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miraruinada​:

“Flat out rejected…” Not like it would be something to be taken seriously out of a complete stranger, and in fact would bring worry if someone had accepted right away.

“Juice…” What type of juice would he like, indeed. What sorts of juice was there? He could go with the classic tried and true orange juice, or he could…

Actually, orange juice will be his choice. It’s the only one that makes sense. He needs something to keep the scurvy at bay, after all. Some good old vitamin C that wasn’t produced naturally in the body, because humans forgot how to make it.

“Is there…” He pauses to take a gander at the kitchen. What an extravagant place. He’d love to cook a meal here if only to take advantage of the utensils.

“Is there a juice box around here? Like an ice box, but for juice?”

     By now Holly has littered her immediate circle with seasonings and food containers of different sizes in pursuit of juice. She perks her head up only when she hears Mercury speak.

     “Ah...” Holly’s eyes squint momentarily, braincells rattling like a drumroll.

     “Hm, there is a large freezer for storing meat. Oh, but it would be frozen, wouldn’t it?” More rattling. 

     Very suddenly the princess rises to her feet and makes her way around to a countertop with a basket of fruit. Plucking a single orange from the pile she turns to her guest with a triumphant grin.

     “Here, even better! Fresh juice. Come on, take it.”

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miraruinada​:

Through the entire journey to her home, he was slowly becoming more and more aware of exactly what kind of wealth this girl had. It was to the point that he even found it ridiculous, wondering how much more gaudy one could get in constructing a home.

When they arrived at her home specifically, he realized just exactly how much.

Walking past the guards (she had fucking guards), he fell upon the dangerous realization that this was probably the one opportunity he had to really take the initiative to build a solid relationship that will blossom into monetary gain in the future. A little bit of networking. If only he got off on the right foot.

“Marry me.”

Brilliant.

     “--Huh?” The princess stops on her heels and swiftly turns to face the proposer. She looks him up and down once before meeting his eyes.

     “I asked what type of juice you like, Mercury? Did you hit your head while wandering about?”

     The expedition to the kitchen continues. Really it’s only a few steps away now, Holly pushes open the white-painted door to a large area with any type of utensil you might want, and some you might not even need. Nothing that looks like it’s been made in the past 20 years, unfortunately.

     “Huh? No one’s in here. Hello~? Hello?” No answer. Holly walks toward the nearest cabinet and opens it with a quick glance.

     “Ugh. Umm.. juice... I don’t know where the juice is... would you look over there?”

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miraruinada​:

“I think it’s very strange,” he answers honestly. He would also like to add that he wonders if someone is playing a prank on him.

“I guess that’s sound logic…” Not one to turn down anyone’s offer for dinner, because food was probably the one constant joy in this world, he decided to just follow along without a word with this strange princess. He would continue following her until they reached whatever destination was waiting behind these walls.

Maybe he could steal some silverware.

    The walk isn’t terribly long, but it’s not short. Past the stone walls and through the city up the cobbled path until they approach several manors much more opulent than the rest of the buildings. She leads him past all these until they come to the largest and most opulent out of them all. 

     “Whewee...” Just a wee bit out of breath, it’s fine.

     “Alright, we’ve made it. Stick closely to me, please. Oh, shall we get some juice first? How about we get some juice. Yes. Juice is nice, what kind of juice would you like?” She asks these very important questions while two guards open the door to allow them in, walking past as soon as it’s open. The kitchen isn’t too far off, now, but there’s certainly enough doors that one might get lost if they wandered aimlessly.

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miraruinada​:

“Oh,” he repeats. Apparently not being a witch was disappointing. He thought it would bring relief instead, given how the threat of being a witch was treated.

The friendly neighborhood parasol had seen better days, probably. Merc hadn’t seen its past, but it might have seen better days. Days where it was used as an actual parasol and not a stick to threaten people with. Truly, this was an unseen tragedy.

“Holly, you…” he pauses out of confusion. “You stopped me because you were suspecting me of being a criminal. Now you’re inviting me to your place for dinner? I mean, I’ll accept, but know what I think of this turn of events.”

     “...” Holly’s face falls flat. She blinks once, twice and then a third. “I... don’t know what you think of this turn of events.” 

     She smiles once more.

     “Well! Either way. If you do anything criminal, the guards will arrest you. It is no problem. What is a problem is boring dinner times. Follow me!” With a flick of her wrist the spoiled little princess beckons her new companion to follow her steps through the great walls that separated the outside from in.

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miraruinada​:

The parasol falls to the ground. A true tragedy on par with the burning of Rome.

“I’m too unfamiliar with magic to really consider myself anything near a witch.” One could say that he is inept at magic. In fact, they could accurately call him an idiot who couldn’t really learn magic easily and in fact took him ages to learn even one spell.

“I’ll answer these questions one at a time,” he says. “I like to take in the scenery. The suspicious plot I’m scheming is what I’m going to eat for dinner. I don’t live here.” He glanced about around them. Seriously, why did she venture alone?

“My name is Mercury. Or something to that effect.”

     “Oh...” She says softly, hints of disappointment slipping through. 

     Just as everything seemed lost for our friend the parasol, Holly bends down to pick it back off the ground. With a couple of shakes and swipes of dirt, it looks... still dirty. It’s fine. She doesn’t appear overly distressed, or even distressed at all.

     “Mercury... like the planet? That’s interesting.”

     “My name is Holly. If you are at a loss for dinner plans, how about coming over to my place?” She motions with her hand to the walls they stood by -- or rather, to what was inside them. 

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miraruinada​:

The parasol was then let go, confusion set on his features for a moment. She’d chased him down and threatened him at umbrellapoint to explain himself just because he was randomly roaming around the area?

He lazily looks her up and down, noting how she’s dressed in the same sort of fashion as the parasol, then came to the conclusion that this was some royalty coming in to stop him herself. A few thoughts circled his mind: how naive is she? Why did she think just a parasol would be enough? Could he take her parasol and sell it?

“Do I have a pointy hat and cackle while riding a broom? No, right? I’m not a witch. So far as I’m aware, I’ve only broken loitering laws, too.”

     And so the parasol falls to the ground, all but forgotten...

     How tragic.

     “That doesn’t mean you can’t still be a witch.” Holly folds her arms and tilts her head to the side. She returns the once-over, starting at his shoes and ending at the crown of his head. Nothing appeared too out of the ordinary. 

     “Why were you loitering? Are you concocting up a suspicious plot? Do you even live here? You don’t, do you? Who are you?” She asks, and asks, and asks-- blinking expectedly at the end as if to let him know he was allowed to speak.

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miraruinada​:

Umbrellas weren’t that much more reassuring than guns. The tip of an umbrella could be rigged with a small spring to inject lethal poison into someone. Thankfully, this was most likely not the case as the tip of the umbrella only poked and didn’t pierce. He didn’t want a repeat of last time.

The bustling town on the other side of the wall. The stranger just on the outskirts, wandering around. Was this place suspicious of any little thing? He had to relent, however, since vigilance was what kept safety. Sometimes it overextended itself, though. Either way, he turns swiftly, the parasol now in one hand as he looks upon the poking culprit.

“Standing. What do you think you’re doing?”

     Indeed, this parasol was 100% just that. A parasol. Ornate and covered in white lace, perhaps a bit garish, but safe for the most part.

     Holly’s eyes widen a little at the swift movement. Wow, how cool. All he was missing was a few sparkles to snazz it up. She does not immediately retract the umbrella -- it’s a little heavy, so sharing the weight is anything but unwelcome. Theft isn’t much of an issue when you can command another to be made with a snap of your fingers.

     “Just standing? Isn’t that a bit dull?” 

     “I’m looking. At you, specifically, making sure you aren’t a suspicious little criminal.” She pauses. “Or a witch.”

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@miraruinada​

     “--Excuse me.”

     Gun to the back, ready to fire... Except it’s only an umbrella. The tip of which prods into the stranger’s backside accusingly. 

     Somewhere a few meters off stands a tall, almost foreboding wall made of stone. It separates the two figures from the bustling town inside, offering only murmurs of activity through the thick cement. Holly had been waiting to catch up to this stranger, who she’d caught sight of mulling around. Finally here he was, at the tip of her parasol.

     “What do you think you’re doing?”

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groznyik‌:

“… Yes, right now. Tzarevna…. we have a meager 3 months to complete our training. The realizations of great ambitions are the fruit of great preparation.“ Dropping into a deadpan tone, a word away from a sigh, he flicked his wrist. The gold bracelets chinked as he did.  “You do not need to change into any special clothes for that. Though, you always wear the same dress regardless, even in battle… alas.“ 

“We need training, and a new move… perhaps even a new name. Tsar Emissaries is already… ‘very 2018′, I have been told. I leave the choice of the new team name to be your honor this time. I will utilize my great mind to create an appropriate tag-team move name.“

     That is unfair. Totally true, but why would you say it?

     She looks back at her headphones, muffled rock music briefly beckoning her back, warning her that there is no turning back beyond this point.

     Anastasia places them down gently.

     “...Hmph.” The softest of hmphs. 

     “If... we are to move immediately, we should capitalize on the excitement surrounding the upcoming festivities of Hallow’s Eve... should we not? Leave the new name to me, and...” She looks Ivan over from the corner of her eye. 

     “Ah... Is there anything that can be done about that blue? Orange is the preferred seasonal shade... or so I am told.”

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     Like an oncoming tidal wave, even if you hear it there is nowhere you can safely run. There is nowhere you can hide. You will experience the glory of the tsar whether you like it or not.

     “--What?” She would like to address that first part, but the second comes with its own absurdity. An absurdity of which, she can’t deny, stirs something within her. Still...

     “Do you mean... right now?... I have yet to pick out a suitable frock.” She answers absurdity with absurdity.

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“Anastasia?… Anastasia.” The Thunder Emperor’s voice, stricter and sterner with the second time, failed reaching over the music sounding from her headphones. He picked up the electric-guitar heavy sounds even from a distance. Only when he made a step into the room, the shaking of foundation succeeded grabbing her attention. A relief, but a mired one. “Mrm.” 

His scepter’s tip pointed now to a simple wall calendar. “Listening to the joy of music without my partaking in your presence is unacceptable. But that is not what I am here for. We have now three months left until Christmas. This is our last chance to claim the title for ourselves… what do you think?”

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     One could say stories were The Doll’s life. Of course, there was The Dream, there were the Messengers and the old man atop the hill... but anything she experienced outside of that endless cycle would come in the way of tales the Hunters would tell her when they visited.

     She was quite content to listen when this woman had offered -- she had no stench of the corrupt blood of a Hunter, nor the soothing purity of the Ancients... What she was, The Doll could not say, except for an excellent storyteller.

     So much so, The Doll actually gives a soft applause by the end of it. That’s the proper reaction, is it not?

     “A beautiful tale, so wonderfully told... I thank you.” And at the end, she gives a slight bow.

     “Ah, me...? I...” She pauses, looking towards her hands as if searching. “Where would I start...? I have never told a story, though thousands have passed through the lips I serve...”

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“…and such was the tale.“ As she finished the thrilling story of a young hero and his friends venturing into a town overran by a pelagic curse and met with accusations of heresy at all corners, the storyteller bat her eyes open again. There were moments of thrill and uncertainty before the ominous gloom, but a thread of hope reached through the darkness of the plot’s framework to the end. “Thank you for listening… I hope you enjoyed it.” Caster offered a faint but polite smile to the porcelain-like doll. “If you would like to hear another, I wouldn’t mind… or would you like to share one yourself?”