rainbowlounge | Winter RP: The Citadel

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roleplay: open

Winter RP: The Citadel

It's late afternoon, just approaching evening, and one of the less-imposing reception rooms in the Citadel at the heart of the City of Glass is lit up by a glorious sunset. The dry heat of the desert day is starting to die off; the temperature sits at a pleasant level now.

The walls of the room are made of thick, solid glass panes, in deceptively delicate white stone frames. They are punctuated at regular intervals by wall hangings embroidered with intricate geometric patterns, in green and gold. There is a large, extravagant rug, woven in similar colors, covering the floor. The ceiling, high above, is more glass, fogged, and gilded around the edges to match the gold in the tapestries.

One wall is dominated by a pair of double doors that swing open onto an enclosed pleasure garden, with carefully maintained flowers climbing the walls and a murmuring fountain in the center. There are white gravel paths marking out four regular quadrants.

The portals are opening once again...

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"People do it all the time where I'm from," Morgan said. "Of course, we also suck. Because fuck America, that's why."

"I suppose it would be rude to ask for details?" Isshiri said, before he could stop himself, then smiled sheepishly and tried to apologize. "I'm sorry. My cousin calls me recklessly curious, and she's absolutely right. I just...I like to travel. I want to go everywhere some day, see everything the world has to offer. No matter how awful some parts of 'everywhere' are..." On cue, he wobbled again, almost missing the wall and falling this time. I should probably sit down... Nolani would probably be upset with him.

Morgan squinted at him. "You okay? Falling down and going boom is only fun in the movies."

He flushed a little. "Mostly, I think. I got stabbed a little while ago. But it's healed now. Sorry, I thought I was being discreet..."

Not that discretion was really much of a thing for him, but he'd tried.

Discretion? Weird thing to think about when sick. "Obviously not all the way," Morgan said. "Should probably sit down. Are there chairs around here? Do you guys even sit down for anything? Or are you like those weird hipster bars where everybody just stands around looking bored?"

((Aha, Morgan is also fat!))

"I'm not sure what a hipster is," Isshiri said thoughtfully. "But mostly this room is used for balls and semi-formal receptions. A lot of standing around, wandering around, mingling and chatting and flirting. I get bored, but my sister loves them. And there should be chairs along the back wall, yes."

((yay for more details :D ))

Edited 2015-02-28 05:19 (UTC)

"Hipsters are jackasses who think they're cool because they know obscure shit," Morgan replied. "Come on, let's get you sitting down then. I've never been stabbed but I know recovering from surgery sucks ass."

"Good idea," Isshiri agreed, and started making his way over to the row of chairs, keeping one hand on the wall for balance. "And yes, I know the type you're talking about. Pretentious--jackasses, I like that word. Not one we use here." Though he was probably going to start; it had a nice ring to it.

"Literally it's a donkey," Morgan said. "Paige doesn't like it; she says it's an insult to donkeys. She's probably right but, eh, whatever." Zie gestured at the chairs. "Have a seat. Do you guys have donkeys here or just, like, camels?"

Isshiri sat. "You can sit, too, if you like," he said, realizing that he probably should've offered first. This was technically his home, so that sort of made him a host. "And here in the desert, mostly camels, and some horses, but those are more in the border provinces, like where my father's from. My mother raises camels, actually, so I grew up sneaking out to ride them, see how far I could get before someone noticed I was gone...anyway, there are donkeys outside the desert."

Yeah, why not. Morgan plumped zirself down in a seat, which was weirdly comfortable for how it looked. "Yeah, I figured donkeys and desert don't get along real well. Actually, strictly speaking I think a jackass is a male donkey. But whatever, enough about donkeys. You wanted to know about the US?"

"Yes, absolutely," he said. "Anything you're willing to tell me. Is it a large country, or a small one?"

"It's pretty big," Morgan said. "'Course it mostly got that way by stealing land and killing everyone who lived on it. Did I mention we suck?"

"...oh. Empire-building," Isshiri made a face. "Yes, that tends to...not be very pleasant for everyone else." He did his best not to think about his mother's probable plans for the future.

"Yeah," Morgan said. "We stomped all over the place and killed the shit out of a bunch of indigenous people, not to mention the people we imported to use as literal slaves and kill for kicks. People are like USA rules but don't believe them."

Isshiri flinched and his hand flew up to his neck again. "I...see. Yes. I can...I can understand why not to believe them." At least he was fairly sure his mother wouldn't do that. Steal land out from under people, absolutely, but she would only kill when she had to, not for...not for kicks. He was sure of that.

Morgan eyed him for a moment, then decided to just go for it. "Why do you keep doing that thing with your neck?"

He hesitated for a second, but--well, if this was anything like the adventures when he was eight, he would probably never see Morgan again, and...well, it wasn't like either of them had any real context for the other's life, and...

He pulled down his shirt collar a little, just enough to expose the collar-scar. "Sorry, it's...I try not to do it."

"Ow," Morgan said, sympathetically. Zie hiked up the leg of zir sweatpants and showed off the long scar down zir shin. "I went biking and got my leg tangled in barbed wire. Not recommended."

Oh, good, Morgan hadn't asked for details. Consequence-free zone or not, Isshiri wasn't really interested in talking about his experiences in Feredar. "I can imagine," he said. "My most embarrassing scar is probably this one." He rolled up his right sleeve, showing a sort of jagged crescent just above his elbow, on the outside. "Someone managed to convince me there were dragons nearby, and if I climbed the wall and jumped up and down and called in exactly the right way, they'd come and play with me."

"That is fucking awesome," Morgan said, admiring the scar. "Are there actually dragons around here? 'Cause, just saying, if there are, we're gonna go see them right the fuck now."

"I wish," he said. "But, no. I found what looked like an old nest once, but as far as I know, no one's ever seen a living dragon. Otherwise, I'd find a way to adopt a baby without the mother killing me and go have adventures."

"Totally," Morgan said. "I mean, I've only been dreaming about having my own dragon since I was four. But, oh well." Zie sighed, then added, "I've got a scar in the exact same place, actually. I was jumping into the pond we swim in and hit it on a rock."

"Ouch," he said. "I can't imagine water deep enough to jump in. ...well, I can, because I got to see the ocean, but it still feels weird."

Morgan shrugged. "Well, my home state's the land of ten thousand lakes or some shit like that. Plus Lake Superior. There's water everywhere. You get used to it."

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