[ true to his word, charles does take the long way. mirror travel is quick, but he's not entirely sure if it works the exact same here, and with the assorted collection of beverages he's managed to gather in the past hour — well, would be a right shame if those didn't make it through, right?
so it's a little over an hour after their little talk over the tablets that charles makes it to his door and, to his credit, actually knocks.
and then, because he's Just Like That, he phases his head in through the door and calls out, ] Would come in like this, except I need you to open the door for your drinks.
You look good in that, [ is absolutely not what charles means to say, and yet apparently those are the words that his vocal cords decide to form as him and junpei are making their way around the obon festival. but, well, it's not his fault if he can't help but sneak glances at junpei, for once out of his usual all-black somewhat-grunge ensemble and in a yukata that, despite its whimsical fish pattern, suits his complexion rather nicely.
in order to, you know, make sure that's taken as the completely objective observation that it is, he glances around them at the other festival-goers and the way many are dressed similarly, in colourful garments, and tilts his head in consideration. ]
Should I have changed, too? I wasn't sure if it was, you know, appropriate. [ it's not a celebration from his culture, right? so then would wearing clothes from that culture be, like, weird? he's pretty sure crystal told him the word for it, but he can't remember. maybe he should be wearing a sherwani instead? ]
[Hello Junpei. How is your day? I hope it's a good one because it is about to just get better. No matter where he is, be it outside or indoors, he'll feel a sudden bump against the back of his legs. Why! It's no one but Whitey the Albino boar! And it looks like he has a letter for you:]
Greetings Junpei of The Chosen.
It has come to my attention that my manner of communicating has confused my fellow Chosen of Aldrip. There has been several voices pointing out that my way of writing and addressing another is "too long", or "too formal." I have merely followed the art of writing letters that was taught to me by my teachers, who were picked personally by my parents, the previous noble Duke of York and his wife by grace, lady Cecily. For us it has been important to follow a certain structure and method while contacting one another by a letter to show the respect and reflect the status of the receiver.
However, it seems to me this is no longer the case and people have crafted a new way of writing and communicating. I could not help but remember our prior conversation about literacy. I was hoping that perhaps you, as the man of wisdom and knowledge, could perhaps aid me as I navigate through this foreign writing style called texting. If you would, I'd be in your gratitude and seek to repay the favor as you see fit.
[ ketsora. when the assignment finally comes in, coupled with the grouping, charles is just glad the waiting is over — but then, as he talks to his group, gets details of the place... well. it's a good thing he got his magic cricket bat back.
it takes him maybe twenty minutes to pack his bag, most of the time going to wrapping a mirror very, very carefully and stuffing it in the backpack; then, with the handle of his cricket bat sticking out of the bag, he hops into the mirror in his apartment and promptly emerges from the mirror in junpei's house, calling out, ]
Hey, [ and it should maybe be strange, the way this has become normal, him simply stepping out of the mirror without even so much as texting in advance — in many ways, coming here feels more like coming home than his own place does, though charles actively avoids thinking of that more than absolutely necessary. gab is all too happy to provide a distraction from his thoughts, though, running up to him, and charles drops into a squat to scratch him behind his ears, laughing. ]
Yeah, I know, I missed you, [ he says with a soft smile, and as he lifts his eyes from the dog to where footsteps have alerted him to junpei walking closer, too, he tries very hard to pretend he's not saying the words to the both of them.
(he's been gone, what, half a day? doesn't matter, that.)
then, straightening up, ] You told me to stop by before I go. So... [ he shrugs, as if to say, well, here i am. ]
[ it is eight in the morning, and the moon is high up in the sky, the only light in what seems to be perpetual darkness. none of the lights inside the house turn on; neither do their tablets. it all reeks of aldrip fuckery, and after some choice words on both parts, after making sure gab is fed (and junpei, too, for that matter, because they may need to go investigate but charles will make damn sure junpei's eaten at least something before they head out), well — it's not like they can check the network for any announcements about this, is it?
no, heading out to see what the hell is going on is the only choice left for them. charles grabs his bag, his cricket bat stuffed inside, and takes junpei's hand — a few months ago he'd have said it's to make sure they're not separated. now, it's just because he can, and because he wants to... and to make sure they're not separated, yes, alright, maybe there's some truth to that, too.
the streets near the house are quiet; there are no lights in any of the nearby buildings, either. the closer they get to the center of the city, the more there are sounds — some far off, a skittering noise that makes charles freeze for a moment, some heavy footsteps that lead away from them. none of them sound very reassuring. ]
I don't like this, [ charles says and squeezes junpei's hand, his eyes scanning their surroundings, constantly alert. he doesn't know why, but he feels like they're being watched — like there is something in the darkness around them, something distinctly unfriendly. ]
some time this week, junpei will find a CUTELY WRAPPED BOX (idk, robots wearing santa hats) delivered to his doorstep ... along with a card written in surprisingly neat cursive.]
Dear Junpei, I am so thankful that you are part of my life and that we get to spend this holiday season together. I hope your Yuletide is as happy as the happiness you bring me! :-) -Vash
[ it is while junpei is out (perhaps he's got the most unfair work shift of all, perhaps he's out walking gab, perhaps on an errand, whatever the reason; perhaps charles even sent him out to get something he claimed to have forgotten to buy for their dinner later) that he sets everything up: gets the cake he's made earlier and stored in the fridge of the apartment he's pretty much given to root and shaw, sets up some candles and christmas decorations.
and then he sends junpei a picture of it all, with, ]
this look right?
[ and yeah, maybe he could have saved it for a surprise when he's home, but... he'd rather make the corrections now. or, on the off chance junpei hates the whole tradition, he can still fix this while he's out. ]
[It's early in the 25th morning. Most people are still sleeping and the sun is only about to send its first rays to break the darkness of the night sky. But then there is a sudden knock on a door. Huh?! Who could it be! Whenever [insert name] gets to the door, be it immediately or hours late they will find a christmas wreath with white roses placed on their doorstep. There might even be snowy (or wet!) small hoof marks leading away from the present. Hm. I wonder, who indeed did deliver this?
On the wreath there is a letter that reads:]
To dearest Junpei,
I hope this letter finds you well. I want to thank you for helping me all these months to get settled in this world and learn my way around with those who come from different culture than me. There will be a feast held at the Inn’s tavern for the next 12 days and I welcome you to enjoy it for free. There will be warm food, treats, games and homemade mead and wine at your disposal.
Merry Christmas.
Signed, Richard Plantagenet, The Duke of Gloucester
[ooc: There will be no ic mingle log for the feast. But feel free to either handwave or thread it out!]
don't look now but it's. me back here with more threads, time to have a very bad new years,
[ sorting through items is, perhaps weirdly enough, what charles finds — not soothing, exactly, but an activity both mindless enough that he can do it whenever, and also enough to hold his attention to give him something to focus on when there's really nothing else to do.
and that leaves him here, rearranging the records and other small knick-knacks they've (well, he, let's be honest here, there's only one out of them with a tendency to save the weirdest things just in case) gathered over the months while junpei... well. he's been quieter, the closer they've come to new year, and charles hasn't addressed that fact yet — he'd let him be quiet around his death anniversary, right, so he's returning the favour here, as much as he's glancing at him every now and then with a worried little frown.
still; he's opening a drawer he doesn't actually remember ever opening before, and there's — a watch? of sorts? puzzled, he picks it up, and turns to ask, ]
[ quite honestly, they could have very well stayed home — valentine's is about staying together, of course, and they don't really need a whole party or any of its activities to enjoy each other's company... but getting out of the house is a good thing, and well, might as well check out what the city's done, right?
only, it's — a little, uh. underwhelming seems to be the word for it; but they're together, so really, what else matters? who cares if the catering is bad, or if the activities seem to be random games and a speed dating thing that's not really relevant to them! eventually, after piling some snacks on a plate for junpei, they end up around the table where the decorations must have been made, only, there's still papers and glitter and scissors and other things for arts and crafts there. and charles, ever up for literally anything, grabs a few silk papers and rolls them into the approximation of a flower. ]
There, [ he says, grinning, as he offers it to junpei. ] Flowers are traditional, yeah? Only, this won't wilt. [ it's also very much paper and barely looks like a flower, but shh! ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
🍻
so it's a little over an hour after their little talk over the tablets that charles makes it to his door and, to his credit, actually knocks.
and then, because he's Just Like That, he phases his head in through the door and calls out, ] Would come in like this, except I need you to open the door for your drinks.
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are you sick of me yet
in order to, you know, make sure that's taken as the completely objective observation that it is, he glances around them at the other festival-goers and the way many are dressed similarly, in colourful garments, and tilts his head in consideration. ]
Should I have changed, too? I wasn't sure if it was, you know, appropriate. [ it's not a celebration from his culture, right? so then would wearing clothes from that culture be, like, weird? he's pretty sure crystal told him the word for it, but he can't remember. maybe he should be wearing a sherwani instead? ]
never. 150 more tags coming up--
this fucking callout im so. dont look at me ever again
i perceive us every time i open my inbox tbh
just don't open it then problem solved--
i'll be tagging with my eyes closed from now on
probably a good plan
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Greetings Junpei of The Chosen.
It has come to my attention that my manner of communicating has confused my fellow Chosen of Aldrip. There has been several voices pointing out that my way of writing and addressing another is "too long", or "too formal." I have merely followed the art of writing letters that was taught to me by my teachers, who were picked personally by my parents, the previous noble Duke of York and his wife by grace, lady Cecily. For us it has been important to follow a certain structure and method while contacting one another by a letter to show the respect and reflect the status of the receiver.
However, it seems to me this is no longer the case and people have crafted a new way of writing and communicating. I could not help but remember our prior conversation about literacy. I was hoping that perhaps you, as the man of wisdom and knowledge, could perhaps aid me as I navigate through this foreign writing style called texting. If you would, I'd be in your gratitude and seek to repay the favor as you see fit.
Signed,
Richard Plantagenet, Duke of Gloucester.
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time for some very gay goodbyes 💖
it takes him maybe twenty minutes to pack his bag, most of the time going to wrapping a mirror very, very carefully and stuffing it in the backpack; then, with the handle of his cricket bat sticking out of the bag, he hops into the mirror in his apartment and promptly emerges from the mirror in junpei's house, calling out, ]
Hey, [ and it should maybe be strange, the way this has become normal, him simply stepping out of the mirror without even so much as texting in advance — in many ways, coming here feels more like coming home than his own place does, though charles actively avoids thinking of that more than absolutely necessary. gab is all too happy to provide a distraction from his thoughts, though, running up to him, and charles drops into a squat to scratch him behind his ears, laughing. ]
Yeah, I know, I missed you, [ he says with a soft smile, and as he lifts his eyes from the dog to where footsteps have alerted him to junpei walking closer, too, he tries very hard to pretend he's not saying the words to the both of them.
(he's been gone, what, half a day? doesn't matter, that.)
then, straightening up, ] You told me to stop by before I go. So... [ he shrugs, as if to say, well, here i am. ]
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what a coincidence, to be talking to both him and Charles at the same time, life is just full of surprises.)
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it's been almost two months since i last started a thread here. unforgivable,
no, heading out to see what the hell is going on is the only choice left for them. charles grabs his bag, his cricket bat stuffed inside, and takes junpei's hand — a few months ago he'd have said it's to make sure they're not separated. now, it's just because he can, and because he wants to... and to make sure they're not separated, yes, alright, maybe there's some truth to that, too.
the streets near the house are quiet; there are no lights in any of the nearby buildings, either. the closer they get to the center of the city, the more there are sounds — some far off, a skittering noise that makes charles freeze for a moment, some heavy footsteps that lead away from them. none of them sound very reassuring. ]
I don't like this, [ charles says and squeezes junpei's hand, his eyes scanning their surroundings, constantly alert. he doesn't know why, but he feels like they're being watched — like there is something in the darkness around them, something distinctly unfriendly. ]
Should we just turn back?
welcome home
it's good to be back
i'm throwing confetti
no that's littering
in my own house??? nah
sooooo you mean instead it's (g)littering--
it's (g)iving
i'm (c)rying
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don't read this cringe
im reading it.
noooo how embarrassing
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HOLIDAY!!!!
some time this week, junpei will find a CUTELY WRAPPED BOX (idk, robots wearing santa hats) delivered to his doorstep ... along with a card written in surprisingly neat cursive.]
I am so thankful that you are part of my life and that we get to spend this holiday season together.
I hope your Yuletide is as happy as the happiness you bring me! :-)
-Vash
[ inside the box, he will find a snood (he thinks this is so cool), and a whole buncha candy!
enjoy!!!! ]
hi its me again, forward-dated to actual christmas,
and then he sends junpei a picture of it all, with, ]
this look right?
[ and yeah, maybe he could have saved it for a surprise when he's home, but... he'd rather make the corrections now. or, on the off chance junpei hates the whole tradition, he can still fix this while he's out. ]
cake jumpscare
this is such low-hanging fruit but don't you mean..... cake jumpyscare--
i close my eyes. i do not see it
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🎀 the shortest wrap in history, leaving them to be cute about cake,
IC delivery
On the wreath there is a letter that reads:]
To dearest Junpei,
I hope this letter finds you well. I want to thank you for helping me all these months to get settled in this world and learn my way around with those who come from different culture than me. There will be a feast held at the Inn’s tavern for the next 12 days and I welcome you to enjoy it for free. There will be warm food, treats, games and homemade mead and wine at your disposal.
Merry Christmas.
Signed,
Richard Plantagenet, The Duke of Gloucester
[ooc: There will be no ic mingle log for the feast. But feel free to either handwave or thread it out!]
don't look now but it's. me back here with more threads, time to have a very bad new years,
and that leaves him here, rearranging the records and other small knick-knacks they've (well, he, let's be honest here, there's only one out of them with a tendency to save the weirdest things just in case) gathered over the months while junpei... well. he's been quieter, the closer they've come to new year, and charles hasn't addressed that fact yet — he'd let him be quiet around his death anniversary, right, so he's returning the favour here, as much as he's glancing at him every now and then with a worried little frown.
still; he's opening a drawer he doesn't actually remember ever opening before, and there's — a watch? of sorts? puzzled, he picks it up, and turns to ask, ]
Junpei? This yours?
surely it won't be the worst ever, considering--
oh yeah the worst ever is a high bar to beat,
yeah just don't kill him and it'll be way better this time
lmf luckily that's definitely not on the list of things to do this new year
the sheer romance of not killing him--
looks at ztd, yeah, that's the romance bar to beat really,
there are many bars and they are all in the ground
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vday's shenanigans ahoy
only, it's — a little, uh. underwhelming seems to be the word for it; but they're together, so really, what else matters? who cares if the catering is bad, or if the activities seem to be random games and a speed dating thing that's not really relevant to them! eventually, after piling some snacks on a plate for junpei, they end up around the table where the decorations must have been made, only, there's still papers and glitter and scissors and other things for arts and crafts there. and charles, ever up for literally anything, grabs a few silk papers and rolls them into the approximation of a flower. ]
There, [ he says, grinning, as he offers it to junpei. ] Flowers are traditional, yeah? Only, this won't wilt. [ it's also very much paper and barely looks like a flower, but shh! ]
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