- Messages
- 895
- OOC First Name
- Anna
- Blood Status
- Unknown
- Relationship Status
- Engaged
- Sexual Orientation
- Homosexual
- Wand
- Straight 12 Inch Flexible Ash Wand with Phoenix Tail Feather Core
- Age
- 35
This is set after the election results party at the medley.
With multiple cocktail kozlovs downed and happiness in knowing he wouldn't be sleeping entirely alone for the first time in months, Archie returned to his apartment with an excited buzz in his system. The place was in its usual state of disarray with clothes strewn around, and Archie couldn't distinguish between what he owned and what Orwell owned, but as he walked through the room and looked around, he hardly minded the clothes as they were part of the reason that made the apartment a place he recognized as home. When Orwell wasn't around, his clothes and familiar scent being nearby was the next best thing and wearing the occasional shirt that smelled of his best friend had been something Archie had grown to rely on when the loneliness became all too much during the election campaigns. But thankfully the election was well over, with the new minister and deputy minister announced, and Archie expected nothing less than for Orwell to resume spending time with him in the way they were accustomed in the ten years they'd been best friends.
Ten years was an overwhelming thought to Archie's drunk mind when he realized it, the idea that he had a friendship lasting a decade and withstanding the test of time and the many challenges they had faced conflicting with the fact he was still young and in his early twenties, making him feel older than he knew he was as he sifted through the clothes around the apartment in search of something comfortable to wear to sleep. It wasn't long before Archie found one of Orwell's shirts and some stray pajama pants, quickly changing into them and sighing with contentment as he fell backwards onto the bed. Archie's hands absent mindedly tapped against his stomach as he stared to the ceiling, recounting the memories made in the last decade and waiting for Orwell to finally arrive home so he could receive the cuddles and bedtime stories he had been pining for.
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