OOC: Thank you all very much for your patience!
@Blight and Edgar
The Pawn gives the lad a wink and a lazy salute, straightening up again as he briefly glances over his beaked-and-feathered head at what must be more approaching parties interested in the offerings at his stand. "Thanks, kid. Happy Halloween."
As Blight meanders off, Edgar rolls in, and the Pawn once more leans across the counter, beaming with his eyes alone. "Evening, sir. Love the costume." He gestures at the placard on the corner of the stand, listing a selection of items available to visitors, both edible and inedible; there are hot drinks, pastries, treats and toys, all of them bearing the same familiar-unfamiliarity of the rest of this strange place. Edgar will notice that the coffee in particular is branded 'Czarbucks.'
"You get one free thing of your choice, or mine, if you aren't feeling any specific way. What'll it be?"
@Tato
The Czar has been moving his own crowds right along, dispensing strange gift upon strange gift to those daring enough to approach him and stick their hand into a pot of obscuring fog. The huge chessman appears to be delighted every single time, as if each surprise were meant for him.
"Don't spend it all in the same place!" he bellows after the most recent departure, who is puzzling over what appears to be a haunted golden coin with a ghastly aura and a pair of rapidly vibrating bat wings. Tato approaches, and the Czar immediately turns his eyeless regard upon him, leaning over with a growing grin as he, presumably, takes a closer look at the seraphic 'costume.'
"Why, that's the most enthusiastic 'hello' I've received all evening," the King piece chuckles warmly. "I'm positively certain that the cauldron will have something very nice for you."
As Tato puts his hand deep into the fog, something bumps up against it almost immediately, insistently. Something with fur...? Or is it feathers?
The creature floats up out of the haze and immediately lands on Tato's shoulder, draping its luxurious tail about his neck like a shawl and gently folding its many wings with the soft elegance of a bird. It gazes piercingly outwards as it emits a deep, rumbling purr.
"I," the Czar looks genuinely shocked, "don't remember putting anything like that in there..."
OOC: I'll get to your Czar prize next post, Blight. Thanks again for your patience! I'm glad you're enjoying it so far.
@Blight and Edgar
The Pawn gives the lad a wink and a lazy salute, straightening up again as he briefly glances over his beaked-and-feathered head at what must be more approaching parties interested in the offerings at his stand. "Thanks, kid. Happy Halloween."
As Blight meanders off, Edgar rolls in, and the Pawn once more leans across the counter, beaming with his eyes alone. "Evening, sir. Love the costume." He gestures at the placard on the corner of the stand, listing a selection of items available to visitors, both edible and inedible; there are hot drinks, pastries, treats and toys, all of them bearing the same familiar-unfamiliarity of the rest of this strange place. Edgar will notice that the coffee in particular is branded 'Czarbucks.'
"You get one free thing of your choice, or mine, if you aren't feeling any specific way. What'll it be?"
@Tato
The Czar has been moving his own crowds right along, dispensing strange gift upon strange gift to those daring enough to approach him and stick their hand into a pot of obscuring fog. The huge chessman appears to be delighted every single time, as if each surprise were meant for him.
"Don't spend it all in the same place!" he bellows after the most recent departure, who is puzzling over what appears to be a haunted golden coin with a ghastly aura and a pair of rapidly vibrating bat wings. Tato approaches, and the Czar immediately turns his eyeless regard upon him, leaning over with a growing grin as he, presumably, takes a closer look at the seraphic 'costume.'
"Why, that's the most enthusiastic 'hello' I've received all evening," the King piece chuckles warmly. "I'm positively certain that the cauldron will have something very nice for you."
As Tato puts his hand deep into the fog, something bumps up against it almost immediately, insistently. Something with fur...? Or is it feathers?
YOU GOT...
DOMINION MARBLE CAT
A post-beast. It's about the size of a normal cat, albeit quite round.
This one has wings, a VERY spooky eye, and a terrifying aura of divine majesty despite its cute little fat body.
This one has wings, a VERY spooky eye, and a terrifying aura of divine majesty despite its cute little fat body.
The creature floats up out of the haze and immediately lands on Tato's shoulder, draping its luxurious tail about his neck like a shawl and gently folding its many wings with the soft elegance of a bird. It gazes piercingly outwards as it emits a deep, rumbling purr.
"I," the Czar looks genuinely shocked, "don't remember putting anything like that in there..."
OOC: I'll get to your Czar prize next post, Blight. Thanks again for your patience! I'm glad you're enjoying it so far.
Tato watches as the odd critter emerges from the fog filled cauldron, and the answer to the question "Costume or not?" is answered as the once googly eyes that rested in his hair snap straight to staring at the cat without hesitating, and the wings on his back puffing out with excitement as if they were just blow dried.
His pupils dilate as if he's a cat in his own spirit and his mind races with a feeling of ecstasy that could potentially explode across the area like a landmine, only collapsing the overrun bridge of joy as it perches on his shoulder. He turns his head back to Czar with a face so bright it's the reason the sun wears glasses and with a rupture of happiness, he squeals out the words "Thank you!!"
Tato tries thinking of some sort of way he can grant back the ball of fluff, excitement and thousands of parental complaints he'll get before quickly reaching into his sleeve and taking out two small packs of twizzlers, relinquishing them to the Czar and giving him a kind wave before carefully yet hastily running off with his new found feline friend, his wings dragging behind him like a stray blanket set on his back.
OOC: You're welcome! And if you don't mind me asking something quick, is the cat a sort of character handed over for my use or an event related thing only?
His pupils dilate as if he's a cat in his own spirit and his mind races with a feeling of ecstasy that could potentially explode across the area like a landmine, only collapsing the overrun bridge of joy as it perches on his shoulder. He turns his head back to Czar with a face so bright it's the reason the sun wears glasses and with a rupture of happiness, he squeals out the words "Thank you!!"
Tato tries thinking of some sort of way he can grant back the ball of fluff, excitement and thousands of parental complaints he'll get before quickly reaching into his sleeve and taking out two small packs of twizzlers, relinquishing them to the Czar and giving him a kind wave before carefully yet hastily running off with his new found feline friend, his wings dragging behind him like a stray blanket set on his back.
OOC: You're welcome! And if you don't mind me asking something quick, is the cat a sort of character handed over for my use or an event related thing only?
OOC: The critters and/or treats you receive are yours to display, enjoy and play with however you like, art and concept, in whatever world or realm you prefer. Just don't sell em or say you made em. They are gifts from me and the Czar to you and your character!
@ Tato and Blight
The Czar's bewilderment at the peculiarity produced by the cauldron is promptly replaced by his customary delight as he replies, "You are most welcome. I-I think." A gold furrow briefly appears where perhaps a brow ought to be as he regards the celestial cat and its big, black eye, a momentary distraction before he receives a second surprise.
The huge chessman accepts the gift of candy graciously in one massive hand, exclaiming, "Why, thank you! That is the first time anyone has given me a treat." Beaming, he returns Tato's warm wave, watching the fluffy-winged, many-eyed creature take his leave before movement at the cauldron returns his attention to the task at hand.
"Welcome, welcome!" the Czar bids to Blight, gesturing grandly with the comparatively tiny packages of Twizzlers still in his hand. "Don't be shy. Put that arm all the way in there. If you feel anything strange, don't worry about it! Haha!"
Blight's hand sinks into the fog, and touches something soft and warm...
The prize makes a gentle 'prrp' as it is pulled from the cauldron, blinking its one eye blearily at its pale-haired acquirer. So far as festive marble cats go, this one looks almost charmingly normal, and unusually content to be dangling from the hands of a stranger for, well, any type of cat.
"Oh! That's where he went," the Czar remarks. "Always napping in the strangest places... Ah, but it seems that he has chosen you to be his new keeper. He must find your presence very comfortable."
@ Tato and Blight
The Czar's bewilderment at the peculiarity produced by the cauldron is promptly replaced by his customary delight as he replies, "You are most welcome. I-I think." A gold furrow briefly appears where perhaps a brow ought to be as he regards the celestial cat and its big, black eye, a momentary distraction before he receives a second surprise.
The huge chessman accepts the gift of candy graciously in one massive hand, exclaiming, "Why, thank you! That is the first time anyone has given me a treat." Beaming, he returns Tato's warm wave, watching the fluffy-winged, many-eyed creature take his leave before movement at the cauldron returns his attention to the task at hand.
"Welcome, welcome!" the Czar bids to Blight, gesturing grandly with the comparatively tiny packages of Twizzlers still in his hand. "Don't be shy. Put that arm all the way in there. If you feel anything strange, don't worry about it! Haha!"
Blight's hand sinks into the fog, and touches something soft and warm...
YOU GOT...
The rotund creature seems to be capable of, at any moment, altering its consistency to resemble putty or something hard and bristly--a bit like a regular cat, come to think of it.
SLEEPY MARBLE CAT
A post-beast. It's about the size of a normal cat, albeit quite round. This one looks like you just woke it up from a nap.
The rotund creature seems to be capable of, at any moment, altering its consistency to resemble putty or something hard and bristly--a bit like a regular cat, come to think of it.
The prize makes a gentle 'prrp' as it is pulled from the cauldron, blinking its one eye blearily at its pale-haired acquirer. So far as festive marble cats go, this one looks almost charmingly normal, and unusually content to be dangling from the hands of a stranger for, well, any type of cat.
"Oh! That's where he went," the Czar remarks. "Always napping in the strangest places... Ah, but it seems that he has chosen you to be his new keeper. He must find your presence very comfortable."
OOC: Alrighty, and thanks for the fun time! Random fun fact but you'll probably be a name on a wall of sticky notes I hve of people I've gotten art from for years to come 
Watching Tato and his new companion with thinly-veiled envy, he could only hope he, too, would receive a creature so strange and wonderful. And then it was his turn, and he was reaching into the unknown, eagerness tinged by just a little trepidation.
When his arm emerged from the fog with the sleepy-looking cat, his jealousy quickly turned to relieved satisfaction. Well, this one was not all that strange or unusual, but it was still perfectly wonderful, and seemed content to be held by him. He stared at the creature in awe for a moment before cradling it in both arms. The cloth and feather wings of his costume enveloped it; he supposed, well, hoped, that it was quite a cozy place for the creature to go back to napping.
"Oh, he's wonderful..." The boy breathed when he was finally looking up at the Czar again. "Absolutely wonderful. Thank you. I'm sorry that I have nothing to repay you with..." He thought of Tato, giving the Czar that candy. If only he himself had thought to be that considerate... He glanced down again, feeling a bit inadequate but, as usual, determined to hide that. "...Unless you like... Ah... Leaves." The ones he had picked up earlier were peeking out of his pockets, autumnal hues popping against the black of his costume.
When his arm emerged from the fog with the sleepy-looking cat, his jealousy quickly turned to relieved satisfaction. Well, this one was not all that strange or unusual, but it was still perfectly wonderful, and seemed content to be held by him. He stared at the creature in awe for a moment before cradling it in both arms. The cloth and feather wings of his costume enveloped it; he supposed, well, hoped, that it was quite a cozy place for the creature to go back to napping.
"Oh, he's wonderful..." The boy breathed when he was finally looking up at the Czar again. "Absolutely wonderful. Thank you. I'm sorry that I have nothing to repay you with..." He thought of Tato, giving the Czar that candy. If only he himself had thought to be that considerate... He glanced down again, feeling a bit inadequate but, as usual, determined to hide that. "...Unless you like... Ah... Leaves." The ones he had picked up earlier were peeking out of his pockets, autumnal hues popping against the black of his costume.
The somnolent marble cat, upon being held so warmly, makes itself quite comfortable, curling its fat tail around its fat body and promptly falling asleep with its rust-colored head nestled in the crook of Blight's arm.
The Czar is still grinning when the boy looks back up at him again.
"Repay me? Whyever for? It's All Hallow's Eve! Your presence and joy and SHRIEKING FEAR," he clenches his fist and shakes it dramatically at the sky before promptly returning to his (relative) normalcy, "are payment enough, and the reason why I do this at all! Why anyone does, on this night of all nights! Ah, but, I'll tell you what..." The huge chessman leans down conspiratorially, raising a hand the size of Blight's entire torso to shield his whisper, "I've been standing here for hours, and I'm dying for a drink from one of the stands. One of the sugary ones."
One of the guards standing nearby cants his long head in a way that manages to convey a raised eyebrow.
"Also, don't tell anyone," the Czar adds, before straightening up again with a smile that soon grows back into a grin that encompasses most of his head.
The Czar is still grinning when the boy looks back up at him again.
"Repay me? Whyever for? It's All Hallow's Eve! Your presence and joy and SHRIEKING FEAR," he clenches his fist and shakes it dramatically at the sky before promptly returning to his (relative) normalcy, "are payment enough, and the reason why I do this at all! Why anyone does, on this night of all nights! Ah, but, I'll tell you what..." The huge chessman leans down conspiratorially, raising a hand the size of Blight's entire torso to shield his whisper, "I've been standing here for hours, and I'm dying for a drink from one of the stands. One of the sugary ones."
One of the guards standing nearby cants his long head in a way that manages to convey a raised eyebrow.
"Also, don't tell anyone," the Czar adds, before straightening up again with a smile that soon grows back into a grin that encompasses most of his head.
"Costume." Edgar says, softly, a statement expressed in confusion without the lilt of question. He'd blearily look down at himself, and pat his torso, as though possibly he had been put into or put on a costume he'd forgotten. "Ah! Thank you." He got that a lot, strangely, even not around this time of the year. He'd look back at the Pawn, whom he did not immediately place as an animated chess piece despite all of his time spent handling them. To him this looked to be a strange, pumpkin-painted talking statue of some kind, and the way the hands were disembodied only further seemed to add to his disorientation, and intense interest. The doctor allowed his gaze to follow from the glove and up, where there was no arm, just a gap between the hand and shoulder. It filled him with a strange mixture of familiarity and unreality.
Perhaps he was dreaming.
He wasn't so out-of-sorts as to not be able to pay attention, however, and he would tilt his head owlishly at the friendly offer of food roulette. His glasses would dance with whatever light was still present this evening, little candleflames swimming across the lenses like molten fishly spirits trapped within the glass.
"I'll take the gamble, sir. Your choice." The bandaged man would intone, stepping closer to the booth. "Something... restorative, if you don't mind."
Perhaps he was dreaming.
He wasn't so out-of-sorts as to not be able to pay attention, however, and he would tilt his head owlishly at the friendly offer of food roulette. His glasses would dance with whatever light was still present this evening, little candleflames swimming across the lenses like molten fishly spirits trapped within the glass.
"I'll take the gamble, sir. Your choice." The bandaged man would intone, stepping closer to the booth. "Something... restorative, if you don't mind."
"...Ah... I understand. Of course." With a nod that matched the conspiratorial nature of the Czar's whisper, the boy turned and casually wandered off, careful not to jostle his sleeping companion as he moved.
He wondered how these beings could even eat or drink properly, but shrugged it off as 'ehh, magic', and focused on the task at hand. His eyes scanned the stands, assessing the variety of hot drinks available. Only when he had found something he thought sufficiently sugary to suit the Czar's request did something occur to him, and he cleared his throat to get the attention of the one running this stand.
"Excuse me, are the drinks... Free? Or... What type of currency do you take?"
He had already been given two things for free; he felt it might be a bit impolite to expect the drinks to be free, too. Even if he wasn't getting this one for himself. On the other hand, he had no idea how, exactly, he was supposed to pay... He carefully searched through his pockets with one hand. Surely, he had had the forethought to bring a few coins...?
He wondered how these beings could even eat or drink properly, but shrugged it off as 'ehh, magic', and focused on the task at hand. His eyes scanned the stands, assessing the variety of hot drinks available. Only when he had found something he thought sufficiently sugary to suit the Czar's request did something occur to him, and he cleared his throat to get the attention of the one running this stand.
"Excuse me, are the drinks... Free? Or... What type of currency do you take?"
He had already been given two things for free; he felt it might be a bit impolite to expect the drinks to be free, too. Even if he wasn't getting this one for himself. On the other hand, he had no idea how, exactly, he was supposed to pay... He carefully searched through his pockets with one hand. Surely, he had had the forethought to bring a few coins...?
@Blight
No doubt, with time, Blight would get to see exactly how the chessmen eat and drink--but first, of course, he must procure something to provide.
The stand-runner he approaches this time is a black Knight whose beetle-shiny carapace has been painted with the luminescent bones of an ominous equine skeleton. She rotates her long head to grin at the young human with glowing teeth that aren't quite her own. Like the Czar, she does not appear to have eyes, and yet seems capable of sight.
"Currency," she repeats, mildly taken aback by the formality and unfamiliarity of the question, before she seems to understand, "Oh, actually, everything on the palace grounds is free to first-time visitors today. It's Halloween, you know? The Czar's birthday. He does this every year." The Knight leans on the invisible 'elbow' of a long black glove that doesn't appear to connect to a bicep. "So, what can I get for you?"
The menu at this stand has quite a collection of beverages that would not look out of place at all in a modern coffee shop: a modest assortment of seasonal lattes, fancy teas, spiced hot chocolates and more, proudly supplied by a brand called Czarbucks. The Czar's own grinning likeness beams out from the black and gold logo.
@Edgar
The Pawn nods his pumpkin head, already beginning to move to fulfill the Nothingman's quiet request. "Coming right up, then." He grabs a cup decorated with stamped bats and moons, and begins to fill it with something hot and aromatic from one of several large, dark urns, to which he adds a drizzle of honey, a sprinkle of spice, a fluffy head of creamy foam and a full stick of cinnamon before he seals it all under a paper lid.
"There you are," he declares as he delivers it, setting it smartly down on the counter before returning to his casual lean.
YOU GOT...
SMOKEY MULLED TEA
A bold, festive beverage: freshly brewed lapsang souchong tea made richer still with fall spices and aromatic citrus, tempered with a bit of honey and a splash of sweet cream. Such a drink definitely deserves a big stoneware mug, but it has been delivered in a branded seasonal to-go cup, instead.
"I hope I got it right," the Pawn adds. "You seem like a tea drinking sort of fellow to me, and an appreciator of the strong kind, at that. Either way, it'll keep you going. Enjoy!"
"Oh! His birthday." He said this like he had just had some grand epiphany. Suddenly, it all made a lot more sense... If this doubled as a Halloween celebration and a birthday party for royalty...
"I see. Well, that is quite generous." He scanned the menu again, just to be sure, before inquiring after a particular drink. "I'll take a pumpkin spice latte with caramel, please." He decided. He thought that seemed like a good choice: sweet, seasonal, and caffeinated. Hopefully the Czar would agree.
"I see. Well, that is quite generous." He scanned the menu again, just to be sure, before inquiring after a particular drink. "I'll take a pumpkin spice latte with caramel, please." He decided. He thought that seemed like a good choice: sweet, seasonal, and caffeinated. Hopefully the Czar would agree.
The Knight smiles brightly. "Great choice. I like your costume, by the way. Very quoth the Raven: nevermore. I thought about being a vulture this year, but I did that last year, so... Well, anyway! Pumpkin spice latte with caramel coming up." She pushes off the counter and starts concocting the drink with a speed and flair that would not be out of place in any modern day, human barista, apparently just as accustomed to assembling one of the most popular options of the season.
When she's done, she plants the cup down on the pickup end, and sets a much smaller, open paper cup beside it. It appears to be full of milk or cream. "For your little friend, whenever he wakes up," she adds cheerfully, pointing at the dozing marble cat, who is still a warm, purring fixture in Blight's arms.
When she's done, she plants the cup down on the pickup end, and sets a much smaller, open paper cup beside it. It appears to be full of milk or cream. "For your little friend, whenever he wakes up," she adds cheerfully, pointing at the dozing marble cat, who is still a warm, purring fixture in Blight's arms.
"Thank you." He smiled proudly when the Knight complimented his costume. He was glad this outfit had been such a success. "I like yours, as well." He added while she began preparing his order. "It's a little unnerving... And I mean that in the best way."
Not long after, he accepted the drink and the extra little cup with another thank you, and another smile, too, this one directed at the sleeping marble cat. "I'm sure he would thank you as well... If he were awake... And could speak."
Not wanting to take up too much of the Knight's time, and not having a free hand to wave with, he inclined his head politely and turned away. It was not the easiest thing, carrying a sleeping feline and two cups, but he was able to manage and began making his way back towards the Czar. With the utmost nonchalance, he held out the latte.
"Here. I thought you might like this." He said casually, as if he hadn't been sent out on the task. "Oh, and..." He lowered his voice, grinning knowingly. "Happy birthday."
Not long after, he accepted the drink and the extra little cup with another thank you, and another smile, too, this one directed at the sleeping marble cat. "I'm sure he would thank you as well... If he were awake... And could speak."
Not wanting to take up too much of the Knight's time, and not having a free hand to wave with, he inclined his head politely and turned away. It was not the easiest thing, carrying a sleeping feline and two cups, but he was able to manage and began making his way back towards the Czar. With the utmost nonchalance, he held out the latte.
"Here. I thought you might like this." He said casually, as if he hadn't been sent out on the task. "Oh, and..." He lowered his voice, grinning knowingly. "Happy birthday."
The Knight chuckles approvingly. "He does seem like he'd be the polite sort of marble cat. Enjoy, and have a happy Halloween." She bids her own farewell with a crisp salute before turning her attention to a pair of other arrivals as Blight takes his leave.
The Czar is just where the lad had left him, waving cheerfully after a couple who seem to have come away with a pair of very talkative jack-o-rats. His brow appears, arched in delight, above the monocle when he notices Blight's return.
"Bless you, son," he murmurs, collecting the drink as covertly as if it were an illegal substance. The perfectly people-sized cup is comically small in the Czar's huge hand, pinched delicately between his thumb and only two fingers. At the well wishes, he responds in mock dismay, "Oh, who told?" Then, laughing slyly, he tips the sugary drink up against his brassy grin, and his teeth vanish as if behind lips, although the golden smile lines remain--as they would, of course, on a person whose head was not a black pillar of iron.
One of the Czar's attendants, a Pawn with very droopy, weary eyes, notices what he is doing, and his face somehow drops further still. "Your Majesty! The court physician--"
"Shut up, Igor, I don't want to hear it," the Czar swallows to reply, smiling widely. "Ahh, it's beautiful. Perfect. Thank you very much, young man. What is your name?"
The Czar is just where the lad had left him, waving cheerfully after a couple who seem to have come away with a pair of very talkative jack-o-rats. His brow appears, arched in delight, above the monocle when he notices Blight's return.
"Bless you, son," he murmurs, collecting the drink as covertly as if it were an illegal substance. The perfectly people-sized cup is comically small in the Czar's huge hand, pinched delicately between his thumb and only two fingers. At the well wishes, he responds in mock dismay, "Oh, who told?" Then, laughing slyly, he tips the sugary drink up against his brassy grin, and his teeth vanish as if behind lips, although the golden smile lines remain--as they would, of course, on a person whose head was not a black pillar of iron.
One of the Czar's attendants, a Pawn with very droopy, weary eyes, notices what he is doing, and his face somehow drops further still. "Your Majesty! The court physician--"
"Shut up, Igor, I don't want to hear it," the Czar swallows to reply, smiling widely. "Ahh, it's beautiful. Perfect. Thank you very much, young man. What is your name?"
"...I have my sources." The boy said cryptically. On the off chance it actually was against some sort of rule to tell guests that it was the Czar's birthday, he did not want to get the Knight in trouble by saying she had told him. And even if it wasn't really a problem, he thought it more fun to be mysterious. This effect was slightly dampened by the big silly grin currently on his face; if he were to see his own expression right now, he would probably be embarrassed, but he could not help feeling a little giddy when the Czar was addressing him, so jovially, in a way he was not yet used to but had always wanted to hear.
He watched in fascination as the Czar accepted the latte and began to drink. He supposed, if he had thought about it, this would be exactly how he would expect a chess piece person to drink... But he hadn't let himself think about it much, so seeing it in person was both strange and intriguing. What a way to sum up this whole experience, really.
His expression faded somewhat when the Czar inquired after his name. After a brief pause, he said: "I am called Blight." Sometimes, he didn't mind. But other times, like now, it made him wince. He really should find something better, shouldn't he? But this would have to do for now.
He watched in fascination as the Czar accepted the latte and began to drink. He supposed, if he had thought about it, this would be exactly how he would expect a chess piece person to drink... But he hadn't let himself think about it much, so seeing it in person was both strange and intriguing. What a way to sum up this whole experience, really.
His expression faded somewhat when the Czar inquired after his name. After a brief pause, he said: "I am called Blight." Sometimes, he didn't mind. But other times, like now, it made him wince. He really should find something better, shouldn't he? But this would have to do for now.
“I beg your pardon, what was that? Bliant?” the Czar repeats incorrectly, frowning thoughtfully with a serious wrinkle at his dark brow, just for a moment. Something about that grim expression—remarkably communicative for a man whose face is mostly just a smile—indicates that he had, in fact, caught the name as spoken, and perhaps even the weight on “Bliant’s” heart as he spoke it.
Before he can be corrected, the Czar grins at him, again, and extends his free hand as if for a handshake. “You have done me a most excellent service tonight, Mr. Bliant. You will always be welcome in New Prague.”
Before he can be corrected, the Czar grins at him, again, and extends his free hand as if for a handshake. “You have done me a most excellent service tonight, Mr. Bliant. You will always be welcome in New Prague.”
He seemed to consider correcting the Czar, but decided against it almost right away. It was probably too much trouble to bother reiterating a name he wasn't even entirely keen on using, anyway; what was the point in making a big deal out of it? Besides, he didn't want to discuss this further, and he guessed the Czar might have sensed something about that, because he had quickly moved on... And the boy was relieved.
He reached out to shake the Czar's hand, with some hesitation because he was not overly fond of touch, yet still with the utmost courtesy. After all, the Czar had treated him well; being polite was the only right thing to do, he figured. He could certainly survive a quick handshake.
With a respectful dip of his head and another smile, he said: "Thank you. I'm sure I will return someday... Next October, perhaps."
He reached out to shake the Czar's hand, with some hesitation because he was not overly fond of touch, yet still with the utmost courtesy. After all, the Czar had treated him well; being polite was the only right thing to do, he figured. He could certainly survive a quick handshake.
With a respectful dip of his head and another smile, he said: "Thank you. I'm sure I will return someday... Next October, perhaps."
The Czar's hand is, of course, massive, but his gloved fingers--effectively only his forefinger and thumb--come together gently around Blight's own to deliver a single firm shake. The gesture is so slight for the huge chessman, but for someone Blight's size, it probably rocks his whole arm, if not his entire body. The marble cat blinks awake, repositions itself a little, and then promptly falls back asleep.
Appearing pleased by the exchange, the Czar releases the lad in short order and straightens back up to his full stature. "Oh, indeed," he says, "or perhaps sooner than that. Either way, we will be waiting." Grinning larger and brighter still, the chessman inclines his head and raises the latte as if to toast the young man. "Have a happy Halloween. That," he rolls his wrist with an aristocratic flourish, "is a royal decree."
Appearing pleased by the exchange, the Czar releases the lad in short order and straightens back up to his full stature. "Oh, indeed," he says, "or perhaps sooner than that. Either way, we will be waiting." Grinning larger and brighter still, the chessman inclines his head and raises the latte as if to toast the young man. "Have a happy Halloween. That," he rolls his wrist with an aristocratic flourish, "is a royal decree."
Still smiling, and with a quick wave of the arm not cradling the marble cat, the boy turned and took his leave. He would spend some more time wandering the grounds, enjoying the spookily festive atmosphere, before inevitably departing in the same vaguely magical way in which he had arrived. This place seemed wonderful, certainly one he would like to return to someday. Whether that be sooner or later, though, one thing was certain: the memory of this Hallow's Eve would never leave him.
((Thank you so much for hosting this event, I really enjoyed it
))
((Thank you so much for hosting this event, I really enjoyed it
))
With incredibly rapt attention, Edgar observed the armless but two-handed creature make his drink. No arms. The hands moved silently through the air like gloves on strings, like a puppet, empty fingers unfilled by visible hands. He observed this, absolutely entranced, until the Pawn turns around and delivers the drink.
It smells lovely, the bit he can detect from the tiny hole in the lid. His empty stomach twists. Edgar assesses the countertop quickly, and sees that the Pawn has laid an 'arm' just adjacent to the cup of stirrers. Bingo.
Edgar would feign clumsiness and, with an outstretched and similarly gloved hand, would knock the cup over and spill the stirrers which scattered everywhere, but primarily onto the place where an arm should be. They sat there, suspended on the invisible surface, and Edgar felt a slow and solid feeling settle in his stomach.
"Oh dear! I do apologize. I must be more dehydrated than I thought. Mierde." He'd move to start helping replace the stirrers that may be salvageable and sterile enough still to use. The rest are either on the ground or have disappeared entirely from sight, probably never to be seen again until later, or maybe not at all... Edgar wasn't sure, in this place, if the same rules applied as they did to his home.
Fascinating to behold, however, that there was indeed an invisible appendage there. He cast a surreptitious glance away from his nimble pinching and pickings-up to peek and see just how many of these creatures were about, curiosity absolutely ignited. Another line in the distance, and a large fellow, so much larger than himself. He could see the Czar far more clearly now, and by the looks of him, he appeared to be very much in charge.
"Sorry again, about that. Thank you for the tea, it seems a lovely one..." He'd intone, voice distracted and low, and grabbed the cup, tip-tapping away with his hard-soled shoes and cane, to stand in line to meet the Czar.
He had a couple of questions.
It smells lovely, the bit he can detect from the tiny hole in the lid. His empty stomach twists. Edgar assesses the countertop quickly, and sees that the Pawn has laid an 'arm' just adjacent to the cup of stirrers. Bingo.
Edgar would feign clumsiness and, with an outstretched and similarly gloved hand, would knock the cup over and spill the stirrers which scattered everywhere, but primarily onto the place where an arm should be. They sat there, suspended on the invisible surface, and Edgar felt a slow and solid feeling settle in his stomach.
"Oh dear! I do apologize. I must be more dehydrated than I thought. Mierde." He'd move to start helping replace the stirrers that may be salvageable and sterile enough still to use. The rest are either on the ground or have disappeared entirely from sight, probably never to be seen again until later, or maybe not at all... Edgar wasn't sure, in this place, if the same rules applied as they did to his home.
Fascinating to behold, however, that there was indeed an invisible appendage there. He cast a surreptitious glance away from his nimble pinching and pickings-up to peek and see just how many of these creatures were about, curiosity absolutely ignited. Another line in the distance, and a large fellow, so much larger than himself. He could see the Czar far more clearly now, and by the looks of him, he appeared to be very much in charge.
"Sorry again, about that. Thank you for the tea, it seems a lovely one..." He'd intone, voice distracted and low, and grabbed the cup, tip-tapping away with his hard-soled shoes and cane, to stand in line to meet the Czar.
He had a couple of questions.
The Pawn blinks in surprise at Edgar's fumble, his first instinct being, apparently, to try to catch the tea he had just so artfully produced. The lid is a saving grace--it didn't go spilling everywhere the way it certainly would have in anything less secure.
"Not to worry," he assures the Nothingman politely, setting the drink back upright and brushing the lost stirrers off of his phantoform limb without any awareness whatsoever that this precise detail was the very object of Edgar's intense interest. Tossing them into some receptacle hidden behind the counter, he smiles, again, with his eyes. "Here--how about some water, as well?"
Without waiting for a response, he turns about to fetch some, and soon has set it down where the tea had been. "There you are, sir. Have a happy Halloween!"
As Edgar takes his leave, more eager cemetery visitors take his place at the counter. His tip-taps are accompanied by the crunch of leaves and the rustling of the oak trees' shaggy heads as a wind rolls bitingly through the boughs. The darkening day is growing ever colder, but the tea in his hand is hot.
The Czar is an intimidating but boisterous figure ahead, his broad gestures and cackling laughter never quite easing the edge off of his stature or the surreal character of his wide, toothsome smile. As he draws closer to the end of the line, Edgar is able to get a better look at him, and might notice that he appears to be holding a (relatively) tiny cup, not so unlike his own.
"And don't feed it after midnight!" the Czar warns the chessman just ahead of the Nothingman, feigning a whisper that's still quite loud enough to hear. The young Pawn mumbles an acknowledgment and a thank you, fumbling out of the way with an armful of hair and eyes that all rotate to peer at Edgar over its acquirer's shoulder.
The Czar, too, is looking at him, somehow, without any eyes at all: only an inscrutable monocle, bright in the lamplight.
"My, my, that is commitment," the King piece rumbles in admiration, but does not elaborate--presumably he is referring to Edgar's fastidious application of bandages to his entire person, evidenced to a keen observer by the way the wrappings continue into collar and cuffs. "Step right up, Professor. Let's see what the cauldron has got for you, shall we?"
"Not to worry," he assures the Nothingman politely, setting the drink back upright and brushing the lost stirrers off of his phantoform limb without any awareness whatsoever that this precise detail was the very object of Edgar's intense interest. Tossing them into some receptacle hidden behind the counter, he smiles, again, with his eyes. "Here--how about some water, as well?"
Without waiting for a response, he turns about to fetch some, and soon has set it down where the tea had been. "There you are, sir. Have a happy Halloween!"
As Edgar takes his leave, more eager cemetery visitors take his place at the counter. His tip-taps are accompanied by the crunch of leaves and the rustling of the oak trees' shaggy heads as a wind rolls bitingly through the boughs. The darkening day is growing ever colder, but the tea in his hand is hot.
The Czar is an intimidating but boisterous figure ahead, his broad gestures and cackling laughter never quite easing the edge off of his stature or the surreal character of his wide, toothsome smile. As he draws closer to the end of the line, Edgar is able to get a better look at him, and might notice that he appears to be holding a (relatively) tiny cup, not so unlike his own.
"And don't feed it after midnight!" the Czar warns the chessman just ahead of the Nothingman, feigning a whisper that's still quite loud enough to hear. The young Pawn mumbles an acknowledgment and a thank you, fumbling out of the way with an armful of hair and eyes that all rotate to peer at Edgar over its acquirer's shoulder.
The Czar, too, is looking at him, somehow, without any eyes at all: only an inscrutable monocle, bright in the lamplight.
"My, my, that is commitment," the King piece rumbles in admiration, but does not elaborate--presumably he is referring to Edgar's fastidious application of bandages to his entire person, evidenced to a keen observer by the way the wrappings continue into collar and cuffs. "Step right up, Professor. Let's see what the cauldron has got for you, shall we?"
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