(Untitled)

[mechanicalswans]

The figure that steps into the bar tonight, leading a magnificent black warhorse, is a little taller than he usually is, and dressed in fire-burnished bronze armor that looks to be made of a thousand metal feathers. He is pale as moonlight, with eyes that glow with literal starlight, the very picture of an elven king; and he carries at his hip a

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[coreenfennel]

Coreen's sitting out back, trying to get her head cleared, with all the nonsense going on.

Ev's carefully wrapped up against the cold, and is asleep on her lap. As she notices the man and his horse, she looks up at him.

He's almost too shiny, too bright to get a good look at, but there's something very familiar.

"Weyland?"

[mechanicalswans]

He pauses, studying her.

She doesn't look familiar, but there's something about her that feels familiar--

And then, of course, Ev, as the light falls upon him.

"Coreen?"

[coreenfennel]

Coreen looks about as bemused as she possibly can as Donna Summer.

"Nailed it in one," she says, the lilt of the singer's voice carrying a lot differently than her own.

"I used to love Samhain. Love it. But this year? Like this? And Joe's a cartoon character."

She leaves of FML, but it's there. Right under the surface.

[mechanicalswans]

"You don't seem too bad," he says, closing his eyes.

"But I can see how it would be... strange, to have one's loved ones change like that."

[7twistedwishes]

Just outside, a pale figure in ashen gray robes, wearing manacles.

Well, if they are going to look more 'real'... "Hello, dear."

[mechanicalswans]

"My morning star," he says softly, stopping when he sees her.

"Are you--is everything all right?"

[7twistedwishes]

"Oh, after being costumed for the holiday, I felt like being more myself for a while." She gets tired of the endless masks.

[mechanicalswans]

"Does it make you feel more free," he says, "being more like yourself? Or does it feel like yet another wall around yourself, because it will not, and cannot, last?"