[Anonymous Video Voicemail~] Ring ring ringboat_lightsJanuary 22 2010, 02:23:23 UTC
[The screen flickers on for a moment, zooming in on a... door.
A rather familiar-looking door.
... it might be your door, Boris. In fact, if the note tacked on it is anything to go by, it's even got your name on it.
See?]
To the Mister Boris;
I do hope you aren't having a wonderful day, Mister Boris. After all, that would mean the ill tidings would have been broken to you already, and I would not have to bear the sole responsibility of your consolation.
After all, your lovely Miss Chii resembles a rather sad image of a princess crowned in white and wreathed in flowers as fleeting as the snow upon the defrosting ground. Her eyes closed in a slumber as deep-reaching as the longest of the ivy vines crowning her ivory tower, she awaits her true-love's kiss.
But we all know what happens to the princess whose prince dawdles with the fool's company, do we not? A delicate slice of apple is a difficult thing to swallow whole, no matter the temptation. Soon enough, those passage ways that have held open for her fleeting life may close at it's fleeting whims.
I think I would like it very much, if I could have a word with your fool by the lake's shore. And if that were to happen, perhaps the flower's fragrance would not overpower the delicate princess and the apple may be removed on its own accord.
Please be speedy in your approach. After all, time runs like a rabbit, and can be considered just as fickle. It's rather hard to tell when the hourglass has found itself tilted upon its side.
A rather familiar-looking door.
... it might be your door, Boris. In fact, if the note tacked on it is anything to go by, it's even got your name on it.
See?]
To the Mister Boris;
I do hope you aren't having a wonderful day, Mister Boris. After all, that would mean the ill tidings would have been broken to you already, and I would not have to bear the sole responsibility of your consolation.
After all, your lovely Miss Chii resembles a rather sad image of a princess crowned in white and wreathed in flowers as fleeting as the snow upon the defrosting ground. Her eyes closed in a slumber as deep-reaching as the longest of the ivy vines crowning her ivory tower, she awaits her true-love's kiss.
But we all know what happens to the princess whose prince dawdles with the fool's company, do we not? A delicate slice of apple is a difficult thing to swallow whole, no matter the temptation. Soon enough, those passage ways that have held open for her fleeting life may close at it's fleeting whims.
I think I would like it very much, if I could have a word with your fool by the lake's shore. And if that were to happen, perhaps the flower's fragrance would not overpower the delicate princess and the apple may be removed on its own accord.
Please be speedy in your approach. After all, time runs like a rabbit, and can be considered just as fickle. It's rather hard to tell when the hourglass has found itself tilted upon its side.
It's been a pleasure, Mister Boris.
Shall we be friends?
Yours sincerely;
Anonymous
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