in this town, don't we love it now

[afoolsgold]

Characters: The Fool, Klaus, Devin, Rutile, Trahearne + you!
Date: Early October
Location: Throughout Aifaran; specifically, the Fool’s apartment, Die Rosa Tulpe.
Situation: A catch-all for October.
Warnings/Rating: None, will update as needed.




I. Some Uninvited Guests (Die Rosa Tulpe; Open + Klaus)

On a bright, early tropical morning when the Fool ventures downstairs to set up his display table for the day, he hardly makes it three steps beyond the stairs when he trips over--a pumpkin? Startled, he nimbly skirts beside it, catching himself against one of the cafe tables, and then looks after it, shocked.

“What--?” he begins, but the rest of his exclamation tapers off abruptly as he takes in the sight before him: Die Rosa Tulpe, besieged by--well, small gourd people.

Dealing with this mess is evidently his task for the day, so whomever happens upon the cafe today will be greeted by this spectacle. Enjoy.


II. Rude Awakening (The Fool's apartment; closed to Devin)

The change to the Fool’s relationship with Devin has his heart singing even when he and his paramour aren’t in each other’s company--but there are few joys in life more fulfilling than waking up beside the object of one’s affections. That is the Fool’s prevailing thought as he comes to one morning, peering across the blankets at Devin’s profile with the tiniest of smiles curling up the corner of his lips.

His second thought arrives abruptly, and is far less pleasant: they aren’t alone in the bedroom.

Seated at the foot of the Fool’s bed is a small child with uncanny, unnaturally exaggerated features, and it’s looking right at the pair of them.

The Fool stares back at it, then takes a breath. “Devin,” he begins rather too cautiously, “don’t be alarmed.” That’s always a good way to begin a conversation, isn’t it?


III. A Business Arrangement (Die Rosa Tulpe; Open + Rutile)

At some indeterminate point early in the month after the pumpkin pests are dealt with and the Dreaming Sickness is no longer a constant drain on his energy, the Fool is at last able to redirect his attention to his chosen vocation here in Aifaran: his woodcarving.

(And prophesying the future but--well. That gift doesn’t pay the rent.)

His latest pieces are staggeringly intricate; small posies that could have been plucked from a garden, were they not clearly of wood grain and solid to the touch; a bird upon a nest, its folded wings deceptively soft. There are many others, of course--all for sale.


IV. The Messenger (closed to Trahearne)

[in the middle of the night early on in October, Trahearne will receive a peculiar text message from the Fool.]

I have something important to tell you.

[a span of a few moments, and then another message follows:]

I think.
 

Comments

[afoolsgold]

At that question, his melancholic expression gives way to something cheekier--though of course he can't divulge the most interesting of his stories, at least not yet. (Not without Devin's permission.) Instead, he replies lightly, "None more interesting than the one we find ourselves enmeshed in, I daresay. But I will take an apricot, if you will part with one." He flourishes a hand at the empty seat across from him, inviting her to sit and keep him company while he works.

[ilda]

Well, that’s true. There is nothing more interesting than this island adventure.

With that excited energy of hers, Ilda takes the offered seat, and holds out an apricot in return. She’s really just kidding about trading the apricots for stories, as she’s content to watch while the Fool does his work.

“You’re really so very talented, Mister Fool!” The compliment is genuine, even if she sounds as chipper as she usually does. “Where do you get the ideas for all these?”

[afoolsgold]

Pleased, he accepts the fruit and gazes at it with a curious twist to his lips; really, who could look at an apricot and be stirred to such melancholy? He sighs airily and sets it down on his table, well away from the delicate-looking carving of a crane that is before him on his table. Nearby is a small canister of varnish, and a cloth for applying it to the wood grain.

“You’re really so very talented, Mister Fool! Where do you get the ideas for all these?”

"In my dreams." He picks up the cloth with his gloved hand and dips it into the varnish, then brings it up to apply a delicate coat of the stuff to the sweeping slope of the wooden bird's neck. Ilda receives another sly look. "Did I tell you I once rode on the back of a dragon? Into a battle, no less."

[ilda]

Ilda rests her forearms on the edge of the table, resting her chin on top of them in turn. She loves stories, especially a good story, and while she seems to have the ability to talk non-stop, she can also be a very good listener. At certain times.

Her eyes dart back and forth between the Fool and his carving, interested both in what he’s doing and what he’s saying. “In your dreams? Really?” She knows she has quite the imagination, but if that’s translated to her dreams, she doesn’t know. She barely remembers them, and those she does remember aren’t the good ones. “Whoaaaa! A dragon battle? That is so cool.”

[afoolsgold]

He laughs quietly at her response, sparing her another little glance before he returns his attention to his work. The varnish brings out the smoothened lines of the woodgrain in the carved crane's neck... as well as the startling detail work that has rendered the feathers of its wings. The Fool turns the little carving just so in order to pay proper attention to one of its slender legs.

"It was a terrifying experience," he admits wryly, applying more of the varnish. "I was little more than a child myself at the time, though I entertained delusions of being far older and cleverer than I was. But yes," he sighs, "a dragon battle, to save the Six Duchies from the Red Ship Raiders, and from the rule of Regal the Pretender."

There follows a slight pause as he focuses on his work, before he remarks quietly, almost wistfully, "I cannot say that good shall always triumph over evil, but it did that day."