Post by illirica on May 15, 2022 23:20:41 GMT
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[attr="style","transform: scaleY(-1);z-index:70;background-image:url(https://imgur.com/l4XNqTJ.png);background-size:20vw;background-repeat:no-repeat;background-position:bottom left;"]
[attr="style","z-index:70;transform: rotate(180deg);background-image:url(https://imgur.com/l4XNqTJ.png);background-size:20vw;background-repeat:no-repeat;background-position:bottom left;"]
[attr="style","transform:ScaleX(-1);z-index:30;padding-left:4vw;padding-right:4vw;padding-top:4vw;padding-bottom:4vw;-webkit-background-clip: text;color: transparent;background-image:url(https://i.pinimg.com/originals/96/36/3c/96363c9337b2d1aad24323b1d9efda72.jpg);background-position:center;font-family:merienda;"]Oh, but this was such a very rushed affair. Vanessa was an absolute dear about the details, of course, but she just didn't have a proper appreciation for the nature of time. Sobriquet had wanted to do oh-so-much more before they'd gotten started, but she had been rather insistent about things. He supposed it was a mortal thing - after all, when they only had a hundred years or a thousand or however long it was these creatures lived... well, they wanted things to be done quickly, and didn't want to spend days or weeks figuring out the right outfit, even if it would have been perfect.
"You know, I have this absolutely lovely ostrich feather cap that would have been perfectly dashing, just the thing for a little bit of murder, you know. Very sweeping, oh the exaggerated gestures I could have made. I could have monologued, my dear, it would have completely fit the attire, but oh - or maybe the other hat, the crown of laurel? Too ostentatious, or just right? I'd have had to see it on... do you know, just the other day I saw the most lovely brocade in a shop and- oh, we're here, aren't we?"
And he had been having such a lovely time of it, too. Ah, but he couldn't complain so much, these mortals simply didn't have the time for a proper appreciation of fashion. Sobriquet set a glamour of the ostrich feather hat upon his head, taking it off almost immediately and waving it distressedly. "Oh, it's just not the same. Well, you can't tell, of course, that's the whole point, but... oh, for a little bit of reality, Vanessa, darling, just for a treat?"
But he supposed they were not here to debate the relative rewardingness of a properly fashionable reality, and so the cap vanished once more into nonexistence. Sobriquet sighed, with all the aeons of stored up drama, and then righted himself once more, as if everything before this very moment had been completely inconsequential. He seemed to draw himself up, but rather somehow managed to draw himself down, a veritable loss of height and youth as his form shifted into that of a weathered crone, dressed in patched servant's livery and with a wicker basket of laundered bedding upon one no-doubt-achy hip.
"Well, then, dearie, I'm off. Don't get your knickers in a knot, hm? He's just not worth it, love!" He tottered off, making his way for the door with more celerity than would have been expected in an old woman, pressing the laundry basket against the manor door and pushing against it until it opened.
"You know, I have this absolutely lovely ostrich feather cap that would have been perfectly dashing, just the thing for a little bit of murder, you know. Very sweeping, oh the exaggerated gestures I could have made. I could have monologued, my dear, it would have completely fit the attire, but oh - or maybe the other hat, the crown of laurel? Too ostentatious, or just right? I'd have had to see it on... do you know, just the other day I saw the most lovely brocade in a shop and- oh, we're here, aren't we?"
And he had been having such a lovely time of it, too. Ah, but he couldn't complain so much, these mortals simply didn't have the time for a proper appreciation of fashion. Sobriquet set a glamour of the ostrich feather hat upon his head, taking it off almost immediately and waving it distressedly. "Oh, it's just not the same. Well, you can't tell, of course, that's the whole point, but... oh, for a little bit of reality, Vanessa, darling, just for a treat?"
But he supposed they were not here to debate the relative rewardingness of a properly fashionable reality, and so the cap vanished once more into nonexistence. Sobriquet sighed, with all the aeons of stored up drama, and then righted himself once more, as if everything before this very moment had been completely inconsequential. He seemed to draw himself up, but rather somehow managed to draw himself down, a veritable loss of height and youth as his form shifted into that of a weathered crone, dressed in patched servant's livery and with a wicker basket of laundered bedding upon one no-doubt-achy hip.
"Well, then, dearie, I'm off. Don't get your knickers in a knot, hm? He's just not worth it, love!" He tottered off, making his way for the door with more celerity than would have been expected in an old woman, pressing the laundry basket against the manor door and pushing against it until it opened.
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Oh, but this was such a very rushed affair. Vanessa was an absolute dear about the details, of course, but she just didn't have a proper appreciation for the nature of time. Sobriquet had wanted to do oh-so-much more before they'd gotten started, but she had been rather insistent about things. He supposed it was a mortal thing - after all, when they only had a hundred years or a thousand or however long it was these creatures lived... well, they wanted things to be done quickly, and didn't want to spend days or weeks figuring out the right outfit, even if it would have been perfect.
"You know, I have this absolutely lovely ostrich feather cap that would have been perfectly dashing, just the thing for a little bit of murder, you know. Very sweeping, oh the exaggerated gestures I could have made. I could have monologued, my dear, it would have completely fit the attire, but oh - or maybe the other hat, the crown of laurel? Too ostentatious, or just right? I'd have had to see it on... do you know, just the other day I saw the most lovely brocade in a shop and- oh, we're here, aren't we?"
And he had been having such a lovely time of it, too. Ah, but he couldn't complain so much, these mortals simply didn't have the time for a proper appreciation of fashion. Sobriquet set a glamour of the ostrich feather hat upon his head, taking it off almost immediately and waving it distressedly. "Oh, it's just not the same. Well, you can't tell, of course, that's the whole point, but... oh, for a little bit of reality, Vanessa, darling, just for a treat?"
But he supposed they were not here to debate the relative rewardingness of a properly fashionable reality, and so the cap vanished once more into nonexistence. Sobriquet sighed, with all the aeons of stored up drama, and then righted himself once more, as if everything before this very moment had been completely inconsequential. He seemed to draw himself up, but rather somehow managed to draw himself down, a veritable loss of height and youth as his form shifted into that of a weathered crone, dressed in patched servant's livery and with a wicker basket of laundered bedding upon one no-doubt-achy hip.
"Well, then, dearie, I'm off. Don't get your knickers in a knot, hm? He's just not worth it, love!" He tottered off, making his way for the door with more celerity than would have been expected in an old woman, pressing the laundry basket against the manor door and pushing against it until it opened.
"You know, I have this absolutely lovely ostrich feather cap that would have been perfectly dashing, just the thing for a little bit of murder, you know. Very sweeping, oh the exaggerated gestures I could have made. I could have monologued, my dear, it would have completely fit the attire, but oh - or maybe the other hat, the crown of laurel? Too ostentatious, or just right? I'd have had to see it on... do you know, just the other day I saw the most lovely brocade in a shop and- oh, we're here, aren't we?"
And he had been having such a lovely time of it, too. Ah, but he couldn't complain so much, these mortals simply didn't have the time for a proper appreciation of fashion. Sobriquet set a glamour of the ostrich feather hat upon his head, taking it off almost immediately and waving it distressedly. "Oh, it's just not the same. Well, you can't tell, of course, that's the whole point, but... oh, for a little bit of reality, Vanessa, darling, just for a treat?"
But he supposed they were not here to debate the relative rewardingness of a properly fashionable reality, and so the cap vanished once more into nonexistence. Sobriquet sighed, with all the aeons of stored up drama, and then righted himself once more, as if everything before this very moment had been completely inconsequential. He seemed to draw himself up, but rather somehow managed to draw himself down, a veritable loss of height and youth as his form shifted into that of a weathered crone, dressed in patched servant's livery and with a wicker basket of laundered bedding upon one no-doubt-achy hip.
"Well, then, dearie, I'm off. Don't get your knickers in a knot, hm? He's just not worth it, love!" He tottered off, making his way for the door with more celerity than would have been expected in an old woman, pressing the laundry basket against the manor door and pushing against it until it opened.