(Untitled)

[seafronted]

Who: Everyone!
What: Ritornare da Fias
Where: All around the city
When: October 21st through October 27th.

[ Following the royal announcement, many residents of Promenade can be seen in the streets. The city is clearly in the midst of autumn now, with red, orange, and gold leaves on the trees and cooler weather. During the day, the harvest is

Comments

[ituncleared]

[Fuck if he wants to think about last week's events -- not that he even remembers any of it happening, just that his existence completely faded out (some might have called that his biggest fear) -- or if he wants to figure out why this damn dream seems to be completely endless. There's a cigarette in his fingers, blowing smoke with his head tilted back.

A few fresh scratches (courtesy of his cat) are visible on the back on his left hand.]

[mortestmamere]

[Tralalala, hello, Lou. She sweeps over to sit beside him. She prods the back of his hand thoughtfully.]

The true sign of love, certainly.

[ituncleared]

[He... thinks he recognizes that voice (once he's done staring at the outfit) and the shape of her mouth, but you can never be sure, can you.]

... I'd like my hand back, please.

[mortestmamere]

How polite.

[...which, despite that, she doesn't give his hand back, turning it over to examine his palm idly.]

[ituncleared]

[FOILED PT2]

Christine, isn't it.

[mortestmamere]

[Her nails run along the lines of his palm lightly, head tilting. It takes her a minute to realize he's said anything.]

What was that?

[ituncleared]

[The sigh is accompanied by smoke. He's going to slide his hand away now, thank you.]

I was asking if your name is Christine.

[mortestmamere]

You know it is.

[A flippant answer.]

[ituncleared]

Well, that explains it.

[He takes another drag, arching his eyebrows with widened eyes, until his expression relaxes into something properly skeptical. She found him. Yay.]

What is your costume supposed to be?

[mortestmamere]

One of the forbidden brides of the faceless slaves in the nameless house of the night of dread desire.

[Fuck yeah I stole that straight from the title of a Neil Gaiman short.]

And who are you impersonating today?

[ituncleared]

[Thus Christine is getting one of those slow 'whatever you say, honey' looks from him.

And uh.]

Someone who doesn't want to be impersonated?

[mortestmamere]

[Damn right whatever she says.]

My what high aspirations.

[ituncleared]

That's me. [A beat, still not entirely convinced of ... something.] Always aiming high.

[mortestmamere]

[She's silent for a moment before asking rather pointedly,]

What was your name, again?

[ituncleared]

[Silence. He doesn't believe her memory lapse, but he'll humor her anyway.]

Lou.

[mortestmamere]

I think I'm impressed you remember it.