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G. M. Dark (illustratedman) wrote in wariscoming,

Mr. Dark regretted--well as close to regret as a man like he could get--that the carnival had never stopped in Lawrence, Kansas before. It was chalk full of little mishaps and marvelous adventures to make the world weep were they but aware of it. It was so delightful! With the recent death of .. who had it been? Irene Adler? The people of Lawrence, at least the Seal-born ones, were up in arms and reeking of personal little despairs, worries and numerous other emotions that seeped into Dark's obsidian little heart. It was the stuff of nightmares that he fed on, and found his strength.

Why, the carnival would bloom here.. and with the potential of adding Haly's Circus. Well, it would be a downright glorious little show. Now, if only Mr. Cooger would make his appearance. Perhaps he was better off in whatever pit Hell had dragged him into finally... Mr. Grayson could take his place at any rate.

Mr. Dark hummed a cheerful little tune and wandered across the lawn, using his cane as an impromptu walking stick. He was dressed in a very Edwardian era suit of black slacks and tailcoat and tie, with a red vest and a white button down oxford shirt. His cufflinks were silver skulls, and from his pocket linked a pocketwatch. Atop his head sat a tall, wide rimmed top-hat. He wore gloves of black leather and carried a thin, dark cane. It was all for the show, after all, and telling of the era that Dark was born in. It was just a touch dramatic, which made being the proprietor of a carnival all that much more endearing to the good people of the world.

Still humming his tune, Dark pulled out his pocket watch, checking the time against the backdrop of the streetlights.

"My, Mr. Grayson, you're not quite late. We'll see.." he spoke to the air as he gracefully pushed the watch back into his vest pocket.