all time ever does is pass ( closed )

[elegiaque]

WHO: teen girl squad* (* none of them are teenagers, abby, clarisse, gwenaëlle) (old men may cameo)
WHAT: a slumber party
WHEN: during Camp Out 9:50, loosely before various lesbians leave or arrive.
WHERE: La Souveraineté.
NOTES: I definitely did this starter a week ago when I said I was doing it.

One of the many benefits of being Gwenaëlle's friend (or it's a benefit, anyway) is this: if the houseboat is not exactly an oasis of calm (three men, Gwenaëlle, a dog, a cat, several birds, a fire-breathing dracolisk,) then it does feature one. The bath has its own room on one of the upper stories, private, comfortable, with a vanity and seating and towels heated by hot stones if Guilfoyle gets enough advance notice. The door locks and while there is certainly room in the bath for more than one person (probably, if they were very friendly with one another, about four) there is no expectation that it be shared.

(Though Small Yngvi likes it enough that it pays to be mindful when closing the door, in case of being unexpectedly less alone than previously thought.)

So: the bath. Due to the number of people who live aboard, nowadays, using it is easy but needs some degree of planning to ensure availability, which likewise means that it only makes sense to arrange a day that suits more than one of them, and then the prospect of having gone to all that trouble to be clean and go back out into a camp blowing work-dust this way and that before one's hair is even dry makes no sense at all, which is how it comes to be that it's actually just practical and sensible and really the only reasonable way forward that Gwenaëlle arrange bedding and dinner in the gallery's conversation pit and Clarisse and Abby should stay, obviously.

She is working oil through her own damp hair, methodically, a robe wrapped around the only sort of nightgown she owns (indecent without the robe); she has, naturally, offered the lend of their like to Abby and Clarisse, as well as a sampling of various costly Orlesian lotions and potions. “Do you need your hair braided? I sort of miss getting to do it with other people, it's been forever.”

Gwenaëlle has a mind like a steel trap for loves come and gone; it is almost certain she could be unsettlingly specific about how long.