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[Aug. 17th, 2010|07:03 pm] |
Who: Mephisto & April
Where: some art museum in London
What: totally not a date except it kind of is!
When: Wednesday.
Warnings: human!Meph is oddly less prone to strange fits of growling? Iunno. TBD.
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[Aug. 11th, 2010|06:22 pm] |
WHO: April Foster and Mephistopheles
WHAT: Good company, and indulging Meph's vanity with charcoals.
WHERE: April's Swansea flat
WARNINGS: Uh... potential unexpected adorability?
It wasn't as if April thought it was necessary to clean herself up with Mephisto on the way, but the thought of sprawling on her sofa chatting with him in her dinosaur-print PJs was a little... awkward. So the moment she confirmed him coming, she scrambled to pull some clothes on - just jeans and a t-shirt, nothing fancy - and pull her hair up in a ponytail.
She put the kettle on (though she still wasn't entirely sure if he didn't or couldn't drink anything, she wanted some, and she might as well be prepared in case he could and would) and set about to figuring out where her sketchbook had gone in the mild clutter of books and art supplies. |
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[Jun. 9th, 2010|12:02 am] |
WHO: Miniver Cheevy, Napalm Wartooth, Kitt, and possibly others at a later time
WHAT: Sort of an intervention.
WHERE: The Sign of the Weasel
WHEN: Tonight!
WARNINGS: The usual crass language and refrences to various forms of debauchery but probably nothing graphic.
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Hong Kong to London is just a portkey ride away, and very shortly after picking him up from the hotel, Miniver leads Kitt down the narrow sidestreet and into his daughter's shop -- The Sign of the Weasel, a ramshackle place with a hand-painted sign above the door showing a ferret, and a front window stocked with piles of old books.
The inside is like a burrow built from books. A wide counter stands in front of the door, staffed by a sort of spacy-looking cowboy who pays little attention to them as they enter. Behind the counter, a stairway leads up to a catwalk that circles half of the main floor, making it two storeys up to the ceiling. The raised walkway is dark, but from where they stand, there can be seen piles of blankets and pillows punctuated by lamps (some lit, some not) and tiny side-tables, some with radios or tiny televisions on them. A series of nests.
The main floor is a labyrinth of shelves. Dead ends contain beanbags or armchairs or cushioned window ledges. A fireplace kept well away from any of the shelves is kept at a low burn even in the summer months. A chickenwire tunnel makes its way from a hole in the ceiling into the stacks and disappears, its purpose not immediately clear. And there are people here -- perhaps two dozen somewhere in the shop, ranging in appearance from heavyset, leather-clad, tattooed men to young students to elderly professors, hippies, goths, a guy with a skateboard... it's a veritable costume party.
Miniver gives Kitt a few moments to look around before speaking. "So. Do you want a tour or would you rather go sit down somewhere? Palm oughta be here somewhere, too..." |
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[Apr. 19th, 2010|08:16 pm] |
WHO: Miniver Cheevy and April Foster
WHAT: Sibling reunion!
WHEN: Now!
WHERE: Wales and probably also London
WARNINGS: None!
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Though Miniver had arrived in this world rather incapable of many things, and in many ways has improved little in the two years or so he's spent here, one thing he could always do was bounce around the world using Portkeys like an old pro... one of the few good things he'd taken away from his first lover, so many years ago.
So after talking to April, he zips over to Wales and RUNS the rest of the way from the portkey to her address, tearing through the building to her door where finally he knocks, breathing hard.
He's different from how she'd remember him. His hair is much longer, falling in black curls half way down his back, with a few strands of grey showing. He wears a beard now, and a perpetual camel-colored trenchcoat a size or two too large for him. His face has more lines on it than it did, but his eyes are the same sad blue eyes, and he's still small and compact and fidgety. Though it's not something he's aware of, he wears his age well -- some men lose their looks after their college years, and some are like Miniver, awkwardly-shaped youths who grow into a different kind of beauty. He's 40 now, and looks it, but not in a winding-down middle-aged way. |
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