[Unlike yesterday, the house today is lovely, a fit atmosphere for a tea party~ The doors are wide open and anyone who wanders won't be pushed out. For now. All of the rooms are free for perusal, except two, and the living room is home to a long table, fitted with a tablecloth, as well as a platter of cakes. The room is helpfully lit up by the many floating candles hovering in the air. Just don't go touching them or you'll accidentally cut yourself~]

[ooc: Road will be mingling with everyone, and there will be a tag for your character to tag her! Sorry for the late! anyone can tag! even the people who didn't respond to Road's invitation post! /o/ get those ac threads ENJOY]

[ the video feed sparks to life, and there's alois trancy's little face in it. he's twinkle-eyed and beaming. ]

Hullo, [ he tweets, with certain satisfaction. nothing too out of the ordinary—that is except for the sure-to-be wicked bruise forming his on right cheek, just under his eye. it's a swollen cherry-pink welt right now, but it'll flourish into unbecoming blacks, purples, and green-yellows within a few hours or so. ]

I dreamt last night. [ this is his sneaky way of saying, 'I slept long enough to have a dream last night.'

as he speaks, bits of his fringe keep billowing up by kinetic wind, before they float back down. the sound of rushing metal scraping against cement announces itself now and then. ] Usually, I would share it with Claude, but well— [ saccharine smile. ] He isn't fucking here.

But— [ ah, another momentary pause so he can twirl around backside first. ] I was thinking, sometimes it's fun to try and figure out what stupid shit your head is trying to tell—

Whoa! [ his face becomes unsteady, for less than half a second his eyes grow wide, that quick metal sound is gone, and then thud. now, the camera gets a shot of side walk and some blades of grass. there's some shuffling noises, and alois reappears, looking undeniably disheveled. ] Anyhow, why don't we talk about dreams?

Tell me yours, if you had any, and if you want to know mine—[ hint, hint. ;_; ]—then say so.




(ooc: optional action post, because he's all over having a time with his new roller skates. also, if you do come up on him, please note that he's all battered up because he ... k- keeps falling and wheeling himself right into things. u_u)

Life is not like you see in movies. It's not a matter of happily ever afters and things working out perfectly in the end, and in school, they don't even teach you the things you really need to know about life.

I think that's what parents are for, supposedly.

[Sometimes when things seem to be going horribly, he can sit down and figure things out.

But this... this has been such a huge struggle for him, and has made him spend most of his day thinking and unable to focus on anything else.]

Schools don't teach you what you're supposed to do when you love two things, but can only save one, just like they don't teach you what you're supposed to do when two people love one thing, and only one can have the thing. They don't really teach you how to treat other people, and they don't teach you exactly what you should know about the real world.

Pisses me off.

[It's getting late, but Kurama isn't in bed. Instead, he's taking a walk out in the snow, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. He seems perfectly at ease despite having been in Marina for only a few days. He's still anxious to be home, but he's also patient. If Acumen is indeed pulling individuals from different times as well as different places, it's possible that, no matter how many days or months or even years it might take Kurama to return to his family, he may be able to rejoin them mere moments after he was initially taken out of his reality. The more pressing question is not when he will return, but how.

In the meantime, Kurama will learn what he can of Marina and his fellow inmates. Even the smallest, most innocuous piece of information might prove useful in the future.

Kurama's steps take him to the large cherry tree in Sector Four. He pauses and tips his head back to look up at the overhanging boughs.]

How thoughtful of the warden to provide us with these small touches of nature when it could just as easily have left this prison barren.