Characters: Fugue (
fugue_angel), OPEN to all
Date/Time: Today, after receiving
a strange dreamLocation: Park Island, The City Without Walls
Rating: TBD. May change depending on various interactions and/or possible introduction of meta info.
Summary: Fugue comes out of hiding after receiving a strange dream. What awaits him now?
Note: Each thread will be
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If only he'd known the other's intentions, he might've been mortified and run away. However, ignorance was bliss--Fugue would know no better today, which was as much as he knew just about any other day as well.
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In the back of his mind he was still thinking about what to do with the double, but for the time being most of his attention was focused on the man before him. Part of him thought about how great it would be to make another friend, and yet at the same time it almost pleased him to see someone else in distress.
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Fugue felt guarded but simply watched (albeit quizzically) as the other patted him on the head. He quickly wiped the expression off his face when the other clarified. It was strange that the other was asking so slowly, like they were both speaking different languages or something...
"I... well--I suppose it could be called trouble." He sighed a little, breath coming out in a little smoky mist in front of his mouth. "Has to do with those duplicates. What do you think of them?
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So Fugue decided to wave it off in his head.
"Mine--" He cut himself off, thinking about it for a bit. As far as he was concerned, his double has already taken action against him. So he didn't like it one bit. "Mine is quite a handful, I suppose. I haven't yet met him, but I've seen what he can do and am somewhat anxious about it."
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"That's your job, right? Unless what you've worked for is meaningless?" He wasn't smiling any longer, a look of uncertain seriousness on his face. Parts of his dream crept back into his mind why couldn't they get along? why had this happened... but he tried to ignore them.
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Though speaking of otherwise, he was pretty sure that there wasn't much concrete evidence in the first place. Well, okay--there was the instance of eyewitnesses, but... people couldn't exactly take responsibility for things they couldn't remember. And Fugue, like others... didn't remember.
But punish them...? As in, punish the exile, punish his double... It all sounded like a very good plan. He'd most certainly like to punish them, and if he could, he wouldn't mind punishing all those who'd smeared his good name made it impossible for him to continue disguising himself as the old man. He liked that outfit ( ... )
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He looked up once again from the snow drawings and over at the man sitting on the swings. "It's nice to meet you comrade. I'm Vodka. I'm sure you'll be able to take care of the issue with your double."
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