(no subject)
Hullo to everyone here, gentlemen, ladies and those who have yet to make up their minds. I'm called Melanthios, and am a strange concoction of Taoist, Hellenistic Pagan, Fop, Storyteller and avid Player of Make-Believe Alone in My Room. I live on the second floor of Disneyland's New Orleans Square, with all the *ahem* Ladies of the Night, and I often have the Villains up for tea and chocolates. I have been told that I am curious, versatile (::blush::), and charming.
I work at a bookshop, and am saving for a coat of truly magnificent calibre. In my spare time I am tentatively a gipsy at two Renaissance Faires in my region; I also am a member of the Society for Creative Anachronism and dote upon my surrogate, long-eared, fluffy-tailed daughter named Inlé, whom I rescued from a most cruel and ill-bred sort of person.
In conversation about my Coat to a friend, we began to inadvertently write a new version of 'If You Give a Mouse a Cooky'. So, the new version:
If You Give a Fop a Coat
By Melanthios
If you give a fop a velvet coat...he'll need a brocade waistcoat to go with it.
When you give him the waistcoat...he'll notice that he needs a lacy cravat to match.
When he starts to tie the cravat...he'll realise that he needs a billowy shirt to fasten with it.
When he gets the shirt...he'll want a pair of skin-tight breeches to tuck it into.
When he puts on the breeches...he'll exclaim that he needs a pair of silk stockings to buckle them over.
When he pulls up the stockings...he'll want a new pair of red-heeled shoes to show off his legs in.
And when you get him the shoes...he's going to want a coat to go with them.
And thirdly--I have been going on and on about my Coat, my Dream Coat, and how I am saving for it. Well, here it is: The Bailey Coat, by Lady Samiah. I have tried one on, and they are completely orgasmic. Heavy and just right for flaring impressively as one turns corners.
Keep the Quill Dipped,
~Melanthios
I work at a bookshop, and am saving for a coat of truly magnificent calibre. In my spare time I am tentatively a gipsy at two Renaissance Faires in my region; I also am a member of the Society for Creative Anachronism and dote upon my surrogate, long-eared, fluffy-tailed daughter named Inlé, whom I rescued from a most cruel and ill-bred sort of person.
In conversation about my Coat to a friend, we began to inadvertently write a new version of 'If You Give a Mouse a Cooky'. So, the new version:
If You Give a Fop a Coat
By Melanthios
If you give a fop a velvet coat...he'll need a brocade waistcoat to go with it.
When you give him the waistcoat...he'll notice that he needs a lacy cravat to match.
When he starts to tie the cravat...he'll realise that he needs a billowy shirt to fasten with it.
When he gets the shirt...he'll want a pair of skin-tight breeches to tuck it into.
When he puts on the breeches...he'll exclaim that he needs a pair of silk stockings to buckle them over.
When he pulls up the stockings...he'll want a new pair of red-heeled shoes to show off his legs in.
And when you get him the shoes...he's going to want a coat to go with them.
And thirdly--I have been going on and on about my Coat, my Dream Coat, and how I am saving for it. Well, here it is: The Bailey Coat, by Lady Samiah. I have tried one on, and they are completely orgasmic. Heavy and just right for flaring impressively as one turns corners.
Keep the Quill Dipped,
~Melanthios