The midterm for her botany class includes having to collect a ridiculously long list of various local flowers and such for some sort of journal, so Ophelia's out in the park trying find them all. Sylvia's with her, mostly napping in the sunshine on top of Ophelia's messenger bag. Before she headed out of the house, she shot an e-mail off the ( Read more... )

*the Tragedians have new icons, so the community gets an open post!*

*and, surprisingly, it's not in the Coffee Shop Where Everything Happens, but in the curry house the night before Orbecche opens (got to keep up their strength!); they're all sitting around a table chatting quietly, for once without scripts - it may be about a new film they've ( Read more... )

*Osric hasn't bothered anyone lately--perhaps his job's been taxing, or perhaps he's just gotten out of a clandestine not-serious/possibly-serious relationship with a girl who just wouldn't tell him what she wanted, or possibly he's been moving to be closer to his job and hasn't been near his usual haunts. possibly it's all three--but for whatever ( Read more... )

*the young prince of Denmark, sprawled out on his belly in the grass at the park, staring with a certain child-like intensity at something he's got in a little glass jar (only a child could have so much patience with something so small, but still be so restless-impatient about everything else -- even now, for all that the weather's fair and mild, ( Read more... )

*Anticleia is curled up in a chair in the corner of the Coffee Shop where Everything Happens--legs thrown over the arm, and head buried in a philosophy textbook. it's the fall of her final year in the philosophy Masters program at Elsinore, and she's underlining every passage which might be relevant to her thesis: The Tsetse and the WASP: On the ( Read more... )

*spring has sprung, and Ros is taking full advantage of it! he's at the local playground, swinging on a swing set. there are plenty of empty swings on either side of him, and he would be glad for some company - after all, it's hard to have swing races with invisible opponents!*

*an eleven-year-old boy in the park, sitting alone under a tree; he's chubby and quiet, with thick glasses sliding down his nose, and he's trying hard not to be noticed as he reads the Iliad (because he's terrified of getting picked on again)--*

*and here we have one single solitary Tragedian, manning a little table in some public place where people are likely to see it. There is a sign:*

SUPPORT THEATRE!
Cookies $1.00

*(he's not too happy.)*

Typist: sorry. *hides*

*Scene: the park. Let us say that there's a platform of some sort, currently occupied by the Tragedians. They are in the midst of a public performance of Titus Andronicus...I have done a thousand dreadful things as willingly as one would kill a fly, and nothing grieves me heartily indeed but that I cannot do ten thousand more ( Read more... )

So apparently it's Saturday night, nearing seven o'clock. Forti's got everything set up - music in the air, drinks in the cooler, snacks on the table (he made sure to get dark chocolate).

He's excited. And, though he'd rather die than admit it, a little nervous.

Pay no attention to the fact that this isn't, as announced, taking place in ( Read more... )