(no subject)
(Having managed to find his way home again, Mark Antony got caught up in the daily political troubles of his time, and so it was a while before he stumbled upon another magic door...)
...and so he steps back in, dressed in a gleaming white toga that would put a million frat boys to shame. He makes it look noble, commanding, perfectly natural; close inspection might reveal that it's faintly flecked with blood that is not likely his own. He looks to be fighting mad--
--and then he realizes where he is, and stops. "Ah, my beautiful hallucination."
He grins, the bad mood draining away as he steps toward the bar and orders some wine. The Tribune is in, for all your ancient political concerns, and is eminently botherable.
(edit, ooc: Slowtime for a bit.)
...and so he steps back in, dressed in a gleaming white toga that would put a million frat boys to shame. He makes it look noble, commanding, perfectly natural; close inspection might reveal that it's faintly flecked with blood that is not likely his own. He looks to be fighting mad--
--and then he realizes where he is, and stops. "Ah, my beautiful hallucination."
He grins, the bad mood draining away as he steps toward the bar and orders some wine. The Tribune is in, for all your ancient political concerns, and is eminently botherable.
(edit, ooc: Slowtime for a bit.)