Privato a Ciaránmorsus_et_morsApril 10 2007, 18:27:16 UTC
I wanted to invite you to come along, but then thought better-- you could carry off my prey in your own beak.
Recently, my dear, I have been re-thinking. All those existential questions worth a knut, and been throwing them out of the gothic windows of Arcadia. You must come visit the place sometime when you are not busy being rear-licked by your adoring masses.
Privato a MontaguesilhouetteatroxApril 10 2007, 18:33:15 UTC
I might. But I would share. Who's the lucky boy and/or girl?
That sounds better than any single thing I can imagine, right at this moment. Can we drink wine and wander the catacombs beneath, as in the days of old?
Privato a Ciaránmorsus_et_morsApril 11 2007, 15:59:48 UTC
One Mlle Turpin, who insists on addressing me as Monsieur, despite my decidedly not French origins.
That and a thousands and one things more. We could dress up like unrestful ghosts of bloodthirsty ballerinas killed on a Walpurgis Nacht massacre- and frolick around in the underground.
Privato a MontaguesilhouetteatroxApril 11 2007, 17:15:26 UTC
Haha! I wonder where she got the amusing little idea that such a term was appropriate in regards to you. I recall her comments in my own journal some weeks ago...perhaps she is one of those half-bumbling tricksters, full of words and a pristine facade to hide a constant, buzzing confusion?
Then again, I called your little friend Siidney monsieur, but the intent was entirely condescension.
How fun. I'll carve my initials in that funny silver portrait, and let the mercury spur me on to insanity. I'll be the Mad Hatter!
Privato a Ciaránmorsus_et_morsApril 12 2007, 18:05:51 UTC
Ah ma no, tesoro. If only that fantasy of yours were true-- Mlle Turpin is, I am afraid, quite the vapid one. Or so she came across to me on the rarest of occasions when I had the pleasure of spending time with her. Also-- not a slightest idea as to what makes her think we are connected in any way.
Oh you, evil you, torturing my poor little toy. Let us not explode his mind anymore, shall we? I need him intact for my entertainment.
You would make for an adorable Mad Hatter, paramour.
Privato a MontaguesilhouetteatroxApril 13 2007, 06:49:12 UTC
Vapid? What a shame (my suspicions confirmed). I've ceased experiencing even the slightest twinge of envy concerning your outing, then. Well, perhaps. But then, I shall just snatch up a little daisy of my own.
(Ciarán pauses here to give instructions to some of the posing models and photographers.)
Ah, Montague, such silliness all around me! I am in the studio, of course, finishing up a few editorials for the upcoming press tour. I've decided on a fantastical theme...pervese lightness, twisted innocence, and all that. It will look wonderful and chiffony, though.
(Oh! Lila says hello. I think you made a good impression on her in Japan.)
Suit yourself. I won't even touch him. His gentle, unburdened brain will remain intact--just for you.
Privato a Ciarán - two days latermorsus_et_morsApril 15 2007, 15:58:02 UTC
Yes, envy not. This outing of mine was not a very huge success. To be quite honest, I did not even get a response from the impudent bore. (Also, forgive me for the lack of replies to yours truly, for I have been rather preoccupied with fantasies of the days of yore
( ... )
Privato a Montague - two days latersilhouetteatroxApril 16 2007, 01:50:07 UTC
You're We're all boring, but this little one seems to take the cake. I've already forgotten her.
Perhaps you're right, but I prefer to be free to enjoy the fruits of my labors. It is comfort enough that you, my dearest, can at least comprehend what they mean beneath. Infamy is not for me--not yet [ha, I am such a mystery]. Here's one of the advance pictures, just for you: she's my wind-up doll.
Oh, I'll pass along the message--I have a feeling she's looking forward to the day, the wench.
Is that so? How interesting. I could of course put on a show of my many unbreakable engagements for this evening, but there isn't, I'm afraid, anything I wouldn't cancel for you, duckling. I'll meet you at your manor (don't tell Milli, I'm just not in the mood).
Happy un-birthday, Marchy. It's Alice's turn to show you the town.
Have fun with the spoiling; of course you shall think of me by your side, laughing.
Reply
Recently, my dear, I have been re-thinking. All those existential questions worth a knut, and been throwing them out of the gothic windows of Arcadia. You must come visit the place sometime when you are not busy being rear-licked by your adoring masses.
Reply
That sounds better than any single thing I can imagine, right at this moment. Can we drink wine and wander the catacombs beneath, as in the days of old?
Reply
That and a thousands and one things more. We could dress up like unrestful ghosts of bloodthirsty ballerinas killed on a Walpurgis Nacht massacre- and frolick around in the underground.
Reply
Then again, I called your little friend Siidney monsieur, but the intent was entirely condescension.
How fun. I'll carve my initials in that funny silver portrait, and let the mercury spur me on to insanity. I'll be the Mad Hatter!
Reply
Oh you, evil you, torturing my poor little toy. Let us not explode his mind anymore, shall we? I need him intact for my entertainment.
You would make for an adorable Mad Hatter, paramour.
Reply
(Ciarán pauses here to give instructions to some of the posing models and photographers.)
Ah, Montague, such silliness all around me! I am in the studio, of course, finishing up a few editorials for the upcoming press tour. I've decided on a fantastical theme...pervese lightness, twisted innocence, and all that. It will look wonderful and chiffony, though.
(Oh! Lila says hello. I think you made a good impression on her in Japan.)
Suit yourself. I won't even touch him. His gentle, unburdened brain will remain intact--just for you.
I daresay you're right, Hare.
Reply
Reply
Perhaps you're right, but I prefer to be free to enjoy the fruits of my labors. It is comfort enough that you, my dearest, can at least comprehend what they mean beneath. Infamy is not for me--not yet [ha, I am such a mystery]. Here's one of the advance pictures, just for you: she's my wind-up doll.
Oh, I'll pass along the message--I have a feeling she's looking forward to the day, the wench.
Is that so? How interesting. I could of course put on a show of my many unbreakable engagements for this evening, but there isn't, I'm afraid, anything I wouldn't cancel for you, duckling. I'll meet you at your manor (don't tell Milli, I'm just not in the mood).
Happy un-birthday, Marchy. It's Alice's turn to show you the town.
Reply
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