Post by Morgan Karga on Jul 28, 2016 0:16:41 GMT -5
Morgan's apartment sits on the end of Berkley street in a duplex connected to a long row of buildings, more apartments very likely. Her flat is on the top floor, number three of course and her door, unlike the others, is latched with three deadbolts and one slider.
Right when you walk through the battered door you're hit in the face with her cube of a living room with just one worn out midnight leather couch, tearing at its seams as though she pulled it out of a dumpster and, in comparison to the rest of the apartment, a pretty decent looking flat screen pinned to the wall. There aren't any lights besides one standing lamp next to the side table that almost hits you in the hip as you pass from the living room to the dining room. If you can even call it that.
All over the blistered walls of plywood she's got posters of pinup women from magazines and event notices from the club uptown, Nocte Aeterna. From just the look of the place, you can tell she's probably a lesbian and she probably doesn't give a flying heck about the appearance of her home.
The dining table isn't much of a table in the little claustrophobic space where it sits, but more of a piece of laminated steel shoved into the wall with seats on both sides. Windows line the kitchen and the dining room together, but they're all covered in black sheets sealed with duct tape.
In the kitchen there's a rusted stove that never gets used, a refrigerator with only condiments and, a huge bottle of something red, maybe wine? And then you have the sink. There aren't any dishes in it besides a single fork. The fork isn't dirty at all though and it's quite confusing as to why it's all by it's lonely self.
If you walk out of the kitchen and immediately to your right, you have the cramped space someone might call a bathroom, which houses a single standing shower, a toilet, a sink and one of those old medicine cabinet mirrors, but behind the mirror are only empty bottles, and the mirror itself seems to be smeared with more strange red fluid. Lipstick?
And, finally, beyond that terror of a restroom, you've got the single bedroom, which has more windows covered in black plastic and duct tape, a wardrobe that hangs out of a closet, a dresser with different styles of makeup strewn around and a bed that looks like it's never been made in its lifespan. Her sheets are different shades of red and there's a mirror on the ceiling strangely enough, almost as if she likes to watch herself...or other people?
Regardless, she comes here often, you can tell. And she kind of seems to hoard certain things.
In order to gain access to Morgan's apartment, one would have to knock, hope that she's home and that she actually answers the door, which might be hard to get if it's during the daytime.
[OOC: Will post in this thread as Morgan when she is arriving at and inside of her apartment.]
Right when you walk through the battered door you're hit in the face with her cube of a living room with just one worn out midnight leather couch, tearing at its seams as though she pulled it out of a dumpster and, in comparison to the rest of the apartment, a pretty decent looking flat screen pinned to the wall. There aren't any lights besides one standing lamp next to the side table that almost hits you in the hip as you pass from the living room to the dining room. If you can even call it that.
All over the blistered walls of plywood she's got posters of pinup women from magazines and event notices from the club uptown, Nocte Aeterna. From just the look of the place, you can tell she's probably a lesbian and she probably doesn't give a flying heck about the appearance of her home.
The dining table isn't much of a table in the little claustrophobic space where it sits, but more of a piece of laminated steel shoved into the wall with seats on both sides. Windows line the kitchen and the dining room together, but they're all covered in black sheets sealed with duct tape.
In the kitchen there's a rusted stove that never gets used, a refrigerator with only condiments and, a huge bottle of something red, maybe wine? And then you have the sink. There aren't any dishes in it besides a single fork. The fork isn't dirty at all though and it's quite confusing as to why it's all by it's lonely self.
If you walk out of the kitchen and immediately to your right, you have the cramped space someone might call a bathroom, which houses a single standing shower, a toilet, a sink and one of those old medicine cabinet mirrors, but behind the mirror are only empty bottles, and the mirror itself seems to be smeared with more strange red fluid. Lipstick?
And, finally, beyond that terror of a restroom, you've got the single bedroom, which has more windows covered in black plastic and duct tape, a wardrobe that hangs out of a closet, a dresser with different styles of makeup strewn around and a bed that looks like it's never been made in its lifespan. Her sheets are different shades of red and there's a mirror on the ceiling strangely enough, almost as if she likes to watch herself...or other people?
Regardless, she comes here often, you can tell. And she kind of seems to hoard certain things.
In order to gain access to Morgan's apartment, one would have to knock, hope that she's home and that she actually answers the door, which might be hard to get if it's during the daytime.
[OOC: Will post in this thread as Morgan when she is arriving at and inside of her apartment.]