB's question and slowly leaned back like the Tower of Pisa, her dark eyes muddied with concern but not devoid of humor as she subtly checked to see if Ezera was bleeding from the ears or had, you know, visible head trauma. Her brow vaulted to the sky cartoonishly when she found nothing. BB shooed her off the kitchen island when she was about to pop a squat on the food prep table. Instead, Micah leaned her hip into the metal counter and crossed her legs at the ankle. Her chunky unlaced Doc Martin's looked humongous on her feet just like the leather jacket that was two sizes too large. She rubbed a hand over her shaved head and exchanged a concerned look with BB who was biting her lip to prevent her from saying what her large appraising eyes were unapologetically conveying.

She's gone fucking nuts.

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October 2019

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