Crackplot!

[ebonyjaenelle72]

Jaenelle is playing, and Jaenelle playing is always a little dangerous, but that's all right. Because she's having fun! And so, playing with herbs and some magic, she's made a very curious illusion on the front lawn of an elegant garden, very like her own in SaDiablo Hall, water trickling over the rocks. However, a sudden noise startles her and she

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[cyranosavignien]

Well. Cyrano's on his way to visit Jaenelle, when... Poof! He's a boy again, of about 10 years of age.

He looks around himself, bewildered, at his hands and feet.

"God's Whiskers !"

[twice_tainted]

"...hello, young sir. Are you lost?"

[cyranosavignien]

He looks up at the lady, smiles.

"Looks like it, I'm afraid, Madame. Where am I?" He frowns. Scratches his nose. Then gets embarrassed about scratching his nose and stops, grinning apologetically.

[twice_tainted]

"You're in the Mansion. I'm afraid I can't be much more specific. Are you hungry?" Because that's one of the few things she knows about little boys.

[scoffandjest]

It seems that Dinadan grew into his awkward looks sometime in his teens, for the small, freckled boy whose sleeves are a bit too long might actually be called cute. He's just watching people pass, and does not seem to shy at all from laughing if someone particularly strangely dressed happens by-- which is fairly often, from his medieval standpoint. It is the laugh that is the same now as it always will be.

[sixpearls]

Mary loooooves children. She also probably looks very sillily dressed to him, in her pink Victorian day gown, and if he laughs she will stop to smile at him.

[scoffandjest]

Well, he's the decency to stop when she looks at him, at least.

[sixpearls]

"Why, hello," engagingly. "What's your name?"

[nots0darling]

Let's flash forward two years to eighteen-year-old Jess Darling, post-prom, having just given her virginity to her boyfriend. She's wrapped in bed sheets, her bra strap falling off her shoulder. She blinks and peers around a doorway.

"... Marcus?"

[eyrienprince]

Lucivar is now a great deal smaller, around ten years old. There's a touch of fierceness in his eyes, a bit of bitterness to his bearing, but it's nothing to what his older self will carry, and the glint of surprised delight in his eyes is something almost never seen in the Lucivar most people here know. He grins and fans out smaller batlike wings, his golden eyes curiously unscarred.

The grin spreads into one of arrogant glee and he heads for the door, already thinking of what he wants to explore. After all, no one from the hunting camps is going to find him here.

[topofadmiration]

"Sir! Thou'rt small!"

[eyrienprince]

He blinks and turns around to stare at her, surprised. "Who're you?"

[topofadmiration]

She's surprised that he is in fact, younger, rather than just smaller. "I am Miranda. Thou-- thou'rt Lucivar, art thou not?"

[anna_morcades]

A girl of eighteen: her dark, dark hair falling loose down her back, her long skirts gathered in one hand as she clears the stairs. She looks about her warily and, it seems, a little anxiously.

[lesser_son]

Melou doesn't miss the resemblance, somehow, and pauses to smile at her. "Anna?"

[anna_morcades]

She turns at once. "Ay, sir," cautiously.

[lesser_son]

"How do you?"