Meetings

[begrimed]

Behind an ever traveling emerald green door (you'll find it when you really need it, but it never seems to be in the same place in the palace) lies a quaint office, often slightly ajar with a few notes of music beckoning guests inside.

In the center of the room lies an ornate cedar wood desk, cluttered but just short of messy, with various sheet music piled on top. The bookcases on each side are in a similar state, books shelved away neatly were it not for the lack of any semblance of alphabetization.

The boss of this domain can often be found with his feet up with no regard for decorum; a casual enough atmosphere for casual enough chats, surely.

Those who venture into the palace to seek out the emerald green door will find it's different than usual, sturdier, with a particularly bright sheen and emblazoned with an insignia.

The door is also always closed, though whether it's locked or not depends on when you visit.

Comments

[sempiternel]

If they are not, then why would they have information for us? I’ll ask plainly: are the dead still involved in this game? Regardless of that, is it possible to communicate with them?

[begrimed]

[ He shifts again, casting his gaze to the ceiling and then back to her. ]

My lady, you're not forgetting the part I play, are you? Their stories are over, and anything significant beyond that, would be off script.

And I can't let the story veer off course.

[sempiternel]

I never forget the part you play.

[ Just like she never forgets her part. A smile that’s more automatic than anything else. ]

I ask because at worst you will not answer. That leaves me in the same spot I was at before, so essentially I don’t lose anything by asking, no?

Thank you for your answer regardless.

[begrimed]

[ He laughs a little. ]

I wish that was the worst thing.

[ Small text intentional, but then he shakes his head. ]

Did you have anything else to ask me, my lady? Like my favorite color, perhaps?

[sempiternel]

[ An entirely list actually. ]

Oh, all right. What is your favorite color?

[begrimed]

Green. And yours?

[sempiternel]

[ She wears a lot of blue, but her favorite color would be... ]

Red, I think.

[ Because that color looks best on Lady Melissa. ]

[begrimed]

[ Honestly fair because he wears all purple. ]

I won't forget. Mind if I ask one? [ Well he sorta did, but he bounced off hers. ]

[sempiternel]

[ It would sound more romantic if he didn't already admit he can't forget anything. ]

You may.

[begrimed]

[ Them's the breaks. ]

Does my lady have a favorite flower?

[sempiternel]

[ She's received so many, but... ]

Hydrangeas...? And yours?

[begrimed]

[ He seems to think on this for a moment. ]

Blue Cornflowers.

[sempiternel]

[ There seems to be weight in his words. ]

May I ask why?

[begrimed]

[ Tilting his head, considering. ]

Some things are nostalgic, even for me.

[sempiternel]

[ She touches her pin, thoughtfully, considering his words. ]

... I’ll keep that in mind. The archives should have something on flowers, I hope.

1/2

[begrimed]

They might, they might. [ He almost looks a bit bashful right now, averting his eyes from her to the side. ]

[begrimed]

[ So he catches the moment a small brown mouse enters the room right away and a blink of realization later- ]

Yuri. You need to go. Punish me later, OK? [ It's soft, but firm. ]

1/2

[sempiternel]

[ ... Her name? He's never before - ]

[sempiternel]

[ Then the rest of his words and the way his tone is set reach her. She nods and takes quick steps to the door. There's the split-second pause at the door, but she manages to hold back the urge to glance at him one last time - (her name) - and leaves the room with a soft: ]

Till next time.

[ If she runs all the back to her room with her flushed ears covered, at least no one sees. ]