Emillion NPCs (emillionnpcs) wrote in emillion, @ 2013-11-18 09:59:00 |
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Entry tags: | !npc: duke reinholdt, !thread, arabella alaire, arielle chiaro, audrey leradine, damia ravin, genevieve albrecht, miles baines |
“We do not stop playing because we grow old, we grow old because we stop playing!” - Ben Franklin
Who: Reinholdt & OPEN (ARI, BELLA, VIVI, AUD, MILES & LOCH)
What: It’s the Reinholdt edition of Where’s Waldo!
Where: Around Emillion
When: Today
Rating: PG?
Status: In progress
[ The face putty stuck to his chin and cheeks in the most comfortable fashion possible for, well… Face putty. The make-up blended the putty in unison with his skin color quite well, even making him look a bit more tan than normal with an extra bit of blush. Thankfully, he’d worked with the stuff well enough to know its quirks, and the shifting of his jaw assured the SpyMaster that it was indeed set appropriately. The last thing he’d need would be mortifying some poor woman, or man!, with half his ‘chin’ falling off. An arm gestured, wildly slicing through the air as he readied himself for the speaking that was to come with his speaking voice prepped for conversation nearly an octave lower than normal. “That one!” His voice boomed, finger pointing up at the board to indicate his selection for the day in a grandiose flourishing gesture. The shoulder pads in the long sleeved suit jacket, and the layers of clothing worn underneath assured a much bulkier looking frame. Though, he had to wonder as his eyes sparkled, dancing about from underneath the wide brimmed hat if he was perhaps making it a little too easy with such a simple disguise. [ A wild change in costuming found him sitting within the large open room of Hana, a lute positioned carefully in his lap as fingers rolled across the strings with a decade of practiced ease. His other hand shifted, choking up on the neck of the instrument as fingers pressed in for the appropriate chords, holding the strings carefully against the frets. A brief moment of clearing his throat was all that was taken before a low hum emerged, mouth twisting as the glued on mustache tickled underneath his nose. Feeling aptly prepared, he leaned back, mouth opening wide as he sucked in a deep breath before beginning to belt out the lyrics in a cheery tenor. “In days that have long since passed, Singing with a Valendian accent was quite the challenge! [ Eyes remained glued to the ground, the deeply greyed wig causing long spindly strands of hair to fall down around his face, and the haggard beard attached to his chin looked nearly unkempt with age. Half bent over, his clothes were ragged around the edges, and a pack upon his hunched back only added to the downtrodden presence the guildmaster managed to maintain. His normal pride filled stride had been cut back to an elderly hobble, and the SpyMaster’s weight leaned heavily on a cane as he limped down the walkway in the Aerodome. Reinholdt’s normal stride would easily have him clearing this simple path in mere minutes, at this pace, it would take him at least half an hour. And really, with airships flying overhead, and people buzzing about hurriedly, that was all the better. [ Considering the day he’d had thus far, it was clearly time for a ‘break’. That break, of course, would require a meal of some sort. Running about dressed up in various costumes and gear, preforming and tricking this person and that, made life fun, exciting even! Yet, it did not mean he couldn’t use a break. Stripped down to a standard suit, and an atrocious orange waist coat with bright green stitching, he sat comfortably at one of the tables. It would make sense to meet here, it wasn’t as if it could do anything worse to either of their names. One of the server’s came by and a bright smile was offered. “My bright boy, I must request, with remorse, to fletch a few more moments before placing my particularly peculiar order, if you don’t mind?” He’d need at least that long before his guest arrived. “Come one, come all! I assure I can undoubtedly guess the card you choose, don’t believe me? Give it a try! I’ll make them appear, disappear and reappear before your very eyes!” This time, the wig was jet black, the make up on his face made him appear paler than his normal complexion, his outfit was painfully flamboyant with bright splashes of color and frills, and hands worked quickly, shuffling, bridging, cutting, and repeating the motions with various tricks and alternative means of mixing the deck thrown in simply for good measure. “You! Wouldn’t you wish to try your luck with the Great Gonzonieo! The master of card magic! The debonair of the deck!” Reinholdt’s nose upturned at the case of sweets and delicacies laid out before him. “Do you not have something… Better?” His voice held an uppity tone accompanied with a thick Kerwonish accent, his eyes judgmental and his mouth pulled into a fine line. This disguise had him dressed to the nines. The man would look as though he was about to attend a black tie event, though shocks of bright red hair snuck out from under the top hat adorned upon his head. White gloved fingers rose, stroking over the red goatee around his chin and upper lip, as a finger extended out, gesturing in a jerky motion upon a limp wrist. Even though the Spy Master standardly wasn’t the type to play up his privileged heritage, to look down upon others or be persnickety about, well, anything… This persona, the grand duke Alfonso from Kerwon was. |