Bree (devilsmaycare) wrote in fortuna_manor,

His bag draped lazily over his arm as he hoisted himself onto the front railings of the manor. It really had been a long flight, and going inside seems rather pointless when he wanted to soak up as much of the night as he could.

The cool air stung at his under clothed flesh, New Orleans had given him over to warm nights and blossoming flowers, the harsh air here seems a drastic converse. He closed his eyes, musing. He was already homesick and he'd not even entered the front door. He didn't know how he would do this, how he'd survive.
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