Where for Art Thou?
WHO: Dewi "Romeo" Ainsworth, Natalia "Juliet" Arlovskaya
WHEN: Sunday May 9th, Tea Time
WHERE: Arthur's and Dewi's House
WHAT: But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and the mad woman breaking into the house is the sun.
Arthur was out.
Or more specifically Arthur was out grocery shopping. His half-brother, not wandering down rows and rows of Costco products, sat placidly atop the cushion of the rounded chair with the morning paper occupying the sunbathed table, teacup and saucer in his free hand. The air around him smelled exclusively of earl grey and biscotti. The Welshman sat in solitude, framed eyes scanning but not reading an article on the side effects of Soy, because his eyes periodically drifted to the robins perched on the branches of a nearby tree. The nest looked much more developed than earlier yesterday morning. He noted the tiny piece of cotton sticking out of the twiggy structure. If there was one musical thing he appreciated more than the great composers and the sound of his voice in the abandoned auditorium, it was the song of the robin. The crimson birds chirped their sweet song as they built, constructed, and danced along the long branch looming over the kitchen window - Arthur's weeping angel stood behind the tree with her head in her hands.
SLAM.
"Back home already Arthur? You only left ten minutes ago," He rose to his feet, swallowed the last sip of his milky tea, and pressed his hand against the small of his back in a stretch. After adjusting his glasses, he made way toward the front door. "The bus wasn't due at our stop for another five minutes after you lef..." but last he checked, Arthur wasn't a female - no matter what his last blog said about some pregnancy test - nor was his hair so fair, nor were his eyebrows so kept. "...m-may I h-help you?"
WHEN: Sunday May 9th, Tea Time
WHERE: Arthur's and Dewi's House
WHAT: But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and the mad woman breaking into the house is the sun.
Arthur was out.
Or more specifically Arthur was out grocery shopping. His half-brother, not wandering down rows and rows of Costco products, sat placidly atop the cushion of the rounded chair with the morning paper occupying the sunbathed table, teacup and saucer in his free hand. The air around him smelled exclusively of earl grey and biscotti. The Welshman sat in solitude, framed eyes scanning but not reading an article on the side effects of Soy, because his eyes periodically drifted to the robins perched on the branches of a nearby tree. The nest looked much more developed than earlier yesterday morning. He noted the tiny piece of cotton sticking out of the twiggy structure. If there was one musical thing he appreciated more than the great composers and the sound of his voice in the abandoned auditorium, it was the song of the robin. The crimson birds chirped their sweet song as they built, constructed, and danced along the long branch looming over the kitchen window - Arthur's weeping angel stood behind the tree with her head in her hands.
SLAM.
"Back home already Arthur? You only left ten minutes ago," He rose to his feet, swallowed the last sip of his milky tea, and pressed his hand against the small of his back in a stretch. After adjusting his glasses, he made way toward the front door. "The bus wasn't due at our stop for another five minutes after you lef..." but last he checked, Arthur wasn't a female - no matter what his last blog said about some pregnancy test - nor was his hair so fair, nor were his eyebrows so kept. "...m-may I h-help you?"