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| No title. |
| (2013-01-28 - 2013-04-29) |
| No description. |
| Riku | Morning in Paris, the city awakes to the bells of Notre Dame. The massive structure of the Notre Dame Cathedral begins a sonorous melody of tolling bells, each of them with their own gathering harmony that depends on the echoes of the bells that have come before as well as the immediate sounds. Riku has his face hidden behind a hooded cloak more because he's noticed a couple of nasty facts about this area. Even as heartless activity in the area seems to rise, that might be part and parcel of the intolerance and fear running like an undercurrent through the daily lives of the citizenry. The smell of freshly baked bread wafts through the shutters of shop windows combined with a complication of smells best left to the imagination (or perhaps blocked from the mind entirely) The teenager tears a chunk from a piece of bread, picking at it as he lingers atop a crumbling short wall and people watches. |
| Mercade Alexander | Mercade 'That Stupid Detective' Alexander is also awake, but not to the bells of Notre Dame. That doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy the exitence of a Wonder of the World sitting right there in the middle of this ridiculous conglomeration of worlds. The Detective visited here once, and now he's back, walking through the streets. Unlike Riku, Mercade walks openly. He has nothing to hide, he believes. He walks through the streets, picking up some bread himself (nothing like fresh-baked bread!) and munches a bit as he moves through the path of the people here, making his way forward towards the cathedral. What is he doing here? He doesn't seem to notice the cloaked figure who is peoplewatching, at the least. |
| Riku | In the winding streets of the city, every inch is crammed with activity. There are those who trudge and those who strut. Those in rags and those in armor and many variations inbetween, although trending towards a soupy brown and green morass of lumpy shapes and variable scowls. A brightly colored and festooned wagon sits in the muck, the paint slightly peeling and the wood creaking. A brightly clothed man in the brightly colored wagon calls out. "Come, listen to a tale beyond all of which I have told before. A tale of magnificant adventure." "Adventure!" pipes up the man in a higher voice from a little puppet. "Terrifying Villainy" "Villainy~" goes the refrain. At this second interruptory interjection, which comes with an overdramatic rubbing of the small cloth hands, the masked man in the wagon peers at the puppet with a look of annoyance and disfavor. The people watcher looks over towards the wagon, chewing another pinched off piece of bread as the show continues. "A tale of a man and his monsters." "Mons--uurf" Hat is swept off of head and used to muffle the small puppet which looks much like the masked man wearing them. "Quiet. Whose telling the story here?" The man sniffs in aggrieved scorn as the little puppets aims flail and then sag. "aw." |
| Mercade Alexander | See the sights! Meet the people! Feel that fresh early Renaissance air! That wonderful mix of joy and horror, of humor and hunted. Mercade is /conscious/ of the terrible things lurking beneath the surface here. All you have to do is look at the edge on people's faces, the way they look at the guards and shrug away from the Palace of Justice. there is an iron hand here. A hand behind the gaiety. A iron that clutches as much as the bells themselves. But right now, there's a jester in a cart that is about to tell a story. Mercade smiles, folding his arms and munching some bread as the man gets his story going, with puppet accompaniment. The jesters, after all, are known for telling truth in olden times where others would be punished or worse... |
| Riku | The people watcher slides off the ledge, joining a small audience that gathers (mostly out of curiosity, and at least nobody has that look of scanning the ground for effective ranged weaponry quite yet) At the front ranks are a motley of children who look curiously as the storyteller replaces his hat. The puppet shakes off the effects of being 'muffled' with a small chiming of bells. "and this is how it goes.." Riku says very quietly as he munches on bread. "If I take a walk for long enough, and go far enough-- I will either bump into you or Reize. Do the rest of your TDA not enjoy exercise when they are not flexing at sandbags or misplacing local reality?" he folds his arms as the storyteller begins. "Look up at the stars. See how they sparkle and dance like little fireflies?" "No>' The puppet protests. The man looks consternated at the puppet who continues. "It's /daytime/." The storyteller cranes his head upwards, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm." The puppet flinches, casting hands over head as if to ward off a blow that never comes. "So it is." The puppet slowly peers out from underneath its hands. There is a rustle of cloth and a gasp from the children as a billowing cloak obscures the inside of the wagon for a moment, and the inside is lit up by innumerable points of faint light, the interior and the counter out of which the man leans suddenly black and swathed with cloth shimmering with points of silver. The man himself is wearing a completely black outfit with a silver mask. The puppet is a little behind, still in the colorful clothing before looking left then right then ducking under the counter only to return again in a similar outfit. "Perhaps this will have to do for now." |
| Mercade Alexander | Mercade doesn't look over as Riku shows up, but he does smile. "I like to explore. I like adventure. And I like beautiful things. There is a beauty here, in this town and in these people. You can see it and hear it. Tears don't suit this city." He looks over, then. "I think a lot of the TDA prefers to stay closer to home these days. I'm not sure why, there's so much to see out here. What brings you this way, if I may ask?" Mercade asks quietly of Riku, and then aaaaaahs as he sees the swift motions of the man making his own night. "You don't see skill like this in many other places. This man has a rare gift." |
| Riku | "I thought there was a shard here." Riku shrugs one shoulder slightly, pulling the edge of his cloak closer as several armored soldiers patrol through the crowd. The look of thinly veiled distain as they look towards the storyteller and his wagon is obvious, but they don't interrupt. Only spit in the muck as they pass and are then gone and ignored utterly by the target of their scorn. Riku continues. "More wild heartless usually means food. Food means--" he waves a hand. "Usually a source of light." The storyteller continues with a tale about how all the stars in the sky were connected. "And if this is so-- then perhaps there are a hundred, or a thousand wagons and men telling stories out of them." "And me?" the puppet asks hopefully. "No, silly boy. There is only one of you. That is all Poor Clopin can cope with." The puppet again looks depressed. "aw" Riku chuckles very faintly under his breath at the show. "I was wrong-- this place is completely rotted in places. Stuff like this." he gestures to the wagon. "Just contrasts brighter against things like that." There is a disgusted shudder in his voice and Riku shakes his head. "They'll stay away while I'm here at least. -- I do owe you that full explaination anyways, don't I?" he chuckles faintly again. "It's such a novelty to say that." |
| Mercade Alexander | "True. Fluorgis is suffering a lot too. Maybe..." He pauses. "But it couldn't be. It is in danger, though." He looks over to Riku. "Maybe we can look around here, see if we can find what the Heartless are looking for, and stop them." He looks back to the storyteller, listening, and he smiles and laughs. "Maybe it is, Riku. I don't know. Every place has its troubles. But people seem to be willing to sort them out eventually, don't they?" He glances over to Riku. "I'm glad you're here to help protect these people against that." |