[for two days ago. ignore us.]

[three_smiles]

He never forgets Michaelmas, not since Simon taught him it was a day made entirely for his own honour (honour he hasn't got any longer). He has been making little gifts for the past several months in preparation

Comments

[danceinblood]

*Salome has always gone barefoot, or worn sandals -- she had a pair of very pretty slippers, lovely, silken things, once, but didn't like the feel of them -- but the days are growing colder, and as she casts her eyes over the shoes, there is a thought in them*

[three_smiles]

*Michael watches her with his blank eyes; he's a little to the side, and sitting very still, so that one doesn't notice him immediately*

[danceinblood]

*she bends to run her hand over a shoe, examining, considering*

[three_smiles]

*he finally speaks, quietly, with little intonation of any kind* They are too big for your feet. You have very small feet. These will be better. *and, kneeling forward, he rescues a pair with a touch of fur in them, and a pattern of blue beads in the stitching*

[lil_live_wire]

Francine is always investigating things that are left out in the open, and when she sees the shoes she just has to go over (in all her sparkly, winged, princess-gown glory thanks to Epi's crackplot) and poke at the smaller shoes.

[three_smiles]

Michael watches her. Children--children are the reason he is cast from Heaven; because he was disobedient for the sake of children. He was, even in an Angelic state, mindful of them; and in a human state, can't help but still be slightly fascinated by them.

[lil_live_wire]

Not knowing she's being watched, Francine picks up a pretty red pair decorated with glass beads and quickly pulls off her own shoes. She plops down on the ground, poofy skirt flaring around her, and tries to pull them on.

[three_smiles]

As usual, he's unable to identify human emotions, so he doesn't understand in the slightest what he's feeling; but if he could, it would be a kind of very quiet pleasure. He likes watching a child happy.

[decentscoundrel]

The look of them is enough to give Pyetr pause, in this madly modern place, with its preponderance of British and French and analogues thereof-- the sudden presence of inexplicable rows of shoes is a bit less reassuring. "What's this?"

[three_smiles]

He moves, suddenly, making himself visible. Before he was perfectly still. "Shoes for giving."

[be_my_me]

*ooooooo, shoes! sees them and very much admires the handiwork* Made you these, sir? They are fine.

[three_smiles]

I made them. *being, of course, Angelic, he can't be proud of his work. he acknowledges it quietly, indifferent in voice*

[be_my_me]

*examines a pair with beads* To what purpose, if I may so ask?

[three_smiles]

They are for you. They are for all of the children of the earth.

[botticelliangel]

*kneels beside a row and inquisitively touches one of the smallest pairs, some spark of memory smoothing his face into solemn, faraway blankness*

*addresses no one in particular* Are these for the taking?

[three_smiles]

*Michael's face is equally blank as he looks at Amadeo* For you. They are for all the children.

[botticelliangel]

*half-smiles, shaking his head* Not for me. For my own child, now.

[three_smiles]

You have a child? Take them for your child. *likes children! even if his voice is totally expressionless! he still likes the idea of Amadeo having a child*