Entry tags:
step, kick, kick, leap, kick, touch
Even though it's a little bit selfish, Kurt has yet to relinquish his right to the Compound suite he snagged when Blaine arrived on the island. The island's ten mile diameter may seem like precious little land in theory, but in the day to day, it already makes the trek from home to work a long one, and dragging outfits through all that heat is more than painful to a boy whose complexion burns when he's spent a minute too long under the sun. Most of his fabrics and patterns are kept in the Compound, and the space has become a place all his own, a place he can lose himself in if he needs some time to himself.
These days, he's been obsessed with dresses again, and there's always a single person from the island he has in mind when designing them.
He raps twice on her door, sharp but not too loud, just in case anyone's asleep inside.
"Grace?" he calls out softly, rustling peacock blue taffeta in his arms. "Are you home?"
These days, he's been obsessed with dresses again, and there's always a single person from the island he has in mind when designing them.
He raps twice on her door, sharp but not too loud, just in case anyone's asleep inside.
"Grace?" he calls out softly, rustling peacock blue taffeta in his arms. "Are you home?"

no subject
"Kurt, hi," she says, stepping out of the way to let him inside, "What's that you've got there?"
no subject
"Well," he says, giving the half-sewn dress a nice pat. "I was designing another dress, definitely keeping you in mind while I started putting the fabric together, but I was hoping you had the time for a fitting."