(Untitled)

[picksthelosers]

Her dress is torn. To be frank, tattered would be a better word for it.

She doesn’t really care. Dresses are just bits cloth, no matter how they’re fashioned1. There’s a cigarette in her left hand and she sitting just a few feet from what she had, a few minutes earlier, stubbed her toe on in the sand

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[apocralyptic]

Coin had never in his life understood what he was, and he wasn't starting now, but he was walking the beach for about the third time that day because the sea's voice was loud enough to drown out another voice's silence and there had been more glass today, too, though he was pretty sure he'd got all of it by now.

Still, he hadn't seen her for a while, and new things had happened and people who were people liked to tell gods things, didn't they? But as he approached he realized she was already talking, so he supposed there was something she would rather talk about, and that was all right.

"What means that?" he wondered. She could be as hard to understand as he was, sometimes.

[picksthelosers]

She turns her head towards Coin, half turning the crown to face him, a smile on her face.

She smiles too easily. Always has, probably always will. "It means something that doesn't mean much of anything these days. Well, it means a bit of something today, but not much."

Things change, a bit like people do.

[apocralyptic]

Coin regarded the crown a bit warily. It wasn't as if he'd really seen many crumbled walls; they'd tended to stay intact or be blown completely away in an instant, one or the other, but there was reality and then there was symbology and it was an edgy thing. She could be wonderful, but he remembered now why she could never be comforting.

Veils, though, veils were a new thing, and he still didn't see what she'd meant. "Is it especially bright today?" he hazarded. "I hadn't noticed."

[picksthelosers]

A slight shake of the head, but the smile stays in place.

"No, not that. Though you're right about brightness." Overly sunny days never did suit. "I'm going to you a story Coin, would you like that?"

[skybot_snd]

Tall. Brunette. Scary as all hells.

The T-1000 knew he'd have to come across her eventually. But the Commander had failed to mention Luck being so... well, hot. It wasn't an accurate description, though. It was far more elusive than that. He supposed that was the point.

He'd expected her to be different. And not. He wasn't sure what he'd expected, really.

But he knew it was her.

He watched from some distance, vision shaded by cracked sunglasses lenses, before approaching; his gaze lingered on her for a long while, then shifted over to the items. It was an odd set, but considering its owner, it had every right to be.

"Did you break it?" he asked finally, with a detached sort of curiosity. "The city?"

[picksthelosers]

Frankly, she could couldn't careless about the passers by. People come and go; their objects come and go even faster.

She rubs her thumb over turret that doesn't mean anything, on an object that means something to even fewer and she's barely paying attention.

The question though, makes her laugh. "It's not a real city. And I never break things." She's just the butterfly that starts the storm, not the storm itself.

[skybot_snd]

He wondered whether she'd even registered his existence, until she laughed.

And even afterwards he wasn't sure whether she was talking to him or to the wind.

"Not directly," he agreed with a minimal shrug. As a catalyst, though, she was highly efficient at breaking things. And he knew it wasn't a real city - real cities tended to be larger, generally speaking - but he thought it might have represented one. "It'd be kind of impractical to wear it here," he tilted his head at the crown.

[picksthelosers]

Any one who knows her would tell you that practicality is not what she does. She's the daring gamble, the long stretch. Most people, don't know her. Not very well.

"I never intended to."

She's just looking at it. "Not really at all. It's just a symbol, I'd direct you to those who built it, but they don't exist anymore."

Not really.

[9mmshotglass]

Reese had been wandering with no real purpose. She'd taken the day off from exploring and had been wandering the coastline aimlessly, trying to lose herself. The clothes box had decided her day for her with a deep crimson bikini that tied and left beaded straps dangling against her hips in pale blue. She had to wonder at the not so subtle hint. She'd been taking herself too seriously lat--

She stopped as a voice punctured her thought-fog (Garak would have not approved of her wandering around and not paying attention to her surroundings, not that he'd say that) and her chin jerked toward the noise. Vaguely familiar, not that she could place the voice or the woman who owned it. Despite the urge to keep walking, she stopped.

"A veil?" she repeated, eyebrow arched. "I suppose crowns go with veils...should I know you?" Her brain was slightly off track today. Just slightly. She didn't think she knew the woman. Had to be one of those faces. On a good, long, second look, she was sure she didn't know her.

[picksthelosers]

Naturally, she doesn't skip a beat.

It doesn't matter that she wasn't talking to anyone, that this was a thought being spoken aloud and that when does speak to the women, she's switch mannerisms, having taken a drag on her cigarette and smirked.

"Depends on your ideology. Everyone knows me, it's up to your own personal belief structure as to how well."

Fuck today made her moody and wordy.

[headline_maker]

"You know," Sacharissa said, looking over the objects in the Lady's hands, "I've been thinking the same sort of thing myself. In this heat, though, I may leave off that part. Although, then again, by the time this wedding happens, it may be snowing." It wasn't like William and Maladicta didn't know what she looked like anyway, and she was fairly sure that fell under the restricted category of 'frills and ruffles.'

She offered the Lady a smile, with a curiosity in her expression that the Lady, of all beings, would likely understand and know. "What are they?"

[picksthelosers]

She laughs. It does the trick for that moment, strangely enough.

Then again, strange has always been her thing. "Of course you have, darling. It could be snowing rose petals, which is always lovely and you girls would look better in veils than I ever did."

Though she was a bit more adaptable to them. She scratches her thumbnail against a column. "Relics from an empire. Once upon a time, there was a people who always named me and built cities upon me. This was what I used to wear."

[headline_maker]

"They named you?" Sacharissa couldn't really believe that she'd look better in anything than the Lady did, if only because if it was in Her nature to be good at those sorts of things, but she let it slip in the face of a more surprising statement. "I thought that went against the rules. These are lovely."

[picksthelosers]

She nods.

"In fact, they had so many names for me I think they ran out of notions to fit the words."

It's easy to bend the rules when they were never written down to start with.

"Aren't they? They were a lovely sort of people. In that dirty, strange way. They don't really exist anymore. Not outside of this place, melodramas and history books."

[forged_hero]

"Oh come on now," Moist said, peering around her and trying to get a better look at what she was holding. "Your mug isn't as bad as all that. Mostly. On the good days. What have you got there, Lady?"

[picksthelosers]

She rolls her eyes.

It was only a matter of time before he showed up. It was one of those things worth betting on.

"That was a figure of speech." She turns her head and the crown toward him, smirk on her face. "Should have known that it was only a matter of time before you came, due to the shine and all."

[forged_hero]

"Psht, gold," Moist said disdainfully. He looked curiously at the bundled, weighing, measuring, and pricing it out of habit. "Never really got the point, really. Letters and papers are a lot more fun."

"What is it, do you suppose?" he asked, still trying to get a better look at the bundle.

[picksthelosers]

"And a bit more dangerous."

A secret, a thought, a letter is a thousand times more profitable when used correctly than a bit of metal.

"I don't have to suppose at all." She clears her throught. "It's a cornucopia of plenty, from which the wealth of a city endless flows. The crown is a different story."