♔ 1| It's Only A Dream...
[Arthur Pendragon, Crown Prince and unofficial regent of Camelot is dreaming of tournaments.
This in itself isn't the least bit odd, what is odd, is how the dream in question is unfolding ( Read more... )
This in itself isn't the least bit odd, what is odd, is how the dream in question is unfolding ( Read more... )
Cloud is wandering through the crowds in the stands. He's got a huge wicker basket on his back and a small tray of rough wood in his hands. He's also, inexplicably, wearing a tattered black cloak that looks a bit like a monk's robe - if a monk was very, very drunk and couldn't quite figure out what a monk's robe was supposed to look like. The cowl though is pushed back to reveal the tell tale spikes of blond with a strange, cheap white paper cap of questionable make stuffed down among them. After making an exchange which consists of throwing a bright colored bag of white and red stripes three rows down and picking up the waving money on the way past, he ambles over to where Arther is. The tray gets presented for browsing.]
Get 'em while they're hot.
[it's more of a bored grunt than anything else. The tray has several varieties on it, each sample ready to be wrapped in it's own colorful bag and tossed to a paying customer. Who knew there were such clean samples of still fresh looking lopped off fingers and toes for sale today?]
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