(Untitled)

[markedcard]

Merlin wanders down the stairs, fresh from a nap and some work on a set of new Trumps he's creating, which explains the tired expression on his face. At the bottom of the staircase, he's suddenly seized by an inexplicable urge to sing:

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[mogget_cat]

Someone is already there with their Atlantean, with the air of one who is blushing, if not the color.

"You got caught in it, too?" She asked.

[markedcard]

Merlin eyes the Atlantean and notes the tone of voice.

"I did. Might end up hiding out with the demon bunnies later."

Not that he's actually seen one yet.

[mogget_cat]

"That might be fun," she smirks. "Though they wouldn't hang around me too long. They know me."

But they are not able to count high enough to know how many of them Yrael has eaten over the years.

[markedcard]

"It'd be less embaressing than being caught up in this again."

He directs a glare towards the staircase, just in case it had something to do with his predicament.

[mogget_cat]

"I'm thinking of retreating to New Orleans, myself, or just going back to bed."

[markedcard]

"You're the second person I've had a conversation about New Orleans with.." Not that his song had anything to do with that.

"Merlin."

Look! An extended hand.

[mogget_cat]

She takes his hand with a pale smile. It might be a reeeeaaally amused, slightly catty smile.

"A pleasure to meet you yet again, Merlin."

[markedcard]

It's the catty aspect that whaps Merlin across the back of the head. And the eyes, maybe.

"Yrael?"

Appreciative stare.

[mogget_cat]

She laughs.

"I admit it; I'm caught."

[markedcard]

"I'm impressed. You're gorgeous."

Smirk.

[mogget_cat]

"Well, of course," she grins with a side of duh to her tone. "It's me."

"Spoon says my breasts are not as impressive as Ace's, but I think he is biased."

[markedcard]

He is going to glance down and eye them now, studiously.

"Lovely, but I would expect nothing else from you."

[mogget_cat]

"One does one's utmost," she shrugs, smirking. "I personally think I might be too skinny."

Her beauty is... a rather angular kind of beauty. Yrael is thin in his male form, the same with his female form, hiding the emaciated thinness of its true shape with lithe grace.

[markedcard]

Her sort of beauty is striking and very similar to many of the Hellmaids of Chaos, a force that his own mother belongs to.

"No, Yrael. You are nigh perfect in whatever form you choose."

That? Is a rare surge of honesty. From the darkhaired woman across from her.

[mogget_cat]

She grins, toothily. "That's always good to hear."

Death once told Yrael that he'd always look most beautiful in his true shape, which was the first time anyone had ever said something like that. He'll remember it until the end of Time, when he takes Her hand at last.

"You're not so bad, yourself."

[markedcard]

"Truth can occasionally be good to hear, not that I'm well versed in the practice of it. In your case, it works."

Merlin props an elbow against the counter, her vanity more apparent in this form than the other.

"Thank you."