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Vamos, mira... el mundo explota...
Elsa is too curious for her own good but skilled at avoiding trouble. She and her elder brother live with a widowed woman from across the border. They don’t have a lot of money. Elsa is nine years old and likes making clothes and stealing apples (hasn’t been caught yet).
And obviously, I’m still getting the hang of it. But hey, I drew a background! First time? I’m usually kinda bad at drawing trees but I think this came out okay.
Cyclone Lusi is now affecting New Zealand so we’re getting lots of lovely rain! And wind, which isn’t as lovely. Apparently we should tie down anything that could become a “damaging or deadly missile”. What a crack-up XD
Here, what a big beautiful storm system. You can actually see it real-time here. Pretty awesome. :3
Well, I’ll leave ya with that for today. Enjoy your springtime guys, autumn’s upon us here. Til next time!
Don’t look my friend, in the dark when you sleep, when you dream within a dream and can’t wake up, when you hear the click of claws on a polished floor, see the amber circles glowing in the black.
My accountant is an annoying man. Short. Brown hair. Too young and naive at the first interview to realize what sort of work I do. Not stupid enough to remain oblivious to my schemes once inside, but too scared to leave. It helps that there are numerous difficult clauses in the contract designed to keep employees trapped. Pointing the revolver at him when he threatened to quit also seemed to aid his decision to continue working for me. Who knows why.
“Mr Ellis, sir?” He sounds shakier than usual.
Leaning back in my big leather chair, I ignore him for a minute. Then I sigh. “What is it, Jeeves.”
“I– I– have something to discuss with you, please?”
I grit my teeth. If this is another problem with the books, I swear I’ll…
Swiveling my chair around, there are three loud bangs. There is a black-clad agent in the doorway. This moment outlines itself clearly in my mind. Jeeves, released and thrown back into the corner with his arms over his face. The agent’s tight uniform, straight pants and shiny boots, her jet-black hair in a long braid that drapes over her shoulder. Her face, youthful yet lined, not made-up, big, blue eyes behind the smoking gun.
My accountant is an annoying man. Disloyal. Traitor. He’s ended my career.