queenofblacktears (
queenofblacktears) wrote in
capeandcowllogs2011-06-08 01:00 am
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(no subject)
WHO: Ophelia and Khisanth
WHERE: Central Park
WHEN: Night of the 7th?
WARNINGS: It's a creepy goth who turns people into zombie emo's and a dragon that eats people.
SUMMARY: Ophelia and Khisanth meet!
FORMAT: Para?
Ophelia was stretched out on a bench in central park, the area around her lit up by a lamp twenty feet or so above her, a street lamp that actually worked as brightly as it was supposed to, lighting up the whole area. She had a pearl and grey electric guitar stretched across her lap, and was strumming it absently, the sound twangy and electric and hard despite not being plugged into an amp.
Out on the path in front of her was the female tear drinker she'd had with her almost since she arrived, a young woman dressed in a tattered white wedding dress, holding a ruined white umbrella above her head, her face concealed behind a ruined veil that didn't quite hide the fact that her eyes were glowing with a very unsettling sheen. She was hovering a foot or so off the ground, weaving and twirling through the air in a slow, rhythmic dance that almost followed what Ophelia was playing, and humming softly to herself as she moved. Above her, a grey storm cloud shimmered ten feet off the ground, the cloud cover roiling and boiling silently, perhaps five feet across.
Ophelia wasn't particularly watching her, just looking around at the park itself as she played. There wasn't any pattern to her music, it couldn't be called much of anything except wandering, though it sounded rather odd coming off an electric guitar.
WHERE: Central Park
WHEN: Night of the 7th?
WARNINGS: It's a creepy goth who turns people into zombie emo's and a dragon that eats people.
SUMMARY: Ophelia and Khisanth meet!
FORMAT: Para?
Ophelia was stretched out on a bench in central park, the area around her lit up by a lamp twenty feet or so above her, a street lamp that actually worked as brightly as it was supposed to, lighting up the whole area. She had a pearl and grey electric guitar stretched across her lap, and was strumming it absently, the sound twangy and electric and hard despite not being plugged into an amp.
Out on the path in front of her was the female tear drinker she'd had with her almost since she arrived, a young woman dressed in a tattered white wedding dress, holding a ruined white umbrella above her head, her face concealed behind a ruined veil that didn't quite hide the fact that her eyes were glowing with a very unsettling sheen. She was hovering a foot or so off the ground, weaving and twirling through the air in a slow, rhythmic dance that almost followed what Ophelia was playing, and humming softly to herself as she moved. Above her, a grey storm cloud shimmered ten feet off the ground, the cloud cover roiling and boiling silently, perhaps five feet across.
Ophelia wasn't particularly watching her, just looking around at the park itself as she played. There wasn't any pattern to her music, it couldn't be called much of anything except wandering, though it sounded rather odd coming off an electric guitar.
no subject
Central Park is usually too well-lit for her tastes. She prefers to pick her meals off of dark streets and out of shady alleys, but... well, no, she really has to get a better look at this. So with a quick bank to the left and a fold of both wings, Khisanth swoops down low and quiet. She blends in almost exactly with the darkness, right until a flare of her wings lands her at the edge of the lamp light. Then she's an inky shadow just on the edge of sight, all sharp points and long snaking neck.
"I've seen many acts performed for money on the corners of sidewalks in this world," comes her pleasantly deep voice, rumbling out of a barrel chest, "But this might yet be the most interesting."
no subject
"We're not performing for money," she finally says as she settles back a little and plucks another cord on her guitar. "I wanted some air, and she never resists a chance to dance." She glances at the bride, and it hovers a bit closer to the shadowy figure. Not too close, and still seemingly dancing away. But a bit closer.
And the careful observer would notice there is a third figure, nearby, a man dressed almost like a mime, resting against a tree with a shovel in his hands, in the darkness opposite where Khisanth is.
no subject
"She'll do well to resist getting too close, if she would like to keep dancing." It's spoken idly, uncaringly, but still carries the hint of a warning. The strange figure reminds Khisanth strangely of the creatures of the Abyss, and she can still feel their desperate clawing at her scales. Not an experience she'd like to repeat.
And that aside, she is still awfully hungry. Interesting act or no, dinnertime waits for no dragon.
no subject
"Feel free to stop hiding, though. If you can," her head tilted to the side, dark hair writhing around on her shoulders. "How big are you?"
no subject
"I'm not hiding." It's a purr, spoken with the lazy confidence of someone who has never needed to hide. And then, with a whispered word of magic, the area fills with light. Not the blinding sort, as she usually casts, but enough to illuminate her full, black-scaled length of body. A creature as vain as Khisanth is has to show off every inch of gleaming scale and pearly claw, and the right lighting is terribly important.
no subject
But they'd all been long gone by the time she came along.
"Apparently not. How do you manage to live in a city this congested being that large?"
no subject
"I have a few tricks." None of which she's willing to share, of course, and the silky tone makes that clear.