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entrancelogs2014-05-18 09:13 pm
justguidelines) wrote in entrancelogs2014-05-18 09:13 pm
Entry tags:
The Monkey Wears A Sailor's Clothes
Who: Hector and Lia, and then later, Hector and Jack. Now also feat. Scott.
Where: Outside for the morning, in the bar in the evening.
When: Today...Ish? During the event.
Rating: Probably going to go with PG-13. There's swordfightin' and punching and biting and all kinds of things involved here.
Summary: Lia wanted a sword partner, Hector taunted and volunteered. Things happen. Later, he meets up with Jack in the bar to bitch about Wonderland and plot. And because I'm the master of compiling things, maybe someone will finally get at least one story out of Hector (looking at you, Scott).
The Story:
MORNING SWORDIN' WITH LIA:
After breakfast and prayers, she'd said. Both a waste of time, in his opinion, but he figured nine of the clock was plenty of time to wait around for Mademoiselle Floofy Skirts, which was why he'd taken his sweet time about coming down from his room on the sixth floor, taken his time in one of the tea rooms - opting for it instead of trudging down to the kitchen to fight with the cantankerous and noisy machine that seemed to make coffee by magic - though he disliked doing so...And even longer about strolling out onto the grounds.
He'd been up since much earlier, of course, since that was just his habit, and had already made his cursory walk about the grounds with both piglet and monkey in attendence, before any of the other. The idea of swordplay was a terrible one, and he knew it, because it simply wasn't in his nature to stop at first blood, but...Well, it was something to do. And while he bore Lia no real ill will, it would be terribly satisfying to knock her down a peg or two.
EVENING DRANKIN' WITH JACK:
Later, in the evening, after licking his proverbial wounds and doing what he could to get the swelling down from the right shiner she'd given him (he still hadn't deserve it, no matter what anyone thought, because she got what was coming to her, fighting with a pirate), he finally gave up on making it look any better and headed down a floor to the bar. He knew there would jabs and innuendos about the state of his face, but he'd long ago decided that, were that the case, he was going to make sure he gave Jack a matching mark to carry around with him, simply for the fact he'd not be putting up with any of Jack's pert little commentary.
And once there, he settled at a table in a shadowed corner, and between it and the shade thrown from his hat, he hoped against hope Jack would, perhaps, not notice. There weren't many things he was ashamed of in his life, and that was true, because the profession itself required one throw that to the wind, but admitting a Frenchwoman had gotten the upperhand enough to punch him in the face was one of those things.
STORY TIME FOR SCOTT:
And, with the next day looming, he and Rose (along with a piglet named Titus), went about their daily routine with a walk, this time to the garden, and with him carried both the black eye and a throbbing head, as well. He'd known better, and yet there he was, anyway, and just because he'd gone and done something incredibly stupid, it was perhaps a self-punishment, rising early and forcing himself through the daily routine.
But that routine had been established long before the piglet had come along, and while he was certainly quick on his little feet, Hector's long legs and wide - if uneven - strides quickly left him behind, and he'd had to stop to allow hi to catch up.
Such was the case when he came across a bench, finally deciding he'd punished his head enough for the day before (all of it, really), and sat down, looking out over the garden. He supposed it was a nice enough one, what little use he had for such things. But the piglet was able to catch up, and Rose decided it was time to play and...Well, he was alone enough that there was no reason to rush along.
Where: Outside for the morning, in the bar in the evening.
When: Today...Ish? During the event.
Rating: Probably going to go with PG-13. There's swordfightin' and punching and biting and all kinds of things involved here.
Summary: Lia wanted a sword partner, Hector taunted and volunteered. Things happen. Later, he meets up with Jack in the bar to bitch about Wonderland and plot. And because I'm the master of compiling things, maybe someone will finally get at least one story out of Hector (looking at you, Scott).
The Story:
MORNING SWORDIN' WITH LIA:
After breakfast and prayers, she'd said. Both a waste of time, in his opinion, but he figured nine of the clock was plenty of time to wait around for Mademoiselle Floofy Skirts, which was why he'd taken his sweet time about coming down from his room on the sixth floor, taken his time in one of the tea rooms - opting for it instead of trudging down to the kitchen to fight with the cantankerous and noisy machine that seemed to make coffee by magic - though he disliked doing so...And even longer about strolling out onto the grounds.
He'd been up since much earlier, of course, since that was just his habit, and had already made his cursory walk about the grounds with both piglet and monkey in attendence, before any of the other. The idea of swordplay was a terrible one, and he knew it, because it simply wasn't in his nature to stop at first blood, but...Well, it was something to do. And while he bore Lia no real ill will, it would be terribly satisfying to knock her down a peg or two.
EVENING DRANKIN' WITH JACK:
Later, in the evening, after licking his proverbial wounds and doing what he could to get the swelling down from the right shiner she'd given him (he still hadn't deserve it, no matter what anyone thought, because she got what was coming to her, fighting with a pirate), he finally gave up on making it look any better and headed down a floor to the bar. He knew there would jabs and innuendos about the state of his face, but he'd long ago decided that, were that the case, he was going to make sure he gave Jack a matching mark to carry around with him, simply for the fact he'd not be putting up with any of Jack's pert little commentary.
And once there, he settled at a table in a shadowed corner, and between it and the shade thrown from his hat, he hoped against hope Jack would, perhaps, not notice. There weren't many things he was ashamed of in his life, and that was true, because the profession itself required one throw that to the wind, but admitting a Frenchwoman had gotten the upperhand enough to punch him in the face was one of those things.
STORY TIME FOR SCOTT:
And, with the next day looming, he and Rose (along with a piglet named Titus), went about their daily routine with a walk, this time to the garden, and with him carried both the black eye and a throbbing head, as well. He'd known better, and yet there he was, anyway, and just because he'd gone and done something incredibly stupid, it was perhaps a self-punishment, rising early and forcing himself through the daily routine.
But that routine had been established long before the piglet had come along, and while he was certainly quick on his little feet, Hector's long legs and wide - if uneven - strides quickly left him behind, and he'd had to stop to allow hi to catch up.
Such was the case when he came across a bench, finally deciding he'd punished his head enough for the day before (all of it, really), and sat down, looking out over the garden. He supposed it was a nice enough one, what little use he had for such things. But the piglet was able to catch up, and Rose decided it was time to play and...Well, he was alone enough that there was no reason to rush along.