LIKE SEA FOAM CLINGING TO THE ROLLING LIP OF AN OCEAN'S WAVE, sadness seems to hold a firm place in corinne's eyes just the same. large and round, he supposes there's no such thing as hiding much with eyes like those, at least not to someone who could recognize her particular brand of suffering as something similar (albeit far more fresh) to his own. mourners could see each other in crowds, he surmises that over time there was something different about a person who had lost someone too soon. a heaviness. a scar. something formed deep down to the marrow of the bone with a grasp that refused to ransom it's hold. her clearly cold coffee, an afterthought that fills theo in the next moment; she'd been here a while then.
" you know what? i'd like that — " rather than returning to a hollow house with hollow walls, he finds he'd much prefer the company of another human being over that of the bountiful snores gurgi let out during his second morning nap. love the dog as he might, saving him from his loneliness time after time again, there was something about conversation he'd craved since he was small and had first lost his parents. " do you mind if i take a seat here then? i don't have much, shouldn't impose on your work. "
her head is buried down in her work as theo approaches with herself none-the-wiser until he speaks up ; an open shakespearian novel propped open in the middle of its story on one side of her and sheets yet to be filled with music notes spread out on the other. it had become an odd dream of hers, to write her very own melody inspired by the words of those great authors she had often heard her father read to her as a young girl — and now with her feet planted faintly back upon earth, corinne can at least try to study as she grieves.
hearing an only-vaguely familiar voice, she glances upwards with those ever-melancholic looking doe eyes, the smile upon her lips to greet him not quite radiating as it was could. “ oh, hello… theo, right? ” hinting towards the counter with a quick glimpse in that direction, she’s silently asking if her association is correct. shying away from the world had isolated her more than she had expected. but she offers an awkward laugh nonetheless with a gentle nod of her head, reaching for the turning-cold cup of tea sat before her. “ yes — i thought i should perhaps just order a few things at once, just so i can snack as i work and not keep disturbing the staff all morning… would you care to join me? ”
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WHERE SECRET PASSIONS LIE, SEIG'S ... well, it lands between the artfully placed strokes of paint on canvas. he could spend hours staring at one painting, finding himself drawn to a particular one of a swan on a lake, an abnormal amount of time. the effects this night had on them all surely brought to the surface many memories they all seemingly passed off for dreams, but confronted by that painting once more hung above the sign up sheets, seig can't help but feel a tickle of truth climbing up the nape of his neck.
a laugh escapes the former princes throat, warm and full, tinged at it's edges with the effects of the drinks served tonight on silver platters traversing the floor. he appreciated the other's words, truly, he did— but the idea of finding himself on a stage, like he was fourteen again and dragged onto the stage of a high school drama production, has amusement flourishing in his lungs. it's been a long time since he's stepped foot into a theater, and though he often fixed props for the owner, he would likely not do it for some long time.
" you've got the wrong man, i assure you. " holding out his hand in greeting, seigfried knows that though he might likely know the stranger beneath the mask before him, tonight they are just passing ships. " seig. " he introduces, the repair worker as he is most commonly known, having felt such a welcoming presence deserved to at least know his name, defeating the purpose of the ball or not.
Open Starter || Emerald City Art Gallery ||
Ezekiel had always had a secret love for the arts and musicals so he was fairly excited about tonight. It was a night that actually warranted him to dress more fancy than his usual gym clothes and comfy hoodies so he decided to really push the boat out. Donning a flashy orange and black coloured tuxedo and a similar coloured mask he arrived a little late. Grabbing a drink from the bar and spotting the sign up sheet for the musical at the centre of the room.
He had never thought of himself as musically, choreographically or in any way artistically gifted, but he'd always wanted to be on stage, and he'd also do anything to help out in other ways. As he put his name down on the page he turned and looked to the person stood by, not paying much attention by the looks of it.
"So are you signing up? I could definitely see you starring in a musical." He said honestly. Taking a swig of his drink, knowing the alcohol was already getting to him.
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" A MINOTAUR? YOU'LL HAVE TO TELL ME MORE. " DESPITE HIS PREVIOUS ENCOUNTERS WITH MAGICAL BEINGS, jack's face begins to show the whispers of a growing smile. his scars may be long and deep, the bean stalk having never quite abandoned it's grasp on his bones, but jack– if one thing and one thing only, was no coward in the face of things he did not understand. reaching out to take the hand, this time shedding his hesitance for something almost foreign, digits recognize almost immediately that the other too held a sword same as his own. it brought to jack comfort, in an odd way, that steel knew a home in these hands as they did in his own. he'd rather be amongst people the same as his new confidant than he would others, though not out of some kind of judgement rather than an inability to relate. " i hope you still have most feeling in your feet after an endeavor like that, you'll have to lead if you don't mind. " for where two feet knew to dance around giants, the rusted point of an old sword making homes in the soft spots of gargantuan legs, he did not know how to dance when held by the hands of another. though his king had taken jack under his wing, lessons of various kinds often offered, they were equally as often declined. swaying to the orchestra was as much as jack could offer on his own, but perhaps lead by the hands of his masked and newly minted companion, he might know something other than the occasional rock back and fourth.
Propriety demands that Peter carefully averts his eyes as the other man frets with his sleeves, evenly holding his gaze as if he hasn't noticed it at all. Drawing attention to a person's nerves is rarely a productive endeavour and, in this case, the person in question is a complete stranger... or at least, Peter thinks so, he doesn't recognise the man's voice, and his mask is certainly doing its job.
"Then I hope you'll be understanding if I do the same," Peter replies, the tilt of his mouth encouraging as he holds out his hand for his prospective companion to take. He's not a bad dancer by any means, but he's always felt more at home on the battlefield than in the ballroom, and with the mantle of High King stripped away, he suspects people will be less forgiving of his flaws. "If it comforts you any, my last dance partner was a minotaur, and I'm pleased to report that, in spite of our best efforts, both parties made it out of the celebrations unscathed." A difficult feat, when one of you has hooves.
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𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐳𝐨 𝐳𝐮𝐫𝐳𝐨𝐥𝐨 during an interview for 𝒏𝒆𝒕𝒇𝒍𝒊𝒙 𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒂
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THE KINGDOM JACK IS FROM, THOUGH NOT AS GRAND AS KING MIDAS', was large nonetheless. sitting on a flat plain of land stretching as far as the eye can see, the tall stone walls surrounded by emerald blades of grass standing at the height of a grown man's waist, in the summer time looked like an ocean of greenery sweeping in waves with the wind. though it had been years now, and the kingdom had recovered from the bean stalk's fall- scars still linger in the south of the enceinte ( the border which surrounds the kingdom ). where some had blamed jack for the incident, others praised him– like the king. he'd only been a young boy at the time of the incident, but the title giant slayer had yet to leave him; hence his invitation here alongside his king and queen, their children, and members of the guard. with the masks keeping their identities tucked carefully under feathers & gauze, at least for the night the young man can escape it, but his hands? his hands tell stories which the mask cannot hide.
it's odd, his king had once told him, that jack could face giants but not people— a nervous tick of his, to use his calloused and scarred hands, to hold the cuff of his sleeve and twist the pressed fabric within his grasp. yet as the stranger before him speaks, he cannot help but find his words are lost ; a bit of bafflement flickering through his eyes if only for a moment, and not meant as an insult to the other's proposition but rather ... amazement at the question in general as the wall which both men had blended into for temporary sanctuary, was now being torn away from them. " .... i'd probably step on your feet— " yet, glancing to shifting bodies which dance to a carefully chosen ballad, the mask protecting him from their eyes, he thinks: why not ?
where: king midas’s palace
when: evening
with: open
The High King of Narnia rarely ventures beyond his own borders these days. Aside from the fact that there’s always something of importance that requires his attention at home, international relations are far better handled by his sister, Susan, whose genteel manners and supply of patience far exceed his own. Still, an occasion such as King Midas’s twentieth jubilee called for nothing less than the presence of all four Pevensie siblings, though where the other three have vanished off to in the hour since their arrival, Peter couldn’t say.
Left to his own devices, he quickly grows tired of standing idle (though he’s long-since learned to resist the urge to fidget), and turns to the person beside him, a warm smile visible from beneath his golden mask. “Forgive me for being forward, but would you like to dance? It turns out I’m rather unsuited to playing the wallflower, and would be extremely grateful for the diversion,” Peter admits with a chuckle.
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" OH, HIS NAME? IT'S GURGI. " THE DOG IN QUESTION BARKS, as if to announce his presence between theo's feet, tail thumping against the sidewalk with reckless abandon. it had already been two years with the dog as his companion, gurgi having been found by theo outside in the alleyway dumpster of the princess and the pie. he could only guess how old the mutt was now, probably around three or four as he was no pup when the waiter had found him struggling to get his snout out of a jar. still, the dog wasn't old quite yet, spry in his steps as he leaps from beneath theo's feet to greet the other. " oh, whoa! hey now, gurgs. sorry about that, he gets excited. "
OPEN STARTER, LOCATION: THE LOCAL DOG PARK. TIME: FLEXIBLE.
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Ravi first thing in the morning (。♥‿♥。)
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It's okay if you are not what they think you are.
Sadia Hakim
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" NOT YOUR USUAL TODAY, HM? " staring down at the breakfast platter spread before corinne with mild intrigue, he stands at her side in the isle between the bustling counters and seating section with a brown paper bag in hand. it's contents were fairly habitual; a go - to sandwich he'd get on his breaks, and like today, on his days off. while he might know her by name, only because of her signature scrawled onto the thin paper of the receipts she'd leave behind, that was all he knew about her. otherwise the woman was a mystery, though a kind one, like a hint of sunlight peering through the clouds.
CLOSED STARTER ... @grimmtale : THEO & CORINNE.
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TOM HOLLAND in UNCHARTED
2022 | dir. Ruben Fleischer
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seigfried had to admit that compared to most days, tonight his mind was awash with violent waves of both nostalgia & a bitter longing both of which he didn't understand— nor could he identify the source of. seeing a familiar face put some of those feelings to rest, easing the startling storm in his head; the more wyatt spoke, the more seig could detach himself from such feelings. plastering a soft smile on his lips, the man looks down to the silk dress shirt he bares over his chest, cinched at his waist. who was he trying to impress? well, seigfried supposes there is only one answer ( one person ) — dia. she was the only person in his life he was truly hung up over. something about their parting, to put it nicely, leaving a cold chill that had never quite left seig. " just trying to show a good face is all it is. and you? who's got you in a snare, anyone you haven't told me about? "
𝐟𝐭 . seigfried eaton ( @storybroke )
" seigfried. " wyatt greets in turn, " don't you look rather polished. looking to impress someone? " they glance to their friend's attire with traces of amusement and contentment in both their eyes and tone. the pair have known one another long enough for his friend to know of their rather finicky tastes, and so wyatt is pleased to see he's not even mildly offended. well, perhaps at one aspect. " no glitter? after all this time i hoped to have worn off on you. "
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jack had to admit that he had not spent much time reading edgar allen poe, or much classical literature (of any real genre) outside of what had been put on his summer reading list for his online classes. that being said, he can at least understand the tonality which was heavily imbued within the authors writing, and agree with the woman's sentiment of not wishing this particular masquerade ball to be a repeat of any of edgar's writings. still, the warning in her words weighs heavily, edging there on something that jack had not seen before. anyone could do what they wanted here, tonight, in this place ... " well you don't have to worry then. all i've got planned is to drink a little and quietly make my escape— this isn't exactly my kind of thing. "
It was odd, during her life she had probably been in this room thousands of times, and yet done like this she didn't recognise it. It was beautifully done, something she was unsure if they'd ever be able to repeat. "Wonder where they got the inspiration from. Only masquerade story I can think of, is that Edgar Allen Poe one... I hope it isn't based on that" she added with a soft laugh. "Oh, good question" one she hadn't thought that much about. All of this was just for the night, after this she'd likely never consider them again. "They are all very beautiful. Though I can't help but think some people seem to believe it makes them completely unrecognisable and they can do whatever they wish" that felt more dangerous.
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there is something itching under his skin, clawing under the surface as if trying to escape a prison of flesh and bone ... he can feel it climbing up his ribs like the rung of a ladder ( a child on a bean stalk ) ; swelling soon beneath his breast bone. don't let them talk down to you, not here: a voice says to him, unfamiliar yet arousing a nostalgic feeling within him. " sorry, " the word which escapes his lips is spoken with little truth, " i don't think i remember asking for your two-bit advice. " eyes sharpen from beneath the mask as he speaks, so much for trying to start a conversation.
" it's warm? that's the best you've got? " auggie practically challenges, though he wasn't quite sure as to why considering he was barely interested in starting up a conversation with anyone in the first place. the bleach blonde was more than content with their spot at the bar, nursing the same drink they'd ordered three times now in the short span of time he'd been at the shindig. he wasn't sure why he even came, other than for the booze, which he could've enjoyed from home anyway. " word of advice, no one came here for bad small talk. "
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𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐳𝐨 𝐳𝐮𝐫𝐳𝐨𝐥𝐨 during an interview for 𝒏𝒆𝒕𝒇𝒍𝒊𝒙 𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒂
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