Re: Dawn's visitation threaddemon_andbutlerJuly 8 2011, 04:55:42 UTC
[And he might be standing outside her cell, holding a cake that he hopes will personify "Sorry you've been incarcerated." ...Maybe he was working off Elizabeth's penchant for cuteness a little bit as inspiration.
[So that the ridiculous exercise of sculpting a rabbit out of icing wouldn't be in vain.]
No, it will not.
[So watch as he drops deftly to one knee, placing the cake on the floor. From his sleeves slid utensils, a fork and a knife specifically, a lot like they did on that day he won the melee. And he reveals a small plate from the inside lapel pocket of his tailcoat. Without further ado he cuts a slice, with abnormal grace, even though it's the first piece of a cake which is always the most difficult. The inside is white with strawberry filling.
He arranges the slice on the plate: cake, to its right the fork, balancing delicately at the edge. He pulls a napkin out of his pocket as well, places it under the plate, and then, still kneeling, reaches through the bars, extending his long arm so that the cake can almost reach Dawn without requiring her to move.
Bella's visitation threadlestrangestoneJuly 8 2011, 02:13:51 UTC
[Glaring haughtily through the bars at whoever is (un)lucky enough to be guarding her. It wouldn't be wrong to assume she is wishing fiery death upon them. That's the reason she's smiling now, in fact.]
Re: Bella's visitation thread // WHAT CHILD IS THIS?teethandtonicJuly 8 2011, 05:46:27 UTC
[No, you don't know the little lad walking up to your cell. Never seen him in your life, and likely won't see him again after this. His round face is smudged with dirt, grime, his hair oily and sticking out every which way. Those clothes are nothing remarkable-- a ratty jacket, slacks that look like they were sewn from potato sacks, and shoddy leather shoes.
One thing is for certain: he's been kicked around.
Nervous, approaching the woman as a rabbit approaches a sleeping bobcat, barren black eyes lock on hers. He stops a few inches away from her enclosure, leans down, and drops a small bouquet of honeysuckle as close to the cage as he can without earning a warning glare from the guard.]
M-my lady-- [he begins, stuttering at first before sucking in a breath, blurting out the rest] -- he thanks you for the outing, and wishes you well during your stay here. He says he's sorry you're being inconvenienced. [pause] But he's confident in your perseverance. Prays you good fortune.
[and he merely stares, unsure of what to do now,
( ... )
[THIS WOULD BE SAID GUARD, lucky you. Who is... seated on a stool across the hallway, arms folded. His eyes narrow, but for now he's just watching out of the corner of his eye.]
[Yeah, and this kid totally sees you, too, though more as an escape route/saviour than a hindrance to his cause.
Too bad the only thing running through his head right now is "can't scream, clown will eat me". As such, from here on out he's keeping his eyes straight ahead.]
JAILBREAK! /whistles for Remnants!lestrangestoneJuly 8 2011, 02:29:15 UTC
[Oh, look. There's something the guards missed. Is that the glint of metal beneath her skirts as she sits, watching her current guard poke at the pie she'd so generously given over.
She just can't eat, you see - because she is so consumed with remorse for her crimes.
The guard, however, isn't that smart. Had there been an emergency to be dealt with that suddenly called away the more intelligent (and challenging) watchmen? No matter. She'll silently gloat as the man gives over to temptation. The shifts are overlong and warm food is a comfort, especially when it's freshly baked, and she briefly wonders if they knew each other - these men on either side of a pie.
(Wouldn't that be something?)
She knows the meat is human. Doesn't care.
Well, that's not true. She's smiling more than usual as she watches silently, the gleam of the gun as of yet undetected within the folds of inky fabric.
Revenge is a dish best served at room temperature, apparently.]
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No file inside, however, unfortunately for Dawn.]
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You brought me a cake.
[Small smile.]
I like the bunny.
[Blink.]
It won't fit through the bars.
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[He smiles.]
I'm glad.
[So that the ridiculous exercise of sculpting a rabbit out of icing wouldn't be in vain.]
No, it will not.
[So watch as he drops deftly to one knee, placing the cake on the floor. From his sleeves slid utensils, a fork and a knife specifically, a lot like they did on that day he won the melee. And he reveals a small plate from the inside lapel pocket of his tailcoat. Without further ado he cuts a slice, with abnormal grace, even though it's the first piece of a cake which is always the most difficult. The inside is white with strawberry filling.
He arranges the slice on the plate: cake, to its right the fork, balancing delicately at the edge. He pulls a napkin out of his pocket as well, places it under the plate, and then, still kneeling, reaches through the bars, extending his long arm so that the cake can almost reach Dawn without requiring her to move.
Almost, but not quite.]
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One thing is for certain: he's been kicked around.
Nervous, approaching the woman as a rabbit approaches a sleeping bobcat, barren black eyes lock on hers. He stops a few inches away from her enclosure, leans down, and drops a small bouquet of honeysuckle as close to the cage as he can without earning a warning glare from the guard.]
M-my lady-- [he begins, stuttering at first before sucking in a breath, blurting out the rest] -- he thanks you for the outing, and wishes you well during your stay here. He says he's sorry you're being inconvenienced. [pause] But he's confident in your perseverance. Prays you good fortune.
[and he merely stares, unsure of what to do now, ( ... )
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Too bad the only thing running through his head right now is "can't scream, clown will eat me". As such, from here on out he's keeping his eyes straight ahead.]
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Freya?
[She looks shocked to see you here.]
You're on the wrong side of the...
...what are you doing here?
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...is that you, Dawn?
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[...]
---sorry. I'm a little, uh. That's a weird place for them to make a visitor wait, why didn't they just---
---what's going on?
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She just can't eat, you see - because she is so consumed with remorse for her crimes.
The guard, however, isn't that smart. Had there been an emergency to be dealt with that suddenly called away the more intelligent (and challenging) watchmen? No matter. She'll silently gloat as the man gives over to temptation. The shifts are overlong and warm food is a comfort, especially when it's freshly baked, and she briefly wonders if they knew each other - these men on either side of a pie.
(Wouldn't that be something?)
She knows the meat is human. Doesn't care.
Well, that's not true. She's smiling more than usual as she watches silently, the gleam of the gun as of yet undetected within the folds of inky fabric.
Revenge is a dish best served at room temperature, apparently.]
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