realityshifted | (no subject)

Entry tags:

d•n•angel (d1) argentine

(no subject)

[Argentine is crouching on stone pillar which he's brought with him. He was resting, just thinking, and decided to sit here in the hopes of running into someone. The snow, however, has taken him off guard and he tips his head up to look at the sky.]

...Is there art dreaming somewhere? [He reaches up a gloved hand to catch some snow.] How strange.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Have a Emilia; watching with faintly narrowed eyes] ...Doth art dream or is it but fingers bound to a paper?

[That's some fancy speak he hears. He turns to her.]

The dreams of art are the dreams of the Creator and of the appreciator, scattered through a prism.

[You gotta love Shakespeare; intricacy ahoy!]

'Tis said that humankind grows closest to the Lord through prayer and blood; yet grandness as this presents a second [She pauses and reaches out with a hand; catching a snowflake more through luck than anything else] ...This doth not feel of art.

[He catches another snowflake as well and looks closely at it.]

I believe you're right. It would feel differently if it were art. But this snow is still unnatural.

From the lights above; they dost not appear without cause- a strange days night when they come [She frowns deeply; still examining her snowflake- even as it slowly melts from her body heat] ...I sense that thou hast not watched this fall afore?

[He turns his attention back to her.]

Speaking abstractly, I have seen the snow fall. But I have not experienced it myself. The outside world is still new to me.

[She nods, looking rather thoughtful] Many doth not want the true world; palaces art sweeter.

Aye, yet I didst mean upon this land.

[He bows slightly.] My apologies. I haven't seen snow here nor there.

Nay, 'tis my fault- I wast not clear on the matter.

...Snow doth not commonly come from starshine.

No, it does not. I wondered if it was art, because only in art could something like this be so easily possible.

[She gives him a odd little frown for a few seconds and then glances at the sky again] Hm, perhaps this ist art, perhaps it doth all be art- 'Tis a strangeness but not a ending [She tilts her head slightly; still staring up at the sky] ...It doth not burn mine flesh, thou?

[He looks up as well.] I feel nothing. It seems that here, magic is what allows all to work.

Magic? [She seems to consider that for a few seconds; looking perhaps just a little wary- since witches and wizards and things that go "boo!" in the night are still regarded as Very Bad Things in her time] ...Perhaps, there be signs of bedevilment.

Though...enchantment is often a positive word, I think.

Nay, all trappings are devil touched.

But do you think the devil could touch something as beautiful as this snow? or perhaps beauty itself is his work...

I wouldst not guess the devils playgrounds. [A pause as she settles her cloak around her and frowns] beauty doth hide darkness, the rose hides the thorn and the thorn hides the rose- fate demands.