(Untitled)

[dukes_daughter]

Rosalind has come in search of Curio's room. With a new veil, a new gown, and an expression significantly more lighthearted than when she saw him last, Rosalind takes a breath, knocks lightly, then quickly arranges herself with folded hands and downcast eyes.

Comments

[hunt_theheart]

*Curio will emerge, rumpled and half-dressed, by the standards of his time--he's been trying on different eras' costumes, in search of one for which there are fewer fashion faux pas, and he's currently wearing dark jeans and a 1700s-era shirt with a cravat--and no shoes*

*sheepish grin* Good maiden--thou hast caught me well-amazed.

[dukes_daughter]

*can't help but give a little laugh* Wouldst thou I go and another time return?

[hunt_theheart]

*pulls on the nearest jacket--this one, an 1800s French military coat--and bows, as elegantly as one can in such attire* Nay, I at thy beck at every hour. What occasioned called thee come to me?

[dukes_daughter]

Did not I promise my return? Ne'er shalt thou find me in a stranger temper, but in this then spoke I truth. And truly did I come in part to beg forgive my passing humor queer ere last met we.

[hunt_theheart]

*a small smile, as he clears a chair of clothing, that she may sit* Strange humours often take us in the spring, when sap is stirring in both bough and heart. 'Tis naught I must forgive of thee, good maid; I pray, forget that e'er were we at odds.

[dukes_daughter]

*sits, then, and beams rather* This shall I gladly, an thou wilt.

[hunt_theheart]

*beamsback, clearing his other chair to sit (and trying not to draw attention to the fact that there is a mound of mismatched clothing now heaped on his bed); it's probably all right for a man and a woman to speak in his bedroom if they leave the door open, isn't it?* I will, an thou forgive me that I begged thee tell me why thou wear'st a shrouding veil. Until the day the need strikes thee to tear that veil away from thine own face, I shall but keep my counsel, and trust thee with thine.

[dukes_daughter]

I thank thee for it, and would we no more of it speak. Nay, tell instead wherefore thou hast such garb. *grins*

[hunt_theheart]

*stands, to model the coat (with which he is actually quite taken)* My dear friend Valentine doth often say that I know not the proper cuts and shades to make my doublet suited to my hose--and thus I do the doublet cast away, to try the different clothing I have seen throughout the mansion's halls, on different men. *beams* Mayhap there is some fashion more at ease with me than that I knew from mine own place.

[dukes_daughter]

*laughs* And these thy choice?

[hunt_theheart]

I've made no choice, as yet. *grin* An thou wouldst help me choose, I have a screen-- *gestures to the screen sectioning off the part of his room furthest from the door; it may or may not also have been pirated from another era* --the door, we may leave wide, to prove thee chaste.

[dukes_daughter]

*eagerly* O, gladly shall I aid thee, if thou thinkest my counsel worthy.

[hunt_theheart]

*gestures to her dress, which we imagine is rather comely* An counsel match thy case, 'tis worthy, ay. *then grabs two items at random, and vanishes behind the screen--emerges clad in a leather jacket, a rather Sweeney-esque wifebeater, and a kilt, as well as high black leather boots; a bit of a model-like twirl as if to say, how do I look?*

[dukes_daughter]

*readjusts in the chair, prepares herself to judge earnestly-- but when he steps out from behind the screen, at once doubles over laughing*

[hunt_theheart]

*catches sight of himself in his looking-glass--and cracks up, as well* 'Tis not a fashion suited well to me--nor anyone, I think, except a Scot--!

[dukes_daughter]

*breathlessly, between giggles* Truly, sir, 'tis fashion suited best to fools, and even he would think it foolish.